I love love love the -punk part of solarpunk, the rebelliousness that fights against the fossil-fuel-funded oligarchy and plants guerrilla gardens between pavement stones and invents cold fusion in grubby basements and wears silicon jewelry and tags walls with moss graffiti and forces green into spaces that have been black and grey and sooty for too long
Like, art-nouveau utopia is great and all, but that’s the solarpunk of the elite. Give me the solarpunk everyone else makes for themselves and claws back from the hard concrete to give back to the earth
Cath shows you a method for creating textured stone flooring for you diorama, dollhouse, and room box need. From stone paths to stone kitchen tile, this technique utilizes egg cartons for a beginner-friendly DIY. Let us know if you try it!
Tags:????? help Langst, Electrocution, our boy is gonna get hurt.
“-ance? He- with me?”
It sounds distant, and somewhat familiar. It’s almost as if cotton is shoved in Lance’s ears. Where does he know that voice from? Is it someone close to him? He pushes forward, against the flowing current. Every step, closer to the answer. The current stops, and he stumbles forward onto his hands and knees. There’s a hand on his shoulder, shaking him.
One Hour Earlier
“How much further is it?” Lance almost groans. “We’ve been walking forever.”
“Lance, take this seriously. It’s not some road trip.” Pidge doesn’t even have to look back for Lance to feel the eye roll. Her full attention is on the holo-map in her hand.
Lance quiets down after that and continues on walking in tandem with the rest of the team. Foliage passes overhead, waving in the humidity of the planet they were trekking on. Bird like creatures skim the tree tops while emitting a shrieking call to their friends. Lance pushes leafy arms out of the way as he follows Hunk.
“We’re here,” Pidge calls out from the front of the line.
Sure enough, a temple like structure is visible up ahead. It’s a strain to decipher where jungle ends and the temple starts. The temple appears more than willing to co-exist with the surrounding life. Vines creep up the walls, around pillars, and over window sills. Budding flowers peek out of cracks in the stone walls and pavement. Even the local animals have moved into the temple, if only on the outer edges.
“What exactly are we looking for again?” Hunk asks. “‘Cause I kinda don’t want to touch the wrong thing and, oh, I don’t know. Die horribly.”
“It’s an artifact that the locals need for a ritual. It’s supposed to give blessings during rituals. And the relic is vital to the Jeing in an event like changing chiefs, moving the village to a new location, or forming alliances,” Pidge explains. “Which is why we need it if we want the alliance.”
She pulls up a new image on the holo-projector. Lance’s first thought is that it looks kind of like a toy airplane. The slender football shaped middle piece has two elongated, triangular wings jutting out and slanting back. At the rear, a wedge connects to the prolate spheroid and curves upwards. All over, swirls and dots intermingle with a script that looks similar to Arabic.
“We need to be careful with it. We don’t really know what it does. Don’t touch it with your skin. Use the bag or have your gloves on,” Shiro instructs. “Once you find and retrieve it, let the other group know and we’ll all regroup back here. Alright?”
Everyone nods and the team breaks off into the two groups. Shiro, Pidge, and Hunk cross to one entrance, while Lance and Keith cross to the entrance closer to them.
“Keep up, Mullet.”
Keith only grunts in reply as he takes off behind Lance through the archway. The torch perched on the front of Lance’s riffle casts shadows down the corridor, eerily illuminating cobwebs. Keith flips on his own torch and pans it behind him.
“I’m getting a very ‘Indiana Jones’ vibe from this place. D’ya think there’s any booby traps? Like the giant rolling rock?”
“Lance, pay attention,” Keith scolds checking the way they just came. “If there are any traps, I don’t want to walk into it.”
Lance stops so suddenly, Keith plows right into him, muttering a curse in surprise.
“That’s a dollar in the swear jar.”
Keith takes in a breath of air to utter a retort, but as he sees the cavern they’re standing in it vanishes. The cavern definitely gives off and Indiana Jones vibe. THe space is wide and tentacles of sunlight stream in from holes in the ceiling above. Vines criss cross the architecture along the walls and across the ceiling. Steps lead up in a pyramid shape to a pedestal, whereon the artifact is perched. The plane like object is irradiated by a pinpoint of light.
