#// set post second wizarding war

[kinzis-writing]

Three Years | George Weasley

Kinzi's 25 days of Christmas: Blogmas Day 2.

Summary: In which Y/N and George have been together for three years, and it takes a mistake for him to take the next step of their relationship.

Pairing: George Weasley x Fem! Reader

Warning(s): mentions of wizard war, mentions of death (not major character and not specified),

This could have ended way better, also the fact that this imagine is shorter than I like as well. I am doing my best at making my Blogmas posts as long as possible, but sometimes it takes me hours to plan the plot of these short stories out. I am a perfectionist, so that is why I never re-read and edit any mistakes because I am afraid of wanting to go back and change the whole story. *Fred did not die in the war*

Three years, it has been three years since George had grown a pair and asked Y/N to be his girlfriend. Since then, there had been many events happen in the course of their relationship. They had moved past the awkwardness of the beginning of the relationship, they had gone through their firsts that every relationship goes through, and everything in between.

Their relationship had survived the second wizard war but had challenges. Seeing as Fred had to be taken care of because of an accident and then George getting hurt before then. It was a hectic and stressful time for the couple, but now everything was back to normal. Well, normal as everything could be after losing some of the nicest people.

Christmas was tomorrow and Fred and George had many customers in and out of the joke shop. Whether it was for Christmas gifts or something before going home for a Christmas prank. They had many customers a day and George had found it hard to be able to see Y/N during the holiday season. The joke shop was closing early and they would stay closed until after Christmas because they all knew the wrath of Molly if they did not show up on time or if they left early.

On Christmas day, Molly was having dinner at the newly built burrow and told everyone that dinner was at 5 o'clock sharp. That morning, George had gotten up to wrap the present for Y/N that he had spent a decent amount of money only to find it missing from the place that he had put it.

"Hey, Fred." George called knocking on his bedroom door and walking in, "have you seen-" He stopped when he noticed Fred's girlfriend wearing the necklace and earring set that he bought specifically for Y/N. The reason he had picked them out was because he had seen her looking at them and she refused to buy them because of the price they costed. “Found them.” He mumbled to himself, his eyes not leaving the necklace.

He was sure that there had to be some sort of mix up. His twin would not steal his girlfriend’s gift on purpose. Instead of getting angry, George did what he believed was right, found Fred and asked him what he thought he was doing.

“I’m sorry,” Fred mumbled when he noticed the distressed look on George’s face. “I grabbed the wrong gift and before I could correct it she was so happy.” He trailed off making George groan. “You could give Y/N the gift I bought for Angela.” He suggested.

George thought about it for a moment, they had hidden their gifts in the same place. Meaning it was an easy mix up and he knew that Fred was telling the truth about grabbing the wrong box. Fred had planned on getting Angela a promise ring, and that gift would work if George hadn’t already given Y/N one of those almost a year ago.

“I’ll come up with something.” George mumbled before leaving his twin to himself. He had less than four hours to come up with the perfect gift for his girlfriend and he was determined to find it.

Four hours had flown by and by the time George and Fred joined everyone at the burrow, Y/N was already there. It wasn’t a shock to the twin, seeing as she was early to everything.

“You’re lucky you aren’t a minute later.” Y/N spoke as she walked up and greeted George from where she had been helping Molly. She had gotten there early knowing that it would be hectic if she didn't. "Molly has be waiting for you guys to arrive."

George gave her a quick kiss before going and putting their gifts under the tree. He wasn't sure how Y/N would like his gift, but he had come up with something... sentimental. Angelina had gone into the kitchen to see what the girls were up to, while Fred and George joined their brothers and Harry by the fire.

"I doubt that Ron even got me something." Hermione stated to Y/N who was setting the Table for Molly. "He's still so awkward about some things."

Y/N let out a small laugh, "I think that's just Ron." Y/N was a year between each group. Fred and George were a year older than her, and she was a year older than the golden trio, while being two years older than Ginny. "Hi, Angie." She greeted with a smile her eyes flickering to the earrings and necklace the girl was wearing. "I love your jewelry set! I wanted to buy the same one, but I didn't want to pay that price."

Angiela gave the younger girl a small smile, "Thank you, Fred got it for me." she replied before going over to greet Molly.

Dinner had come and gone within an hour and Molly had the kitchen cleaning itself. The family gathered around the fireplace as they got ready to open presents. Y/N was sitting on the floor, between George's legs as he sat on the couch. She was chatting with Hermione as they were talking about the after-holiday plans and if anything had to change.

"I think I am going to move." Y/N told Hermione as the girl played with the necklace she always wore. "The place I live at is getting worse and the landlord won't fix it."

Pretty soon the presents were being handed out by the Weasley's and everyone gathered knowing the Christmas tradition at the Weasley's house. Y/N had gotten George the thing he had been wanting for a while and he was beyond excited to receive the gift. It was unexpected and it made him nervous about her opening her gift.

