Evan: Yeah, Me And Barty Don't Use Pet Names.

Des choses à vivre en silence

Il y a quelques années je me suis fait battre, quelques coups de poing par un inconnu, au milieu d’une rue pas si déserte que ça. Je n’ai jamais su qu’il était ni pourquoi il a fait ça. Je me rappelle des coups, je me rappelle des gens qui marchaient rapidement autour de moi regardant ailleurs, je me rappelle du mal. Ca n’a duré que quelques minutes tout au plus, jusqu’à ce qu’un petit couple de petit vieux vienne à ma rescouse. L’homme a arrêté mon agresseur et lui a tenu une leçon de vie, pendant  que la femme est venue me voir. Je me souviens pas si elle m’a parlé, pris dans ses bras ou si elle est juste restée à côté de moi. Mon agresseur est parti et le couple m’a ramené chez moi. Ce soir-là j’ai pleuré dans les bras de mes parents, puis j’ai oublié. J’ai vécu comme si rien ne s’était passé pendant deux-trois ans.

Puis un jour les souvenirs de “La jeune fille de 14 ans″ sont revenus. Un peu comme une baffe, ou un nouveau coup de poing. Je n’arrive pas à me rappeler quand. Peut-être que c’était cette fois là où un de mes amis m’a mis un coup de poing dans le bras pour rigoler, ou quand j’ai vu cet homme mettre une claque à son fils, ou alors,... Je sais plus. C’est juste revenu et depuis ça me hante. Juste ce qu’il faut, pour me faire vivre dans la peur.

Je garde pour moi, j’accepte que mon nouvel ami me pousse un peu fortement, malgré la peur que j’ai, j’accepte ses tapes amicals. Je ferme les yeux quand je sens quelqu’un marcher derrière moi dans la rue, je ferme les yeux et j’espère que ça ne va pas recommencer. Je grince les dents quand je vois des gens me regarder en ville. Je continue de marcher. Puis quand ça arrive chez moi, quand ma mère lève la main, quand ma soeur me parle brusquement, quand mon père claque la porte un peu fort, quand un plat est posé brusquement sur la table, alors à ce moment je vais m’enfermer dans la pièce la plus proche. Je laisse couler les larmes que je retiens depuis le début de la journée.

Quand je me sens capable de ressortir et d’affronter le monde, alors je me relève et essuie les larmes qui ont coulées sur mes joues. Et même si je sais que ma famille me veut aucun mal, que mes amis ne me frapperont jamais, que je suis tombée sur un inconnu stupide, que tout le monde n’est pas comme lui. Je vis dans la peur jour après jour. Une peur que personne ne comprend vu que personne n’a vécu ça. Une peur dont je ne parle pas et fais semblant qu’elle n’existe pas.

La peur ne vient pas toujours après l’accident, la peur prend son temps pour s’établir

Me

I am that kind of person who have a big debat in my head about what to do and then totaly forget it Like it’s monday morning, I am already late to work but I have to take a shower before leaving the house

Me : So I have absolutely no time to wash my hair this morning, anyway it’s so cold outside and I washed my hair yesterday, I will just go in the shower and wash my body

Two scondes later I am in the shower with wet hair and shampoo in my hand and me: Oh shit

When Harry becomes the DADA professor, kids constantly ask him for an autograph, but he refuses, saying the only thing he’ll autograph is a detention slip. Eventually, though, he starts carrying around a stack of autographed pictures of Ginny, which he gives out when people ask for an autograph. It gets really popular, so he starts mixing it up with autographs from other people, mostly Ron and Hermione. But the students love it, so he adds more. Soon he’s giving out autographs from like fifty different people, including all the teachers at Hogwarts, and a bunch of other random people like Luna, Lee Jordan, Oliver Wood, etc. He even has some fairly rare ones from Krum and Fleur. It becomes a game in Hogwarts to collect all the autographs, like chocolate frog cards. Some of them are more limited edition than others, like signatures from all the ghosts (though Harry won’t reveal how he managed to get those). George starts to offer a discount at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes (and a prize autograph from Peeves, who will only sign Bertie Bott’s scratch-and-sniff cards) to anyone who can prove they’ve collected the whole set. Harry provides him with up-to-date lists of autographs to check against. Every Hogsmeade weekend there’s a line of Hogwarts students in WWW’s Hogsmeade branch trying to get the discount.