“I’ll call it in. Check the area, Lance.”
Lance nods and surveys the area, all while creeping closer up the steps to the object. There seems to be nothing around the artifact that could be harmful. Then, why did the locals never come and get it themselves? It wasn’t even that hard to find. Just a long, boring hike through a swamp of humidity. Maybe there was something the locals didn’t tell them. Lance shrugs as he brushes off the thoughts and reaches out for the artifact.
“Shiro. We found it.”
“Alright, bag it up and meet us back at the rendezvous.”
“Lance, is it clear?” Keith calls as he turns back towards the relic, only to see Lance’s gloved fingertips millimeters from the plane like object. As his fingertips make contact, a spark arches between the relic and Lance’s chest, almost as if in slow motion.
“Lance!” Keith’s voice is lost in the roar of the pulsing air that knocks Keith back through the opening of the tunnel. The wind doesn’t seem to stop as the wave of heat plows into Keith next, seeming to last for hours. When it finally does relent, dust is shaking down the tunnel opening. A layer of the powder seems to be coating the back of Keith’s throat as he pushes himself off the ground and staggers back into the cavern.
What happened? Rubble lays strewn across the floor and holes pepper the ceiling. The relic is gone from it’s spot on the top of the pyramid. Lance is gone, too.
finding a new passion, staring out the passenger's window of the car, tangled curls, seeing your reflection, folk songs
sarcasm, brain freeze, tongue teasers, paradoxical logic, riddles, winning at a game you've never played, watching scary movies under the blanket, waking up at 3am with no explanation
A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Kiss Me (3)
[A/N: Last chapter for today! If you go to my page you’ll see that I’ve left a little question asking what you’d like to see in the following chapters! (I don’t want to spoil anything but the chapter after this one will have kind of Jughead POV scene or scenes)
I’m really enjoying writing this one but obviously I want you guys to enjoy it too and I want to write the kind of stuff that you want to see! I hope you enjoy this one guys! Also I love it when you guys leave comments, it really makes my day (read that as: I need constant validation to ensure that I am happy).
Also see if you can find the Fall Out Boy lyrics in this chapter! (Hint: It’s not very subtle)]
——————————————————————————————————— Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Torture, Swearing, Abduction, Fire A/N: Prompt.Part 1.Part 2.Part 3.I can’t believe how long this thing bloody took me! Sorry it’s been so long since I last updated it, but here is part 4 for ‘Unbreakable’! ———————————————————————————————————
“Well, being there is a start.” Natasha said,
her usually harsh-sounding voice taking on a softer tone.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Bucky replied, head tilted up to
the night sky as him and Nat began to stroll back towards the tower.
“Good.” she smiled, green eyes glinting slightly as she
glanced up at him, “Y/N deserves someone who’ll fight for her.”
“Well, I’m gonna damn well try.” Bucky said, eyebrows
furrowing as a fire engine went speeding past, sirens blaring.
Mindlessly kicking at a stone on the pavement, Bucky let out
a shaky breath as he shoved his hands deep in his pockets. Even now, your look
of fear and betrayal was painted across his eyelids, flickering in his vision
every time he blinked. If it was the last thing he did, he would make sure you
never looked like that ever again.
“Hey Buck?” Natasha asked quietly, “Is that coming from the
tower?” Nudging Bucky to point out the pillar of smoke that was starting to
billow into the sky.
“Shit.” Bucky said, the pair immediately breaking into a
sprint as a couple more fire engines zoomed past.
About a million thoughts went racing through Bucky’s head as
him and Nat ran towards the spiral of black smoke. Bucky knew all about your pyrokinesis,
yet he couldn’t help but worry. If the tower really was on fire, and you
couldn’t control it, then something was seriously wrong. Feet pounding against
the pavement, Bucky couldn’t stop the way his heart felt like it was beating
out of his chest. As the two neared the tower, they spotted a huddled group of
people, being able to pick out a few of their teammates in the gathering.