"Can you go upstairs?" George asked Y/N as he noticed Molly hand her the gift that he had gotten her. "I would prefer you not open it in front of everyone." he mumbled quietly as the couple stood up and snuck off.

The pair in the room that they assumed was Ginny's for when she came back home just due to the looks of the room and so on. "There was a mix up of gifts this morning," George started as Y/N went to open her gift. "Fred gave Angela yours and-" He stopped talking when he noticed Y/N's reaction to what was in the box.

Wide eyes stared down at the little jewelry box, you would assume it would hold something that you could wear. Yet, it was nothing close to that. The key laid flatly in the velvet box, and y/n did not know what to think. "What Are-What are you asking?" she asked scared to assume.

Maybe this was a sign that she could come and go as she pleases instead of knocking, or maybe it was exactly what she thought it was. "Will you move in with us, well me?" He asked carefully. "I know it's not expensive and like I said, Fred gave Angela yours by mistake and-"

His sentence was interrupted by Y/N stepping forward and wrapping her arms around the boy she had loved for four years, even though they had only been together for three. "It's perfect." She assured to ease his nerves at the fact that his gift was something he already had, or just the price of making a copy of the key. "You didn't have to get me anything."

George shrugged, "I figured it was time to take the next step, it just took a push from Fred." he spoke softly to the girl he knew he was so lucky to have.

"Well, you just saved me the stress of apartment hunting." She replied back as she grabbed the key out of the box and handed him the box back, knowing that it probably belonged to Fred's other gift. "I love you so much, you know that right?"

"Of course, love." George nodded with a smile on his face. "I love you as well." With that Y/N leaned forward and caught the Weasley's lips between hers. They kissed for a moment before pulling away, George with a cheeky grin, "I could have proposed instead."

Y/N's smile grew at the thought of eventually marrying George and becoming a Weasley herself. "That sounds like a plan for next year." She winked before kissing him one more time and leaving the room, him trailing behind her.

"Are you saying you'd rather live with me, instead of marrying me right now!?" He asked not knowing how to take the information if she were to confirm.

"I have to live with you first to see if we're compatible." She told him with a shrug, but she was joking. Regardless of what happened she knew that she would love him.

"What does that mean?"

I hated the way I ended this, but Blogmas day 2 is complete! I have been working on Blogmas, requests, and my Mattheo series so I have been busy. This is on top of having to study for my finals so.

[thusspoketrish]

Hiya, I'm Trish! Below you'll find a list of my completed Drarry fics + a gist of the story + a handful of tags. All of my stories are postwar, EWE, and rated E or M. I will update this list as I complete more stories! Wooo!!!

MOST RECENT FIC:

Netflix and Chills | E | 20K Halloween might be over, but the tricks, treats, and heat between the sheets are just beginning for our favorite dynamic duo! Humor. Post-Second Wizarding War. EWE. Drarry in the Muggle World. Established Relationship. Snarky Draco Malfoy. Muggle Technology. Slice of Life. Humor. Romance. Domestic Fluff. Pop Culture References. Shenanigans. Halloween Night. Netflix and Chill. Banter. Mystery. Idiots in Love. Light Dom/Sub Elements. Dirty Talk. Blue Ball Hell.

Summary: When Draco innocently asks what "Netflix and Chill" means, Harry simply can't pass up the opportunity to impart some knowledge while demonstrating a masterclass in the art of seduction. Now, if only those plans weren't constantly interrupted by trick-or-treaters—some of them far more trick than treat.

The Art of Getting By | E | 149K Recovery fic set in a psychiatric hospital. Mental health Issues. Trauma/Traumatic Experiences. Heavy Angst. Harry and Draco admitted to a psychiatric hospital. Therapy. Fastburn. Co-dependency. Falling in love. Draco's + Harry's POV. Please read warnings. Dead Dove.

This Year's Love| E | 84K. A Drarry slowburn inspired by When Harry Met Sally! Humor. Light Angst. Draco in the Muggle world. Lovable Disaster!Harry. Enemies to Best Friends. Modern Dating. Layabout!Harry. Medical Student!Draco. Draco Dates Zaddies. Harry Is Living His Best Heaux Life. Sex (or no sex!) Positivity. Idiots In Love. So Much Pining. Harry's POV.

Everything That Happens Is From Now On | E | 42K. A sensitive story that explores the aftermath and recovery from a stranger SA. Established relationship. Secrets. Supportive/Loving Partner. RTS. Living Together. Body Positivity. Enthusiastic Consent. Hope. Draco's POV. Please read warnings.

Lemon Colour, Honey Glow | E | 67K. A love story that takes place over a series of unfortunate nights at the Leaky Cauldron. Enemies to Lovers. Falling in Love. Auror!Harry. Potion Master!Draco. Secret Relationship. Emotional Hurt/Comfort. Possessive Harry. Flangst. Beer Gardens. The Leaky Cauldron. The Slytherin Trio. Bullying/Violence. Spoilers Left Untagged.