At some point a seventh year comes up to Harry and asks for his autograph, but not as the Savior of the Wizarding World, but because they now have the autograph of every other Hogwarts teacher and want Professor Potter’s to go with them. Harry–trying not to tear up–agrees, but only in exchange for the student’s signature. He begins offering this deal to all departing seventh years, his autograph in exchange for theirs. He tells them it’s in case they ever get famous, so he can add it as a limited edition autograph, but really he keeps them all in a big binder just for himself, to remember all his students. (A couple times, though, when a students does become famous, he will contact them and ask if they’d like to be added to the game. So far no one has said no.)

When Teddy starts at Hogwarts he begins a black market autograph trade because he has access to a lot of the people Harry gets autographs from. Harry’s other three children proudly continue the trade when they get to Hogwarts. They’re all secretly aided by Ginny.

Slytherin Headcanon that the first female quidditch player on the house team was Bellatrix … she absolutely wasn’t allowed to do this and in response the whole team learned how to brew polyjuice just so she could be on the team as one of the “boys” (and said boy would replace her in the stands).

I love when you draw them with scars,

And with white hair and wrinkles on their face.

I love when you draw them with tattoos and piercings,

With brown and dark skin,

And with sunburns and freckles.

And not skinny or too skinny,

Too short to reach something or looming over their friends.

I love when you draw them old or tired,

With tears in their eyes or when they are still laughing at a joke.

I love when you draw them with their shirts untucked or a hole in their pants,

With unpaired socks and clothes that do not fit them.

I love when you draw them with not "not perfect" makeup, with yellow teeth or hair everywhere,

I love when you draw them different than we saw them in a movie or than they are described in a book

Because they are alive,

Because they are yours (and ours for a moment).

So thank you

The fact that Snape is one of the youngest if not THE youngest professor is fucking hilarious.

ok but hear me out, quidditch games in the middle of the night

all students praying mcgonagall wont find them out

begging hermione to be the judge of the game

the students playing IN THEIR PJ’S

all houses playing together it’s a mess

draco complaining about everything but begrudgingly having the time of his life 

“malfoy honestly you are gonna slip off that broom in those silk pj’s”

slytherins and hufflepuffs vs gryffindors and ravenclaws

they do it almost every friday night

hagrid watches every single game and cheers for everyone equally

the house elves all know and prepare them a feast of junk food after every game

they have sleepovers at each other’s common rooms after the game because they are too exhausted to go to their own

“can we crash in the slytherin dorm today”

house unity AT ITS FINEST no one gives a fuck

they are all tired af but no one wants to go to sleep so SLEEPOVERS

everyone having extra mattresses under their beds for these occasions

the paintings helping them sneak out by warning them if there’s a teacher coming or not

THE TEACHERS NEVER FINDING OUT (actually they all know they just pretend they don’t)

'you never read anymore, you used to love reading' and i have 200 safari tabs open. it never stopped it just got weird

Remus: how did Reggie first came out to you?

Sirius: well there were always signs, but when he really did, he did it by giving me a bunch of blue cupcakes and a greeting card that said "it's a boy!"

Remus: That's cute

Sirius: It was NOT cute!

Sirius: I thought he was pregnant.

Host dad

My host dad told me : I don’t want gay near my children. I don’t want them to befriend with them.

Maybe the day I will leave this house I will tell him the true, and he will just cry because I am hella gay. And I am sleeping in his daughters’ room during three months.