“Steve!” Bucky yelled, running up to his blond friend, black
soot smudged across his cheeks and dusting his hair.
“Bucky, thank god!” Steve said, blue eyes filled with worry
as he clutched at Bucky’s shoulder, “We’ve been looking all over for you… it’s
Without another word, Bucky sprinted into the building,
ducking around anyone who tried to stand in his way. This is all my fault, he
couldn’t help but think, jaw clenched and eyes wild. He didn’t know what he was
going to do once he got to you, he just knew that he had to. As he weaved
through the many corridors, often crashing into walls in his haste, Bucky
didn’t even notice as the smoke became thicker around him. As he neared your
door, he began to feel the heat licking at his skin, the flames crackling
“Bucky!” Steve’s voice suddenly called out, the sound of his
pounding feet coming up behind him.
“Steve?” Bucky said, covering his mouth as he let out a
string of coughs, “What are you doing in here?”
“You think I’d let you come in here on your own, no chance.”
Steve replied, clapping Bucky on the shoulder, “Besides, I have a plan…”
As the fire burned on around you, smoke filling your lungs,
and flames licking against your bare skin, you couldn’t contain the sobs that
continued to break past your lips. You never wanted this, this ‘gift’ as Steve
kept referring to it. All it had ever done was cause you pain and suffering.
Your father was right to give you up, you put everybody around you in danger. Digging
your nails into the burning skin of your thighs, you barely registered the
distant sounds of voices, instead only focusing on the sounds of the fire
slowly destroying everything around you. So far it had burnt everything in your
room, and the rooms either side of you, blackening your walls and creating a
blockage in front of your door.
“Y/N?” Can you hear me?” Steve’s muffled shout could barely
be heard over the fire, the sound of his voice only causing you to burrow
further into yourself, “We’re going to get you out of here, okay?”
The sounds of debris shifting, and the fire spitting out
accompanied two murmured voices. Suddenly, the sound of your door groaning
filled the room, before it seemed to fall off its hinges, crashing to the
“Doll?” Bucky’s hoarse voice coughed, his flesh arm thrown
up to his face and his metal one laying limply at his side.
Grey eyes flickering around the room, they quickly locked
onto your cowering figure, gaze filling with both relief and fear. That look on
his face felt like a stab to the heart. It was such a familiar expression, the
look of fear as someone realised what you were truly capable of.
“Y/N…” he said, inching around the fallen debris to get to
you, “Doll, everything’s going to be okay, I’m gonna get you out of here.”
Pushing past a fallen beam, Bucky hissed as the smouldering
metal contacted with his bare flesh. Screwing his eyes shut, he carried on
towards you, barely flinching as a chunk of debris fell onto his metal
“Doll, I’m here.” Bucky murmured, fingers brushing against
yours as he crouched in front of you.
“Bucky…” you whispered, feeling the fire ebb at his touch.
“Come on.” Bucky said, carefully hosting you up with his
flesh arm alone, “I’m so sorry Doll.”
Walking back through the destruction, Bucky hunched over
your body as the building continued to crumble around the two of you.
“Buck, you got her?” Steve asked, shield propping up the
largest piece of debris that had previously been blocking the door.
“Yeah. Yeah, I got her.” Bucky said, gripping you close to
his body as the three of you navigated your way out of the burning building.
at the side of the massive, mirrored room watching your sister and her partner
move gracefully across the floor. When the music stops you cheer loudly,
clapping so hard that your palms begin to sting.
you’re embarrassing me,” Una says, rolling her eyes theatrically as she walks
sorry,” you say with a loud sniff, holding out a towel for her. “My baby just
grew up so fast.”
and takes the towel from you, dabbing her sweat away tiredly. “You guys look
amazing,” you say earnestly. “You make a good pair.”
partner, Jimin, is on the other side of the room and she calls him over.
a couple of months and he still seems so shy,” you murmur as he comes nearer.
okay,” Una responds. “I think it’s just when you’re around that he gets a bit
weird. He must sense the way you undress him with your eyes.”