Super Rich Kids | E | 81K. True crime meets wild government conspiracies when Draco becomes a twisted sort-of Robin Hood, robbing the badly behaving rich to give to...well...you'll have to read the story to find out! Angst. Murders. Coverups. Enemies to Friends to Lovers. Bisexual Draco. Lush descriptions of glamour. Humor. The ULTIMATE Slytherin ensemble. Mental Health Issues. Drug Usage/Addiction. Pureblood Elitism. Social Season. Angst with a Happy Ending. Draco's POV.

On The Last Day | E | 53K. Draco's role as an Unspeakable, Harry's untimely death and ghostly return, and conspiracies bind them in a quest for truth and redemption. Mystery. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Grief/Mourning. Horror Elements. Science. Neurology/Neuroscience. Slowburn. Memory Loss. Draco's POV.

My Best Friend, the Serial Killer | E | 37K. Ride or Die BFFL Draco finds he's tired of moonlighting as a serial killer's accomplice. No matter how much he loves Pansy, he draws the line at helping her dispose of a sexy, flirty Harry Potter. Dark Humor. Campy/Kitsch Elements. Serial Killer!Pansy. Healer!Draco. Femme Fatale Trope. Falling in Love. Self-Love. Jealousy. Everyone is seriously morally grey. Draco's POV.

A Ferret, a ScarHead, a Weasel, & a Baby | E | 91K. The ultimate bromance takes centre stage (alongside a sweet and tender Drarry romance) in this Three Men & a Baby inspired story! BAMF Auror Draco. Protective Draco. Healer Harry. Capable and Emotionally Intelligent Ron. Illegal Potions Ring. Orphaned Baby. Roommates. Nothing to Something to Everything. Draco's POV.

Seven Days | E | 8K. It takes seven days for the Malfoy-Potter family to unravel. Grief/Mourning. Child Abduction. Death of a Child. Implied Mpreg. Alcohol Relapse. Coming to Terms. Harry's POV. Please Read the Warnings.

Portrait of a Young Girl | M | 8K. Navigating the complexities of love, marriage, and child-rearing, Harry and Draco face a new challenge when they suspect that four-year-old Teddy might be transgender. Married Drarry. Young Couple. Inexperienced Parents. Marital Problems/Disagreements. Stay-at-Home Dad Draco. Fluff. Acceptance. Love. Family. Happy Ending. Harry's POV.

A Day at the Park | M | 6K. Draco discovers that love has its own timing, and sometimes, that means returning to the place where he once lost it all. Estranged couple. Flashbacks. Pining. Postman's Park. Exiled Draco. Draco's POV.

Long for Bliss! | E | 9K. A random night out takes a dark and thrilling turn when Harry, after taking MDMA, encounters Draco Malfoy, looking like something straight out of his wildest dreams – or nightmares. First Time Drug Use. Nightclubs. The Perils of Ennui. Mildly Dubious Consent. Rooftop Sex. Light Dom/Sub Elements. Harry's POV.

Idiot Boys In Love & More | Various Ratings | 18K. Here you'll find a collection of one-shots, drabbles, and poems about Harry and Draco that are all standalone pieces! Each story is centered on a prompt provided by @drarrymicrofic and said prompt will be listed in the summary of each story (Series I completed). Harry + Draco's POV.

[smehur]

Drarry fic recs #5

oxygen [Fic & Art] by @maesterchill

Draco doesn’t smoke. Except when he needs to breathe.

A wonderfully atmospheric rendering of the moment when the tentative friendship hesitantly built through years of unplanned meetings gently turns into a deeper, romantic intimacy. Featuring a lovely, lonely Draco and an incredibly evocative description of the magic hiding in cigarette smoke. 10/10 would read again.

AITA for being "obsessed" with my childhood nemesis? by @rainstormradish

Alrakis • I [24M] attended a small boarding school in the UK. There was a boy in my year, a couple of months younger than me, and he became my nemesis after we developed an intense rivalry. My friend [25F] told me recently that our dynamic was "weird back then" and that "it’s even weirder" that I still think about him today. She argued that I talk about him all the time, but I believe the amount I talk about him is reasonable. AITA? prongymcprongface • i completely get what you mean. i had a nemesis (like a school one, separate to my other nemesis) and we had a dynamic super similar to what you are describing. having a nemesis is a very cool and normal thing dw about it. NTA In which Draco asks the internet if he's being reasonable. Only one commenter is sympathetic. They start talking.

This was so much fun to read, I don't even. A brilliant concept, flawless execution, and bonus points for Draco's online name. ✨👌

For Lack of Wanting by @fluxweeed

Over the last ten years, I’ve worked hard to become a better person. I hate being reminded of who I used to be. But Harry likes it when I’m mean.

I loved this even though it broke my heart. Perhaps because (like with other fics that successfully broke my heart), I could totally see it: a Harry who grows into his fame, a Harry who doesn't look under the surface of things unless forced, a Harry who never spared a serious thought about Draco after the war. And a Draco desperate enough to throw everything away for him anyway. Beautifully crafted and utterly devastating.

