xmenfirstkink | round 3 overflow post

You're viewing

xmenfirstkink
Create a Dreamwidth Account Learn More

Reload page in style: site light

starkmodistries.livejournal.com posting in

Round 3 Overflow Post

This post is for Round 3 fills only. We ask that when a round hits 8500 comments, fillers begin moving their fills to this post.

Format:
SUBJECT LINE -- Round #, short description of fic (ex: "Alex/Hank, lab partners")
--- Link to the prompt
--- Text of the prompt

--- Link to the fill
OR
--- Entire text of the fill

EXAMPLE:
Prompt: http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/6437.html?thread=1038472#t2038174

Charles/Erik -- Charles is a bakery owner whose most frequent customer is Erik.

Fill: http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/6437.html?thread=0139482#t4502942

Charles started off the morning the same way he always did...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

turtletotem.livejournal.com

Consciousness was a choppy sea of agitated voices, the tingle of magic and the smell of flowers. Erik fought to the surface briefly, driven by an urgent fear whose origin he couldn't remember.

Charles's fingers were laced with his, blue eyes calm and warm. "It's all right, Erik. Everything's all right. Go back to sleep, you need rest." His other hand smoothed the hair back from Erik's forehead.

Charles was all right. He could sleep.

When he woke for keeps, Erik knew he was in the hospital wing. He felt tired and sore, but the pain in his leg was gone. Charles was asleep beside him – someone had pushed the two beds together, and Charles was halfway onto Erik's, lips pressed loosely against their twined hands. They were both wearing loose white hospital pajamas. Past Charles, Erik could see a table piled with flower arrangements, cards, little stuffed animals – for Dolly, perhaps?

They fell from his attention quickly, in favor of Charles. Erik watched the tiny movements of his sleeping breaths, the occasional flutter of his eyelashes, and laid a hand very gently across his cheek, needing to feel the warmth of his skin.

Shaw was dead. Charles was alive. Erik felt as if nothing could ever bother him again.

"Awake at last, then, Professor Lehnsherr," Madam Pomfrey said, bustling over with a pitcher of blue liquid that smelled like honeysuckle and feet. "Sit up, now, and drink a tall glass of this. How do you feel?"

"Fine," Erik said, sitting up. "How's Charles?"

Charles had blinked awake at Madam Pomfrey's approach; he smiled at Erik now, gentle and tired, and pulled himself to a sitting position. Slowly, awkwardly.

Using only his arms.

Madam Pomfrey saw Erik see it, saw Charles see him see it.

"You drink this, Professor Lehnsherr, and I'll be back to check on you." She handed him a glass of blue liquid and scurried away.

Erik set the glass aside without a glance. "Charles."

"You and Dolly healed right up, not even a scar," Charles said brightly. "Dolly's been released already, shuffled off into the deepest bowels of the Potter Pack until her uncle can take her home. That potion is to help with the blood loss, you really should drink it right away."

"Charles."

"Yours was a straight through-and-through from a completely non-magical weapon, it was no problem at all."

"Charles."

The bright smile faltered. "Mine's a little more difficult, of course."

Erik pressed a hand to the side of Charles's face, brushing fingertips through his hair. Charles swallowed and leaned into it.

"What can they do?" With great effort, Erik kept his voice steady, calm.

"Very little. You know how it is with curses."

"Where does... how far can..."

"Nothing below the waist. Nothing at all. Like I've been cut in half." He was shaking, just a little, a subtle vibration under the skin. One that stopped abruptly, halfway down. Erik tightened the hand on Charles's face, pulling him in to wrap his arms around—

"All right, Mr. Potter, but only for a moment," came Madam Pomfrey's beleaguered voice, and a tide of people flowed into the room.

"Professor X, I brought some more flowers, these are from Victoire—"

"Are you feeling better, Professor?"

"Is the headmaster really dead?"

"Did you see the cards we made, Professor Lehnsherr?"

It took Erik a moment to realize he was being addressed; he blinked down into the face of one of his Slytherin first-years. "Cards?"

"Yeah! They're right here!"

Before Erik knew it he was being swarmed by Slytherins, pulling cards off the table of offerings or bearing them in hand, along with flowers and candies and—

A stuffed shark, pointy teeth bared in an expression of unholy glee, held out to him by Scorpius Malfoy.

The herd of them came to a ragged halt, watching his reaction.

Feeling completely flat-footed, Erik looked at the small ocean of hopeful, uncertain eyes, looked at the shark, looked over at Charles, surrounded by his own sea of chattering Ravenclaws. Charles, his cheerful mask firmly in place now, only cocked an eyebrow at him.

Erik forced a grin – all teeth – and accepted the shark.