You aim a
kick at Una but she slips out of reach with a light laugh.
WE DO knot ALWAYS LOVE YOU Part 13 Full translation.
6th sector - Kuchiki clan mansion.
On the morning of the day they were to head to the Kinin Noble Assembly, Renji passed through the Kuchiki clan’s huge main gate with a nervous expression. As he advanced on the stone pavement that had been swept clean, he was greeted by an old man with white hair wearing a pair of round spectacles - Seike Nobutsune, an attendant attached to Byakuya.
“Abarai sama, we have been expecting you”
Calmly bowing, he opened the door of the (genkan) entryway, “please come inside”
“Nah, I’ll meet her in front of the entrance……”
“I have been informed to tell you that you are to join Byakuya sama for breakfast”
“With the captain!? U-understood”
Renji became increasingly nervous, moving awkwardly, he followed behind Seike.
chanyeol x reader. floofy floof. 9k words. basically, dorky and bad luck!chanyeol who’s too awkward to get a girl.
As if his bad luck isn’t enough to mess up his life, no, Park Chanyeol just had to fall for a girl he has no idea how to talk to.
A painful whack to his nose and a little bit of blood smeared on his face doesn’t seem to be enough of a force of bad luck to crack past the idiotic–yet ever inspiriting—’happy virus’ that is one, Park Chanyeol. For he is, in fact, trapped in his own little bubble of happiness, paying no mind to the blood on his hands, or the kink at his neck from leaning forward for too long to stop the humiliatingly obtained nosebleed. It’s rather unsettling and question inducing to those who pass by him, that startlingly happy expression of his, despite how he shouldn’t look that bright considering what happened to him.
His smile for this particular day has nothing to do with the nickname the campus’ residents has nicknamed him with, and more so that it has something to do with his streak of bad luck finally bringing him something good for once. Good being: yes, a cute girl who he’s for once quite positive he has a chance with is whisked into his life, a turning point that could mean he has the upper hand to his dorm mate Byun Baekhyun.
But more importantly: oh my gosh I just got smacked in the face and got a nosebleed from a really cute girl.
To say the least, it’s quite an interesting first meeting.
A/N: AU - this takes place in an alternate universe…
Imagine: Aside from his sister Lisa and partner Mick, you were the only other person Leonard cared for. He promised he would come back for you, after his trip to the future with Team Legend; but, it’s been years and you were starting to lose hope…
Everything was cold.
Pulling the thick wool-padded coat closer to yourself, you closed your eyes and inhaled the scent of powdered snow and cigarette smoke. It was nostalgic, a mixture of comfort and intoxication that reminded you of your boyfriend, Leonard Snart.
Two years ago, Leonard had decidedly gone off on an adventure with his best friend, Mick Rory, to save the world from a psychotic, time-travelling tyrant and possible armageddon. Quite easily, it was the most dangerous gig that he’s ever been offered.
And it worried you.
Though he knew the risk associated with his mission - including the unnaturally high probability of death - Leonard still agreed. He didn’t really tell you why; nor, did he comment much on the matter, aside from, “I’ll be back…”
And so, without much of a choice, you had to stay faithful and pray that your love would return safe to your arms.
Leaning back on the wooden bench - the special one that Leonard had stolen from Central City Park for you - you looked around the small greenhouse and admired its scenery.
God, I miss Leonard, you thought, the sense of yearning deeply embedded in your heart. And I bet he misses this place too…
This greenhouse was your secret spot, your sanctuary.
It was a safe place where you and Leonard went on dates, watched movies and cuddled on the ground while he was on the run from the law.
Although small, the greenhouse sheltered a number of flower beds. Most of the garden was composed of Sweet Alyssums; but, there were a select few of Winter Pinks and Honeyworts - all of which flourished in cold temperatures.
Behind you, the door creaked open.
The sound of shoes clopping against the stone pavement resounded in the small planthouse and stopped behind you. Although they didn’t speak a word to you, you had no doubt as to whose identity it was.
You smiled gently.