By the Grace by @letteredlettered

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

Oh, boy. This fic. It left a mark on me. It's the second most literary fic I've read to date (topmost being Running on Air by eleventy7), and by far the most ambitious one. That summary doesn't begin to do it justice. It's a story about the initiative to reveal the wizarding world to the Muggles; the political struggles of those for and against it, including activism, media manipulation, government corruption, and even terrorism; and Harry and Draco in the midst of it all. I also suspect it's brimming with commentary on real life UK politics, but I'm too distant from those topics myself to say more. It is for this ambition, and for the the meticulous creation of a detailed post-war political landscape and the actors trying to shape it, that I wholeheartedly applaud and recommend this fic. Anyone looking for an adult, thought-provoking, political story perfectly set within the Harry Potter world will have an absolute blast with it.

But I can't say I enjoyed it. I picked it up not for the politics, but for the romance. And the romance, while definitely an omnipresent element, was kept so deep in the background, that the reading was an exercise in frustration almost to the very end. This was done purposely, with incredible consistency and discipline, and to great effect, in order to craft the slowest of slow burns. But I, like a kid bored with the things on the news, skimmed through the lot of political discussions (which are what gives the story such a strong literary vibe), constantly looking for the individual, the personal, the relatable; constantly hoping for the feels. And when they came to the fore at last, it was a bit too little, too late.

As much as I admire its ambition and craftsmanship, this is not a story I would read again. But I will never, ever forget it.

Nice Things by aideomai

The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.

Possibly the softest, gentlest, most soothing story I've read in this fandom so far. Something to come back to when my spirits need a lift. There's a scene (spoiler: it asks and answers the question, "are you fucking with me?") that I read three or four times in a row, smiling wider and wider on each go, and another (someone returning after holidays) that i had to revisit at least twice. This doesn't happen often in my reading! I confess I wished for a more detailed exploration of the developing intimacy (read: smut), but I respect the author's decisions; they left me with a heart full of warmth and a head full of dreams.

Many thanks to the wonderful authors in this fandom for sharing their stories, and to all the readers who help spread the word. ❤️

[writers-potion]

How to kill my characters?

How to Kill Your Characters

trigger warning: suicide

Good question. I'm going to risk sounding like a psychopath in the first bit of this post, and a little more sane in the second.

Ways To Die.

Physical Death

In a fight/battle: throat slashed, heart impaled, bleeding to death, head smashed in a fall, chest compressed under rubble, beheaded, choked, burnt at the stake, chest stabbed, guts spilled, blistering all over due to poison gas, taken in a bomb, multiple arrows all over the body, smashed under horses, etc.

By accident: bitten by a snake, torn in ribbons by a preditor, falling off a cliff, car accident, a knife falling from a loose rack, heart attack, severe allergy reaction, dying from heatstroke, washed away in the ocean, dying during an illegal surgery, getting stuck in a factory machine, trapped in a broken building, your clothes stuck in a truck and getting dragged around, etc.

By suicide: swallowing poison, hanging themselves, jumping off, overdosing on sleeping pills/drugs, shooting yourself in the head, setting fire on their own home, jumping into your own spear fixed on the ground, injecting yourself with lethal amounts of a drug, drowning yourself, drinking to death, filling your room with carbon monoxide, etc.

Due to illnesses that might be chronic or discovered too late for a cure. It can be a rare illness like being allergic of sunlight/water, etc.

Due to crime/abuse/bullying.

Euthanesia.

Starving to death.

Psychological Death

Losing a job that you've held for 30 years

Losing a relationship that was central in the MC's life

A terrible betrayal that make them lose their trust in humanity.

How to Make Character Deaths Effective.

Obviously, don't kill your characters for the sake of insering a "shock factor". Each death must either further the plot or convey the theme of your story.

Death of a naive character/loved on/supporter are used to drive the hero into a corner, which will motivate them to seek the Final Epiphany to win at the end.

You can kill a character to kill the thing they represent. For example, the death of a guru/parent is often used to convey how everyone must learn to break out of the nest to grow into an indepedent person.

Death as a consequence. Your hero may need to give up their loved ones to save the world, or give up their own life for their loved ones.

Death of the MC should leave a lasting image for the reader and reflect the overall theme of the novel. For example, the MC dying in the middle of a battlefield makes the reader question the matter of human cruelty and the futility of war.

How to Convey Death

Depict the dying character closing their eyes, chesting rising and falling for the last time, the focus in their eyes going out, limbs going limp, etc.

From the POV of a dying character: thick darkness falling, they welcoming peace, seeing their life go by, seeing Death

You can choose to skip direct description of death and show the funeral/other characters mourning as an aftermath.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

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[starlingflight]

Your response to that anon reminded me of something I've been thinking for a while and it's that Harry being bad with girls/romance is something made up by fans and not entirely accurate to his character.

In the books he is able to pick up on Ron and Hermiones feelings for each other and Fleurs attraction to Bill pretty quickly, and when it comes to himself there are always reasons why romance is not his first thought.

