Summary:After participating in the Battle of the Eight Potters (yes, you read that right), Talbott wakes up to a welcome surprise in the form of the love of his life. (Requested by @bluediva and @justducky0423 for welcome back celebration. Prompt 24. I know who you are. You’re the woman I’ve waited for my entire life. for Talbott Winger.)
Wordcount:1k
Warnings:fluff with angst, talk of death (and maybe a bit of glamorizing of death, though not intentionally), canon-typical talk of violence
A/N: First of these celebration prompts! Requests are still open. See the celebration post for details.
The last thing Talbott could recall seeing was the deep navy blue of the night’s sky, dusted with the tiniest hints of stars that shone through the faint London fog.
It hadn’t been an entirely unpleasant feeling. Dying was, inherently, more pleasant than it seemed. It was the moments right before that were filled with fear. No, falling off the edge, giving himself over to the peaceful void was like coming home. But those moments right before — the shriek of death eaters overhead, the blasts of green and red filling the space between their brooms, Ron’s white knuckle grip into his stomach — were more frightening than any he could imagine.
But not because he feared his own demise. He only feared for you. And given that you looked just like seven other individuals flying tonight, he couldn’t find you in the sea of moving bodies to confirm to himself that you were okay before he took a shot from Rodolphus Lestrange right in the chest.
So when white began to creep into the corners of his vision, Talbott was thoroughly confused. He had accepted the void— welcomed it, truly. It wasn’t that he wanted to go. Far from it, in fact. But after losing his parents, it almost seemed fitting that the end would feel like a warm hug rather than a cold abyss. Though such a thought was laced with its own kind of guilt. You were still on this earth, living as you should, and to be without you, even in the great beyond, was the emptiest feeling he could imagine.
But slowly the white spread, turning black to grey until the vision was so bright it almost hurt.
Perhaps there is a heaven, after all, Talbott thought.
And then he heard a voice calling to him, chanting his name in whispered tones. At first, he thought it might be you, his afterlife brain conjuring for him heavenly choirs of your voice to herald his arrival, but he was sadly disappointed. The voice is far too gruff, far too sharp, too weathered. It was cruel beyond measure for his heart to feel this warmth that he associated only with you. but his ears to be assaulted by a sound in such stark contrast.
Perhaps there is a hell, after all, Talbott thought.
But then the white receded again, but this time in its place came the blinking of his own lashes and the rich pine of a timbered ceiling. The soft orange glow of a fire cast everything in an otherworldly light, like the soft sepia of a photo of old. Comfort— comfort consumed him. And suddenly he understood that he had gone nowhere, or rather to no other realm. That warm hug was the lick of a fire against his cool skin and a knitted blanket across his chest. And that mock of a heavenly choir was the gravelly voice of Hagrid, who loomed over him with a bright smile.
“Thought we lost you there for a second, Talbott,” Hagrid chuckled. “Good thing ya had Ron there to fly the broom for ya. Had you been with someone less capable, well… I don’t even wanna think about it.”
But before Talbott could respond, the door to the Burrow burst open and Harry stood at the door, his mouth open in shock.
“Hey, there, my love.”
At once, the Harry before him quivered his lip and soon ran headlong into his arms.
It was a strange feeling at first. The form was all wrong against his own. The hair didn’t tickle his neck the way it should have. The smell was far too… plain. But the way you moved — the way that all wrong nosed nuzzled exactly right into his neck, the way those too-different hands gripped his shoulders just so, the way that far too masculine voice chanted just the right words in his ear — made that strange feeling disappear and be quickly replaced with one of love and longing.
“How did you know it was me?” you whispered to Talbott as tiny bits of your hair started to poke through. Talbott stroked your cheek that slowly morphed under his touch until he was staring into eyes he knew better than any other, ones he loved far more than he had thought possible.
“I know who you are. You’re the woman I’ve waited for my entire life.”
You spit out a laugh, your hand resting on his chest, which was still sore from the blast it received.
Seeing his pain, you tried to pull your hand away, but Talbott grabbed your wrist, holding you close. He pulls you towards him until his lips met yours in a soft, but necessary, kiss.
“I mean it, Y/N, truly,” Talbott whispered.
“How could that be true? I’m yours, Talbott. You aren’t waiting for me. I’m here,” you said, your voice a whisper, your eyes still trained on his chest. Though you couldn’t see the wound, Talbott knew you were trying to envision the damage.
“I have been waiting. Far too long, in fact.”
Talbott pulled your hand to his mouth and kissed the fingers with reverence.
“I’ve been waiting my whole life to make you my wife. And I can’t wait anymore,” he said, unsure how you’d take the words.
A soft smile crept across your lips. “Because we might get blasted out of the sky tomorrow?” you asked. And though you passed it off as a joke, Talbott knew what you were really asking.
“Reach into my pocket,” Talbott said. When you didn’t move, he flicked his eyes down to his pants, which somehow were still on his body despite the rest of him being bare, presumably to clean his injuries.
You followed his gaze with your fingers, finding a hard lump at the end of his pocket. When you pulled out the ring box, Talbott offered you a warm smile.
“Told you I’ve been waiting.”
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Summary:After participating in the Battle of the Eight Potters (yes, you read that right), Talbott wakes up to a welcome surprise in the form of the love of his life. (Requested by @bluediva and @justducky0423 for welcome back celebration. Prompt 24. I know who you are. You’re the woman I’ve waited for my entire life. for Talbott Winger.)
Wordcount:1k
Warnings:fluff with angst, talk of death (and maybe a bit of glamorizing of death, though not intentionally), canon-typical talk of violence
A/N: First of these celebration prompts! Requests are still open. See the celebration post for details.
The last thing Talbott could recall seeing was the deep navy blue of the night’s sky, dusted with the tiniest hints of stars that shone through the faint London fog.
It hadn’t been an entirely unpleasant feeling. Dying was, inherently, more pleasant than it seemed. It was the moments right before that were filled with fear. No, falling off the edge, giving himself over to the peaceful void was like coming home. But those moments right before — the shriek of death eaters overhead, the blasts of green and red filling the space between their brooms, Ron’s white knuckle grip into his stomach — were more frightening than any he could imagine.
But not because he feared his own demise. He only feared for you. And given that you looked just like seven other individuals flying tonight, he couldn’t find you in the sea of moving bodies to confirm to himself that you were okay before he took a shot from Rodolphus Lestrange right in the chest.
It took me a second longer than it should have to recognize what was happening in the beginning. And then I was wondering if this was going down the route of “going back in time” or “reincarnation”.
And then…
The scene where Talbott imagines what his afterlife would be like to where he wakes up was just…
I love it. Then we get Talbott recognizing which “Harry” was his and everything after… especially with the ending? Oh my goodness…