“Hey, Lisa,” you greeted your boyfriend’s younger sister, refusing to meet her gaze. “I know you hate it when I say this, but you really should knock before coming in…”
“Well, you really should lock the door,” they drawled. “Don’t you know it’s not safe to be out here alone?”
Your heart stopped.
You knew that deep, gruff voice anywhere. Ten years could’ve passed and you still could’ve recognized it amongst others.
Eyes wide, you immediately spun around.
There, standing inches away from you, was Leonard. With his short, cropped hair, steely gaze and five o’clock shadow, he looked as if he hadn’t aged a day.
Quite shakily, you stood up from your seat.
“Leonard…” you whispered.
A bittersweet smile tugged on his lips.
“__________,” he nodded, making his way around the bench in a lackadaisical manner. “Long time no see…”
A cross of happiness and anxiety stirred in your stomach, and you couldn’t help but feel sick.
For many nights, you have thought about this moment - what you would say, what you would do to Leonard - once he had returned home from his mission; yet, with your mouth opening and closing like a muddle-minded fish, you found it difficult to form a coherent sentence or thought.
With shaking fingers, you slowly extended your hands to him and grasped the sleeve of his shirt. Multiple times, you released and tightened your grip - testing to see that he was actually there.
That he wasn’t a simple illusion that could be blown away by the wind or erased in a blink of an eye.
“Leonard…” you repeated once more, completely breathless. “You’re finally back…”
“Of course, I’m back,” he drawled in his naturally sarcastic, it’s-so-obvious tone. “I did make you a promise…”
He took a step forward and snaked a confident, secure arm around your waist, pulling you close. Standing several inches above, he forced you to look up at him
“…And if you remember correctly,” he dipped down and rested his face on the side of your neck, letting the short whiskers of his beard graze against you. “…I keep my promises…”
You breathed. “I know…”
With those final words, Leonard forcibly slipped his tongue inside your mouth, barely giving you a moment to register his actions. He was needy and demanding, exploring every nook and cranny that your mouth had to offer, claiming you as his own.
And though he knew there was little he could do about the time lost in the past two years, Leonard would make sure he would create new memories and celebrate the new future he had secured for you both.
Plot: You and Loki
have been together for years. Despite the things he has done, you have stuck
with him. This time, it was his turn to stick with you. You were imprisoned in
Asgard for a crime you didn’t commit after he “dies” and Loki ends up storming
the place to release you.
He sat on his knees on the floor in front of the great hall, her body cradled in his arms, head against his chest. A bottle was held in the hand he was not using to support her breaking form.
“Drink it,” he said, pulling the cork out with his teeth, and spitting it out onto the floor beside him.
He held the small vial up to her chapped lips, and even with her foggy eyesight she could see the pleading in his eyes. Her eyes narrowed back down on the bottle in front of her, taking in a gentle whiff of the liquid. It smelled far too sweet for a normal potion, and it had a metallic shine to its dark shade of gray.
“It’s…it’s…,” she mumbled, furrowing her brows upon the black haired man.
“Yes, I know, but you must. Please, drink it,” he said, and it was then that she noticed the single tear starting it’s decent down his cheek, threatening to fall to the cold stone floor of the pavement.
“Severus, you know… I can’t drink it… not… not unicorn blood.” She was, at this point, only able to spit out words between gasps of air, and as they looked into each other’s eyes, Severus Snape knew it would be the last time he ever looked into her enchanting (e/c) eyes.
“Severus I… I love…”
She did not finish her sentence, and the potions professor did not get his chance to give his response before her eyes became cloudy and dull. Upon witnessing her life leave her, Severus found himself no longer caring about his appearance, and let the silent tears fall freely.
“Please…please drink it,” he cried, dropping the bottle and letting it shatter against the ground. He clutched her breathless body close to him, and tucked her head into the crook of his neck.
“Please, not after everything, after 11 years of… oh god not you too… not you…”
He continued to cry, and for once, he did not care about the gathering group of people. He didn’t care about the students wondering what had gotten their potions master all riled up, he didn’t care about his fellow teachers that were contemplating their coworker’s sudden display of affection, and he certainly did not care about nor appreciate Dumbledore’s suddenly sympathetic hand that found a home on his shoulder.