In GOF Harry thinks the girls are only asking him to the ball because he's a champion, which given nearly the entire schools previous treatment of him makes sense. Same goes for the girls who were interested in him in HBP, he doesn't realize they like him because nearly the whole school and wizarding world at large spent the previous year attacking him for being "crazy".

Then we have Cho and Ginny, with Cho he picks up on his own feelings for her kinda fast but is to slow in making a move and the reason it fails is because, as you pointed out, they're both dealing with their own trauma and he is also inexperienced. With Ginny he's told she has a crush on him by Ron but Hermione later tells him she's over it, and every time he comes close to realizing his feelings for her he gets distracted, by girls on the train looking at him in awe, Ginny's concern over his potion book after the amortentia scene, and Katie being cursed by the necklace.

Sorry for the long message I have just been wanting to say this for a while.

More thoughts below the cut if anyone wants some ramblings because I could ‘and another thing’ myself into talking about this all day.

I’m not saying he’s Hitch or anything, but he’s not the hopeless loser a strangely large proportion of fans think he is.

I blame a lot of this misconception on movie scenes like Harry spitting juice all down himself (book!Harry would never) and just Daniel Radcliffe’s generally kind of awkward theatre kid vibe (no offence to Daniel Radcliffe, I’m a big fan of him in general but he’s just not Harry).

With the Yule Ball, he’s literally not trying bc he’s not interested in Parvati. It’s not like he’s making an effort with a girl and he’s bad at it.

With Ginny, the only full scene we get of their actual relationship (criminal) is Harry flawlessly setting her up for a joke and the only mildly awkward scene we get of them post-OotP is the DH birthday kiss scene when there’s so many things they both know they can’t say.

He keeps his cool with a freakin’ part-Veela when Ron can’t hold it together for 30 seconds around Fleur for a lot of GoF.

Anyway, I don’t think he and Ginny are perfect communicators, I actually think their ability to deal with conflict would be a big obstacle for them post war and maybe in some upcoming chapters of Bewitched but I don’t think Harry gets enough credit in general.

[celestialsister0918]

Fireside: A Sirius Black Christmas Oneshot

Happy holidays, loves! Here is a gift for my Sirius Black friends. Tumblr exclusive for now, probably cross-posted to my AO3 and Wattpad eventually.

A few warnings— it’s EXPLICIT smut. 18+ interaction only, please. 

It’s a Sirius x You (fem-reader) fic, but you have a House. It was necessary for the plot. Hopefully you are House-flexible or can be for the next 6k+ words. 

Get warm and cozy and enjoy… and please let me know what you think… reblogs are much appreciated, as are likes and comments. I love chatting with readers and fellow Sirius lovers.

You stood at the doorway to Number Twelve with your heart beating wildly against your chest. Harry and the other students had left for second term just a few short hours ago, with the Weasleys close behind. They were giving Arthur the chance to continue his recovery at the Burrow, hoping to speed his efforts with the comforts of home rather than the sullen, dreary darkness of Grimmauld Place. At least that’s what you’d overheard in their whispers after last night’s dinner, which had followed the last meeting of the Order for the year.

The whispers, of course, were for the benefit of the one inhabitant of the house who wasn’t granted the choice of leaving. No matter how dark and dreary, no matter how much his spirits needed lifting. And they certainly seemed to need lifting last night. As soon as the meeting had adjourned, Sirius Black retreated upstairs with nary a goodbye. Harry had seemed disappointed at this. It was only natural he’d want to soak up every minute possible with his godfather before returning to Hogwarts. But Black had fallen prey to another “fit of the sullens,” as Molly liked to label them with a disapproving shake of her head.

You understood those types of fits all too well, having suffered your own tragedies throughout the Wizarding Wars, as well as typical adolescent heartaches and disappointments that seemed to continue into your early adult years too. Maybe you simply took things too seriously. Life just seemed to come easy to more carefree witches and the wizards that worshiped them. You’d heard stories that Sirius Black himself used to fall into that lighthearted, devil-may-care category many years ago. But he’d experienced unimaginable darkness, and you knew the last thing he needed was to hide away alone, even if he fought you tooth and nail over it. 

With a sharp intake of breath, you broke through the warded door with charms meant only for official gatherings of the Order. You prayed to the gods that there wasn’t some terrible punishment for doing so. You sighed with relief when you were greeted only by the eerie silence of cold, dark air— which was a sound unto itself, strange as that seemed. The familiar dank smell filled your nostrils, but it didn’t bother you. It simply set the ambience of a home filled with magic and mystery and stories, dreaded though some of them may be. The walls were alive with history, and there was something intriguingly romantic about the place, if you were honest. You knew the man you were about to encounter would adamantly disagree and would probably throw you out on your arse for thinking so. You’d be sure to keep your strange admiration for the place to yourself for a while, at least until he warmed up to you a bit. 

