the warrington

So I was rereading Harry Potter, when I came across this and thought- what if instead of Cedric Diggory, Cassius Warrington had been chosen to compete in the Triwizard Tournament?

Imagine Dumbledore calling out the name of the Hogwarts champion and it isn’t a Gryffindor, or a Ravenclaw, or even a Hufflepuff, but it’s a Slytherin. A student from a House most people hate.

Imagine Cassius Warrington getting up, and three out of four Houses are booing at him and shouting things like “NO!” or, “We can’t have a Slytherin champion!” or demanding a retry. But he’s a Slytherin- he’s been dealing with this shit since he got sorted, so he keeps his head high and joins the other champions.

Imagine Harry trying to catch Warrington alone because he doesn’t really want to associate with Slytherins (plus Malfoy seems to be around the guy ALL THE TIME now that he’s the Hogwarts champion), but at the same time he’s also fair enough not to want him to walk into the first task unprepared.

Imagine Warrington walking over to Harry a few months later, and Ron and Hermione both jump into a protective stance, wands out, but instead of attacking Harry he just tells him to stick the egg underwater. (Because Slytherins don’t forget those who helped them out).

Imagine Warrington and Harry helping each other out in the labyrinth.

Imagine Harry being devastated when Peter kills Warrington- because Voldemort doesn’t care what house they’re form, a spare is a spare.

Imagine the uproar that causes among the Slytherins, because some of their parents really are Death Eaters and they know what really happened.

Imagine Slytherins fighting in the Battle of Hogwarts and shouting “This is for Cassius!”


Just A Bunch Of Odd Balls!

Various Teams Get Sexy In The Sheds In Their OddBalls!

Sexy As Hell, Baby!


Artsnight, 2016: The Year of King Lear

Theatre for a New Audience, 2014 - Michael Pennington as King Lear (gif 2)

Royal Shakespeare Company - Antony Sher as King Lear  (gif 1,3-5)

Talawa Theatre Company - Don Warrington as King Lear  (gif 6)

steve is such an important character though against toxic masculinity. he does not pressure nancy into sex, backs off when she says no the first time. he genuinely cares about nancy, to the point he seems nearly heartbroken about her “””cheating”””. he cuts ties with his friends when they go too far and at the end gives jonathan a joint present with nancy. he subverts every annoying douchebag trope and shows time and time again he really cares for nancy. now all we need is a ot3 and all will be well


(via Autumn at Bewsey Hall Lodge | Duane Jones | Flickr)


“When the Dark Lord invaded the castle with his army, it was initially believed that Horace Slughorn had fled in cowardice, but as it transpired, he had gone to Hogsmeade to round up reinforcements. He returned to the castle at the head of vast number of residents and shopkeepers from the town, several Slytherin students who also returned to defend the school.

There stood members of the Slytherin Quidditch team lead by former captain Marcus Flint, brooms and wands at the ready.

Marcus Flint

Terence Higgs

Lucian Boyle

Peregrine Derrick

Adrian Pucey

Miles Bletchey

Graham Montague

Cassisus Warrington

@flintwoodandco you know they fucked some death eaters up at the battle of hogwarts

December 13, 2012

Harry drove for two hours to take Taylor to the George and Dragon Hotel in Great Budworth, Cheshire.

Custom Cupcake Company owner Matt Blakely told the Warrington Guardian: The woman said it was for Harry Styles but I didn’t know who that was at first.

“We had got a lot of orders before Christmas but she said he desperately needed them so we said OK, and prepared 23 instead of 24.

It was only afterwards we looked on the internet and saw it was his girlfriend’s birthday today and she was 23.”


Happy Haylor Month

Day 13

Gilded Gold

Triwizard Tournament AU

Part 1.

It starts with a cup; a goblet, really. All heavy hewn wood and blue-white flames licking up the edges as it sits in the forefront of the Great Hall.

It starts with a tournament; words like danger, glory, fame flashing across the insides of Draco’s eyelids.

It starts with a challenge.

Draco always has liked those.


He’s in the Great Hall, when he sees her for the first time. Anticipation breathing down his neck as he glances from the heavy oak doors to the glistening, burning, waiting goblet and back. It’s not a secret that the delegates competing in the Triwizard Tournament are arriving today. What is a secret, however –

A slip of paper is crumpled in his pocket as he leans over to murmur something to Cassius Warrington. The words ‘Draco Malfoy’ written in sloping, innocuous script that wouldn’t have been so important, no, not if this didn’t feel like his only chance at winning.

“You’re sure it’ll work?” he asks. Watches as Cassius smiles and Cassius nods and people do underestimate Slytherins, sometimes.

“Oh, it’ll work,” he’s saying, when –

The doors to the Great Hall burst open.

A gaggle of students – of girls – all awash in blue silk and flowery perfume and practiced, painted smiles are flouncing through.