Laying her down on the floor, he planted a gentle, but lingering kiss on her forehead. Before sitting back up and composing himself into his usual stoic self, he allowed himself one brief, intimate moment, and gently held her cold cheek in his hand.
Sliding the ring that matched his own off her finger and into his palm, he pressed his forehead against hers, and mumbled, “I love you too.”
Could you write a fic where it's Snape who meets when the Dursleys are staying in Cokeworth?
Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel
on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley and Harry shared a room with twin beds
and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored but Harry stayed awake, sitting on the
windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars and wondering…
Like shootin’ fish in
a barrel, son!
His father’s words rang in his head as he strolled from the
pub. He hadn’t intended to fleece the
group. Not like when he was younger, and
was cajoled by his desperate father.
This time, mired in guilt, he threw the last few hands, and pretended
his winning streak was over.
The men commiserated his loss with good humour and camaraderie,
but Severus didn’t need to use Legilimency to read their relief. There had been at least a fortnight’s wage on
the table, and he wasn’t entirely convinced that any of the men were still
working. Gambling was no laughing matter
in a backwater pub in Cokeworth.
And him, a well-paid teacher. He could afford to lose ten times over. He should’ve known better.
But old habits die hard, and he could almost hear his father’s
greed hollering in his ear. He never
threw a hand back then, not when losing a hand could mean the household
starving for the rest of the week. He still
couldn’t eat stew as an adult, no matter how upmarket the offering was. Gourmet stew, indeed. He could almost feel the oily, watery broth that
had coated his fingers as he scooped a bowl from the cauldron; no chunks of
meat to be found, and merely vegetable peel for flavour.
No. He never threw a
hand back then.
It was only the time his father had seen any worth in
magic. Comin’ down for a pint, eh, son?
I’ll stand yer one. And then
he’d lower his voice to a whisper so Eileen wouldn’t hear. And
bring that witchy mind readin’ brain of yers with yer. Don’t think yer just goin’ to sit quiet in
the corner with a bleedin’ book.
He kicked angrily at a stone on the pavement. “Why d’yer do this to yerself, Sev lad?” he
muttered. His accent was stronger in
these streets. He shouldn’t have had that
last pint. He always got maudlin after
one too many. He always got maudlin in
He turned a corner, and followed the main street out of
town. Spinner’s End was in the other
direction, far from the train station, far from civilisation – but Severus
always walked to the outskirts, and then Apparated to his house. He preferred to arrive directly in his
bedroom when he’d had a few pints; he could collapse straight into bed, and it
saved exchanging trivialities with the neighbours. It took all of his effort to remain polite
during the day – with a few Muggle pints in his system, Severus wasn’t quite
sure of what he might say.
He glanced up. The
stars weren’t visible – too much light pollution. Too much pollution full stop.
And then he saw him.
Four storeys up, his face pressed against the glass of a dirty window.
James fucking Potter.
Severus stopped, and turned.
His spin was rather less impressive without his voluminous teaching
robes, but despite his alcohol intake, the movement was smooth. He took several steps back and peered at the
window, where a small boy with glasses, and messy black hair was peering right
back at him.
He wasn’t going mad.
It wasn’t James Potter.
Not with that distinctive scar.
Severus’ heart thudded in his chest. He stared at the boy for a long moment, and
eventually, timidly, the boy raised his hand in the slightest of waves.
After a few seconds, Severus nodded, and continued on his
Harry silently watched as the thin man with long, straight
hair hurried down the street. He glanced
back over at Dudley, who was still snoring loudly, and sighed.
“I thought he lived in Surrey,” Severus shouted, banging the
door as he strode in, incongruously dressed in his Muggle attire.
“All right, Severus,” Minerva said, sharply. “I’ve heard quite enough.” She opened the log of which letters had been
sent to which student, and her jaw dropped as she flicked to Harry Potter’s record.