That could take awhile indeed, you thought grimly. Rather than start on such a task right away, you chose to descend to the kitchen and make yourself a calming cup of tea. Perhaps a drop or two of schnapps for some liquid courage were in order also. As the kettle warmed, you made your way to the flocked tree in the rear of the kitchen and smiled as you studied the ornaments there. Sirius himself had conjured and crafted most of them just days earlier, when he’d been noticeably more joyful. The anticipation of Christmas had lifted him out of his funk, and he’d been determined to replace his family’s fancy heirloom ornaments with much more colorful, animated, and exciting ones. You enjoyed examining them while you waited for the kettle to whistle. They were a glimpse into his true self— the fun, whimsical side you always heard about in tales from the older Order members. 

You’d seen that side a bit in your interactions with him so far. He had a certain glint in his eye as he teased you for your lack of coordination, which coincidentally had landed you in his lap one evening when you’d hooked the toe of your boot unceremoniously under the crossbar of the wooden kitchen bench. 

“I- I’m so sorry,” you had stammered, your face painfully hot. He’d caught you with an arm scooped under your back.

“I’m not,” he’d quipped back with a glimmer in his blue gray eyes. And he’d given your thigh a couple quick pats with his large palm, just fatherly enough that you weren’t quite sure if he saw you as a cute, clumsy, overgrown kid— or something a bit sexier, as that glimmer in his eye along with his comment might have suggested. 

Subsequent meetings were difficult after that fateful fall. You couldn’t stop your eyes from straying in his direction. In spite of his scraggly, unkept stubble and perhaps accelerated aging from Azkaban, he was undoubtedly a beautiful man. The Black family genetics were famous for a reason. Their symmetry and grace, smooth skin, full and shiny hair, and silky, aristocratic voices were mesmerizing. It was no wonder they drifted toward the Dark Arts; with gifts like that, they could clearly coerce lesser mortals into doing anything. 

Sirius was made only more handsome by the tattoos that covered the previews of skin he revealed— a sexy “fuck you” to the house, the Black family line, and anyone who may chide him for daring to be different. You admired the confidence his swaths of ink portrayed, and each passing meeting made you yearn to study them up close. For academic purposes, of course. Continuing education in Ancient Runes. Field work. 

“Do you not take sugar in your tea?” 

The voice was quite light and innocent, but it startled you so much you spilled said tea straight through the holes of your wool sweater. 

“Fuck!” you hissed. “You scared me, Black.” 

He smiled and strode behind you, reaching around your front to grasp a kitchen rag that hung from the lower cupboard handle. He spun you around with hands on your upper arms and promptly began absorbing the spill. Of course he could have taken care of it with a mere wand wave. Interesting that he chose the more manual route. 

“I scared you?” Sirius mused. “And to think you’re the one breaking and entering and stealing my tea. Which, strangely, you’re sipping black at the moment. Is this because you don’t know where to find the proper accompaniments, or are you simply that odd?”

“Simply that odd, I’m afraid,” you admitted, leaning back against the wooden counter with legs outstretched. “I like it black. Enjoy the flavor.”

This was met with a slightly arched eyebrow, but he recovered quickly and reached around you again to grab his own mug.

“I prefer it quite sweet, and loaded with cream, personally,” Sirius commented, voice still maddeningly silky and light. It tickled over your eardrums like a melody. His tongue snaked out as he tilted the mug to his lips and slurped. 

“Don’t you Blacks have to attend some finishing school before you’re sent to Hogwarts?” you teased him. “Don’t they teach you not to slurp there?” 

Sirius didn't miss a beat. “You’ll find I’m a bit of a dog, darling. I’m rather noisy and messy with my mouth.” 

That rush of heat filled your cheeks again, and you found yourself trembling a little with adrenaline at how quickly things had escalated. Or did they? The conversation was quite innocent, on a service level. Perhaps your building desire for him had you reading things that weren’t there. You decided to change the subject and try to calm your racing blood.

“You seem quite a bit… happier… than the other day,” you offered as he continued to enjoy his tea. “Did you have a nice day today?”

Sirius seemed to snort. “I had a fucking awful day. How could I have anything but in a place like this?”

“I’m sure it’s not so bad, with the right company,” you pointed out nervously, suddenly scared you might piss him off enough that he’d order you to leave. 

“I’ve had nothing but company for weeks,” he replied. “It can help, I suppose. But I’m still trapped.” 

You weren’t quite sure what to say to this, so you busied yourself with your own mug, roving the kitchen slowly to avoid eye contact while you plotted where to go next.

“Is that why you’re here?” Sirius continued softly. “Do you believe you’re the ‘right company?’” His expression seemed skeptical.

You shrugged shakily. “I— I dunno. I guess I just thought… you shouldn’t be alone. I… I like being alone occasionally. But you… you don’t really seem like that type.”

“Not a bit,” he agreed. “But it’s not just about the company. It’s about experiences. And I’ve experienced everything there is to do here. Millions of miserable times over.” 

You bit your lip, knowing you could never be so bold as to suggest novel experiences he might try. You were pretty sure he hadn’t had many of those— if any— within these walls. Not with multitudes of pureblood portraits staring him down. Of course he very well could have fooled around with pureblood girls here growing up, right? Just because he wasn’t a supremacist like his forebears didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy a dip in the pureblood pool from time to time. 