And Draco’s not quite sure why his eyes latch on one in particular, isn’t sure why his fingers are tightening and his mouth is going dry as he watches her toss her hair over her shoulder, allow her eyes to travel, stop, catch on his and smiles.

Things don’t feel the same anymore.


She corners him a week before the champions are selected.

He knows her name by now, of course. Has practiced saying it aloud; marveled at the way it tastes rolling off his tongue when he’s staring up at the thick curtains of bed at night.

She’s even lovelier, up close. All diamond eyes and a lurid mouth, more ghost than girl as she glows in the dim light seeping through the window, pulse stuttering in her wrists when she clasps his arm in the corridor, yanks him into a gossamer thick alcove and hisses, “I know what you’re doing.”

There’s a beat of silence. Tense, terse, taunt. Because Draco isn’t quite sure what she’s referring to, no, not when he’s been studying her out of the corner of his eye since she’s arrived and concocting insurmountably ridiculous plots in which he could land them in this exact scenario now: ducked behind a moth-bitten thirteenth century tapestry with heavy breaths, heavy hearts as she stares at him and waits.

“The age line,” she says, sharper this time. “I know what you’re planning to do with that Warrington boy, and I want in.”

Draco smirks. Pointedly ignores what feels like a cauldron bubbling, fizzing, overflowing in his stomach as she tightens her grip around his wrist.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

Her eyes narrow. Fingernails bite against his skin as she murmurs, “Don’t lie to me.” And Draco has a chance to catalogue the thick, thick, thick fibers of the moment. Analyze just what it means that she hasn’t let him go yet.

Because he’s a politician’s son, knows power plays and the long game and has always been a bit too good at reading people. Because he’s a snake to his very core and he recognizes this girl, in the same vague way he does his own reflection. All pointed ends and smooth edges, something to keep, something to bury, something to hide.

“Let’s say,” he muses, closing the space between them so he can see his breath cloud in the chilly stone-damp air. “Hypothetically, that I did know what you were talking about.” He can feel the tendons of her wrist go taunt. “There’s always a price to pay.”


Cassius Warrington slips across the age line with ease.

Smirks, as he drops three slips of paper into the goblet.

No one can ever really tell the future.


She meets Draco’s eyes across the Great Hall as Victor Krum’s name is spit from the mouth of the goblet in a rush of red flames and the crowd of Durmstrang students bangs their fists appreciatively on the tabletop.

He smirks at her. Scrutinizes the flush the suffuses her cheeks as she pointedly turns her head away to watch another bout of flames, another slip of parchment that Draco recognizes immediately – she’d blotted ink along the edge in her haste to write it, to slip it into his fingers with contact that brushed, sparked, stung like a live wire.

She’s smirking, giggling, a butterfly trapped in her throat as the Beauxbatons girls twitter with disapproval, jealousy, approval, maybe.

And Dumbledore’s face is turning dubious as he calls out her name, glances over his shoulder Madam Maxine before another name is coughed up, all smoke, all singe and Draco knows who this is, of course, would be surprised if it were anyone but –

Cassius is frowning, seething across the table. Mouth pulled tight, flat lining against the rough of his face.

The fissure that was already tugging at Dumbledore’s mouth deepens, splinters, quakes like a fault line as he calls out Draco’s name and the hall goes silent.

“There’s something going on here,” Granger says to Potter, fingers cupped around her words.

But then there’s another gust of flames. Another name; all cramped writing and spiked letters, something that everyone had seen coming but no one suspected.

“Harry Potter,” Dumbledore says, and this time –

This time Draco hadn’t seen it coming.


Shatter Proof

Pairing: Cassius Warrington x Luna Lovegood

Setting: Canon-divergent soul mate AU; alternatively, the Running With Scissors AU

Word Count: 1,633

[ one ]


The night before Cassius Warrington plans to propose to Daphne Greengrass, he gets his mark.

A mark.

Someone else’s mark, someone who certainly isn’t Daphne, because there’s a carnelian-red radish stamped on the top of his left foot and it doesn’t—it isn’t Daphne. He knows. He knows.

He doesn’t care.

He slips into the grey plaid jacket she’d bought him for his last birthday and he wraps hid dad’s old cashmere Slytherin scarf around his neck and he Apparates to the front step of the Bloomsbury townhouse she shares with her younger sister and he knocks.

Exhales shakily.

Watches his breath puff out like smoke, and fiddles with the small velvet ring box in his trouser pocket.

She opens the door.

And she’s lovely, as always, and she’s happy to see him, as always, and her eyes are green and her lips are pink and her smile is somehow both comfortably sly and perfectly infectious and—he already feels nothing.


He’d loved her, an hour ago.

Keep reading


hp meme: character aesthetics - Cassius Warrington
“’There’s a rumor going round, Warrington got up early and put his name in,’ Dean told Harry ‘That big bloke from Slytherin who looks like a sloth.’ Harry, who had played Quidditch against Warrington, shook his head in disgust. ‘We can’t have a Slytherin Champion!’”