Most children had a single entry next to their name: Draco
Malfoy – letter sent by OWL, RSVP received.
Harry James Potter didn’t have just one entry. He had thirty nine pages.
Severus stood behind Minerva, and peered at the pages with
her. “Don’t you check these?”
“At the weekend. It
gives families chance to send confirmation,” she said, defensively. “There’s usually no need to chase anyone up. These are all pureblood and halfblood
families, Severus, remember?”
“Halfblood he might be,” Severus harrumphed, “but he lives
“Muggles who know fully well what he is,” Minerva
corrected. “Dumbledore did suggest he’d
send Hagrid to retrieve him if there was any trouble,” she added, but Severus
wasn’t really listening.
“The address keeps changing,” he said, pointing at the
page. “What does this mean? Cupboard under the stairs? The smallest bedroom?”
Minerva gave him a horrified look. “The addresses are automatic.”
“Hundreds of these,” Severus said, flipping the pages. “And now, look! Tomorrow’s entry – Railview Hotel,
Cokeworth! That’s where I saw him.”
“Perhaps they went on holiday?”
Severus snorted. “Nobody goes to
Cokeworth on holiday.”
“You were there. This
is your holiday.”
Severus gave her a scathing look. “I had the misfortune of being born there.” He tensed.
“They’re running from it. They
think they can outrun the owls.”
Minerva polished her glasses on her sleeve. “You don’t seriously think those awful
Muggles would keep Harry from attending Hogwarts?”
When she put her glasses back on, he’d gone.
They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast
for breakfast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel
came over to their table.
“’Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter? Only I got
about an ’undred of these at the front desk.”
She held up a letter so they could read the green ink
Mr. H. Potter Room 17 Railview Hotel Cokeworth
Harry made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked
his hand out of the way. The woman stared.
“I’ll take them,” said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and
following her from the dining room.
Vernon’s heavy footsteps stomped down the hallway, and
Severus slipped in through the door. He’d
sat in Vernon’s place before anyone even realised he’d entered the room.
“Mornin’,” he said, cheerfully, and picked up Vernon’s
half-finished cup of tea.
Petunia was so horrified, she couldn’t speak. Her mouth kept forming the same strange ‘o’
shape. Dudley clouted her on the back,
assuming she was choking on a cornflake.
Harry’s eyes widened.
“You’re the man I saw last night,” he said.
“I am,” he said, leaning his head down to Harry. “And I have a very special letter for you.”
“Oh!” Petunia finally spoke, and Severus straightened up.
“Where’s my letter?” demanded Dudley.
“You don’t want one of those horrid letters,” Petunia
snapped. “And neither does he, Snape!”
Harry didn’t think it was possible to be more shocked. “You know this man, Aunt Petunia?”
“Off to your room, Harry,” Severus said sternly, passing him
“You know my name!”
“-and keep that letter safe.”
Harry gave a sharp nod, and fled to his hotel room. Dudley moved to go with him, but Severus’
slender hand gripped his upper arm. He dropped
his Cokeworth accent, and slipped back into his most impressive schoolmaster
tone. “And where do you think you’re going?”
Dudley swallowed hard.
Ordinarily, he’d scream and shout, and stamp his feet – but the man’s
black eyes were unnerving. He slid back
onto his seat.
“Not my son, Snape,” Petunia whispered, horrified. “You can take the other one, but please, not
“Nobody wants your Duddy,” Severus sneered.
“Fine,” she snapped. “You’ve-”
“Obliviate. Stupefy. Muffliato.”
Petunia’s scream was high pitched, and she lunged for the
thin man. “What have you done to him? My Duddikins!
Duddy!” She looked around helplessly,
amazed that nobody else had moved an inch.
“What have you done?”
“No-one can hear you,” Severus said, in an almost bored
tone. “I merely wiped the boy’s memory
of events. He will wake shortly, and he
won’t have any knowledge of this meeting.”
Petunia calmed, and sniffed.
“I think it best that both you and Harry remember what
happened here.” He flicked his wand,
lifting the Muffliato spell. “Send
Dudley up to pack in five minutes. It’ll
give you time to decide what to tell that oaf of a husband of yours.”