“So,” he continued, addressing you by your name as he crept closer, step by step. “What experiences are you bringing with your company? How will you keep me from being bored?” His eyebrows arched and narrowed adorably with his words as he challenged you. 

He stopped just short of invading your space, so you could still view him easily from head to toe. He wore a thick velvet robe in deep burgundy overtop a black and green pinstripe shirt that was honestly a bit… Slytherin-like, when taken in isolation. Perhaps he hadn’t invested in a new wardrobe upon his return and simply relied on the house’s contents. But it suited him nonetheless— this regal contrast of the two houses adorned with his double Albert chain and shiny brown dress shoes. Of course the colors were befitting the season as well, a reminder that Christmas joy still lingered in the air, if one looked for it. You imagined that the house once saw splendid Christmas feasts— glittering, elegant affairs filled with firelight and extravagance as the Wizarding World’s upper crust filled every floor. Personally you enjoyed picturing something more intimate, more cozy, within those old walls. 

“Let’s light a fire,” you suggested, setting your teacup down and leading the way to the parlor.

Sirius scoffed behind you but followed nonetheless. “Why would we do that? The entirety of the house is under a warming charm, darling.” 

“Hogwarts has fires in the common rooms, does it not? They were nice.”

“Nice, but obviously unnecessary,” he continued practically. 

“You need some actual warmth in this place,” you insisted, setting to work lighting the floo. “The kind of warmth that feels good on the inside too. Comfort. A glow.” 

“You’re a Hufflepuff, aren’t you?” Sirius asked with a snicker, reclining in a large, faded velvet armchair. He spread his legs in a wide slouch, and you couldn’t help but gaze downward at the movement. Thick, ribbed corduroy slacks hugged thin legs and tapered down to fine silk socks, above which you saw the faintest glimpse of pale skin and dark hair. 

“What does my house matter?” you returned in a non-answer. The fire roared to life in the large black marble, and instead of joining him in the companion armchair, you chose to settle on the rug right in front of the flames. Your skin was already on fire, of course, from the turn-on of his earlier proximity and banter. But the added warmth felt nice, and you hugged your knees to your chest. 

“Your house doesn’t matter,” he agreed. Just simply a guess. Now, what about that experience you’re going to offer me? Still waiting for an answer on that one.” Sirius rested an elbow on the chair arm, his fingers toying with the ends of his long mustache where it met the unruly stubble on his chin. 

“Come down here with me. This is an experience,” you responded, patting the empty space next to you on the rug. It was thick and smooth, richly woven, and of course very expensive. You could feel thick loops of fine threads beneath your fingers as you traced its intricate pattern. 

“Sitting by a fire?” Sirius asked incredulously. But he did make a move to join you, settling down in the spot you indicated and then shifting closer. His robe brushed the sleeve of your sweater, and he made no move to back away. 

“Well, what kind of experience did you have in mind?” you shot back.

Sirius shrugged innocently, eyes twinkling in the dim light. “No idea, love. You’re the one who showed up on my doorstep, remember? Don’t you have a plan for these things? Or are they spontaneous? Maybe you’re a Gryffindor then?” 

You gave a small smile, refusing to answer the question. Instead you studied the details of his face you’d never noticed from afar, features augmented by the dancing shadows of light. He had a very well defined facial muscle that gave an intermittent sexy twitch. And another defined crease on the underneath of his nose that made you curious if you had one; you had always just envisioned it to be smooth. But most magnificent was the way the firelight bounced off of every soft curl — a bountiful dark mahogany crown that would be the envy of any woman alive. You longed to run your hands through it, betting it was even more luxurious than the tapestry rug beneath your increasingly aroused bottom half. 

“I’m beginning to feel rather exposed,” Sirius declared, amused. “I don’t think I’ve ever been examined in such detail before. Is this for ‘science,’ as the Muggles say?”

You cleared your throat nervously. “Uh, yes. Wizarding genetics, I guess. You’re just very… impressive.” You winced at the terrible recovery. 

Sirius responded with a sweep of a tattooed hand over your cheek. “I’m flattered, coming from a witch as exquisite as yourself. Not to mention young. I believe I have quite a few years on you, yes?”

Your heartbeat was painfully audible as you tried to craft an answer. His fingers still explored your face, alternating with occasional twists of an adjacent lock of your hair. Each sweep of his skin over yours seemed to make your veins tremble. 

You truly didn’t know how to respond. Your Muggle friend had once informed you that the term for your specific brand of fixation was “daddy kink,” but you weren’t sure admitting that would do you any favors. You liked how his touch was so self-assured, and the richness of his scent, and how he always knew what to say without hesitation. You liked how the hard lines of his face and hands denoted strength and experience. And you liked how he made you feel small and fragile and protected just by being near you. You wished you could tell him all that without sounding ridiculous. But you were fairly certain you were already communicating it with your parted lips, panting breath, and love-drunk eyes. 

