“Do you have a favorite constalation, Percy?'I was still kind of wondering about the little green snakes he'd shoved into his jogging shorts, but i said. 'Uh, I like Hercules.''Why?''Well... because he had rotten luck. Even worse than mine. It makes me feel better."The jogger chuckled. 'Not because he was strong and famouse and all that?''No.”

“So you're really going to the dance?"I nodded as I sipped from the mug."Alone?""Not technically.There should be other people there too."He raised his eyebrows. "Did my sullen daughter just make a joke?" I smiled as he gave a chuckle. "You always used to make jokes when you were nervous," he said. His smile disappeared and he put a hand on my arm. "Are you nervous?"He knew me better than I thought. "A little.""Then why are you doing? I mean, won't most everyone there have dates?" He cleared his throat. "Because Tommy and I have a mean game of Uno planned."I hugged him. "Thanks,Dad. Wish me luck.”

“Ron and Hermione were still smirking and Harry felt his temper rise; he wasn’t even sure why he was feeling so angry.“Don’t sit there grinning like you know better than I do, I was there, wasn’t I?” he said heatedly. “I know what went on, all right? And I didn’t get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because — because help came at the right time, or because I guessed right — but I just blundered through it all, I didn’t have a clue what I was doing — STOP LAUGHING!”

“When he pulled away, he smiled kindly at me. I felt so good, I'll admit I teared up a little. I guess until that moment I hadn't allowed myself to realize just how terrified I had been the last few days."Dad-""Shhh," he said. "No hero is above fear, Percy. And you have risen above every hero. Not even Hercules-”

“In my head, Carlisle’s kind eyes did not judge me. I knew that he would forgive me for this horrible act that I would do. Because he loved me. Because he thought I was better than I was. And he would still love me, even as I now proved him wrong.”

“You like me,” he finally said. “You like me, like me.” He was trying not to smile.“No. I hate you,” I said, hoping that saying it would make it so.“And yet, you draw me.” Noah was still smug, completely undeterred by my declaration.This was torture; worse somehow than what just happened, even though it was only the two of us. Or because it was only the two of us.“Why?” he asked.“Why what?” What could I say? Noah, despite you being an asshole, or maybe because of it, I’d like to rip off your clothes and have your babies. Don’t tell.”