Severus rapped on the door.
The door slid open, and Harry beamed at him. “Is this true? Is this all true? I’m a wizard?
Are you a wizard?”
Severus nodded, and ushered the boy through the door.
“Do you work at the school?” Harry asked, excitedly. “Can we go now?”
“We cannot go now,” Severus intoned, “for Hogwarts has
broken up for the summer. But yes, I
work at the school.”
“What do you do?”
“I teach Potions.” At
Harry’s puzzled look, he smiled. “It’s
like Chemistry. Only magical.”
“Are there forms?”
“I went to the open day at Stonewall High,” Harry explained. “And they put you in a form. Mine was-”
“We call them houses,” Severus interrupted.
“Yes, that’s it!”
Harry looked cheered, and then turned back to the letter. “It doesn’t say which house I am going to be
“Nobody knows until you turn up.”
“Oh.” Harry thought
for a moment. “What’s your house?”
Severus smiled. “I
was put into Slytherin.” He smiled more
broadly again. “I am very proud to say
that I am the Head of Slytherin.”
“Slytherin? That’s a
Severus gave a tight smile.
“Isn’t it just?” He patted the
small boy on the shoulder. “Enough now,
Harry. You need to pack your things before
your cousin comes upstairs.”
“It won’t be long until you’re at Hogwarts,” he said. “For now, just keep yourself out of trouble.”
“Sir? Do you think I
could be in Slytherin?”
Severus paused for a long moment, and then shut the
door. He pulled out his wand and spun on
his heel. “Obliviate! Stupefy!”
He picked the stunned boy up, shocked at how light the limp
child was. He gently rested him on the
bed and sighed. “Your mother was in
Maya Hart comes barrelling into John & Abigail’s Coffee Shop, just as the rain begins to thunder down. She stops in the shop front, and turns to stare at the storm that has so suddenly appeared, shocked that she’s just escaped it.
She joins the line, and takes her phone out of her pocket to check the time — 10:30AM. She’s supposed to be at the school by 11AM for the Saturday painting class she runs; she’s cutting it fine, but as long as the coffee doesn’t take too long and she doesn’t drown in the completely unforecasted torrential downpour, she should be fine.
“Just a large latte, please,” she tells the girl behind the counter once it’s her turn.
“Sure thing, name?”
“That’ll be three dollars, thank you,”
Maya hands over the money, and stands to the side, bumping into the guy who’d been in front of her in the queue.
“S— Sorry,” she says hurriedly, doing a double take as she looks at him properly, because, well, he’s rather attractive, with muscular arms and tanned skin and light brown hair that looks like it’s been bleached from sun.
She turns away, as he catches her staring, and stands next to him, her cheeks turning slightly pink. She can see him smirking out of the corner of her eye, and if she weren’t so embarrassed for quite obviously checking him out, she’d say something.
Brilliant Maya, she thinks to herself, just what you needed to do, boost a man’s — presumably already large — ego.
She shifts from foot to foot next to him, wondering if it’s just her, or did it suddenly get hot in here? A glance at the foggy windows confirms, that is in fact, the shop.
“Lucas, Maya,” calls out the barista, placing two coffees on the counter.
Maya snatches up the closest one to her, and walks swiftly to the door, mentally preparing herself to walk three blocks through the bucketing rain.
“Maya?” calls out a voice hesitantly. “Maya!” it calls out more urgently.
Maya turns around to see the guy from before, holding out a coffee.
“What?” she asks, though it comes out ruder than she means. She’s just in a rush and doesn’t need this right now. The class starts at eleven, but really she should be there now to set up.
“Um, you took my coffee,” he says, hesitant again, and slightly scared, as if worried she’s going to snap at him again.
Painted antique kimono. Mid to late Meiji period (1880-1912),
Japan. A kinsha crepe silk kimono
featuring fans on a subtle dark background of pavement stones and clouds. Hand-painted
and gold foil, with each fan being unique. The Kimono Gallery