“You are going to make my night interesting after all, aren’t you, little one?” Sirius husked, and the bud between your legs danced frantically up and down in response. How did he know to call you that? Your eyes closed with the dizziness of your anticipation, and the hand that had drifted so gently over your cheek now rested fully on your throat. His scent became even more pronounced, alerting you to his closeness just before his mustache tickled your upper lip in the briefest of warnings. 

The kiss he gave you was chaste and just enough for you to learn the shape of his lips before he pulled away. 

“If you don’t want this, you need to tell me,” Sirius said, his voice low as it drifted directly across your ear. “I’ll stop if you ask me to— at any point. But this is the only asking I’ll be doing myself. Once I begin, you’ll find I’m far too busy to stop and check in.” 

His forehead rested gently on yours, his deep blue eyes smoky in the dim light. 

“Busy doing what?” you whispered— half teasingly, half desperate for the fire between your legs to be stoked by all the dirty things he would promise.

Sirius chuckled lowly. “You like dirty talk, little one?”

Your affirmative answer came as a whimper, which elicited another devilish chuckle from his lips. 

“Very well,” he said silkily. He punctuated the words with another firm kiss on your lips, this time allowing the very tip of his tongue to trace the outline of the bottom one before planting light kisses along your jawline to your earlobe. He paused there, allowing a breath to tickle your ear before he spoke.

“I am going to make every part of your body come alive, as if I cast a spell. But there will be no wand— only my hands, my mouth, my voice. I will make your delicious cunt so wet it will be weeping for my cock. Then I will bury it in you so deep you scream… so loud you’ll wake every portrait in this house and make them curse your sweet, beautiful name. You will ride my cock for as many mind-numbing orgasms as your body can handle, then I will take my pleasure and fill you so full of my seed that it trickles down these soft, smooth thighs all day long tomorrow. You’ll feel it and remember me, and you’ll want it all over again.” 

Sirius accompanied his filthy murmurings with firm strokes to your inner thigh, hand already buried inside your skirt. You let out an almost agonized groan in response— all intelligible communication now impossible. Your body literally shook just from his promises, and you knew the look you gave him as he came to a kneel on the rug was one of complete and utter submission. 

His hands came beneath your head to cradle it, hands swept in the tangle of your hair as kisses became more insistent, open-mouthed, and allowed you taste the salt and firewhisky on his breath. His tongue explored in gentle licks followed by long sweeps of your mouth, as if it was truly a mission to discover inner parts of you and not just kissing. 

You became eager for his hands to move elsewhere, but they still held your head still for his mouth to continue its wicked work. His kisses made your head spin, but the rest of your body felt in heat and neglected. You came to your knees yourself, hands introducing themselves to the sturdy velvet of his jacket, your legs making a move to straddle one of his trousered thighs. He let out a low laugh.

“So eager,” he chastised. “I’m the one who hasn’t shagged in fourteen years, yet I’m the one demonstrating all the patience.”

“I want you!” you defended yourself breathlessly, not even caring if you sounded desperate now. You just needed relief, and to have this wizard covering every inch of you.

“Ah, there it is. The answer I needed to my question,” he said with a wink. “You needed to give me permission, you know.”

“You have it,” you insisted, and as a visual aid to your words, you took the initiative to shrug out of your own sweater. Your breasts swelled over the cups of your lacy, favorite-colored bra. You noticed Sirius became strangely still at the sight, his mouth parting.

“Fucking beautiful,” he managed to mutter, and he cast his own robe aside to free his movement as he reclined you both onto the rug. His fingers gently slid one strap from your shoulder, replacing it with his mouth and soft whiskers. The detailed attention he paid to a spot as random as your shoulder reminded you of his promise to awaken every part of your body. Sirius planned to make every cell literally beg.

His kisses danced across your collarbone in a similar fashion, tended to the next shoulder, then came to center on your pulse point, where he began a gentle suction. You let out a cry at this and took the chance to enjoy his gorgeous, thick curls while he worked his mouth on your upper body’s most sensitive spot. 

“I’m going to have wicked marks if you keep doing that,” you teased with a whisper. Sirius’s nose brushed your earlobe as he went for the other side, sucking the sensitive skin beneath like he was starving.

“Good,” he finally broke to whisper back. “And your neck’s not the only spot I plan to mark you.” He added teeth to the mix now, grazing lightly over your throbbing pulse. Would he bite? Would you even care if he did? But he only threatened such before moving lower, working your arms out of the dangling bra straps to reveal your breasts to him. His breath caught in his chest as he appreciated them with his eyes first before cupping them hard, one in each hand. His rough thumbs drove your nipples into peaks, watching each little bump emerge with fascination. 

You observed him with a smile, arms leaned back behind you to prop you up for his amusement. You realized of course that it had been over a decade since he’d played with such toys, and though your body was humming for more, you granted him his boy-like fun. Sirius alternated between circling your nipples into painfully hard peaks and kneading your breasts like dough before finally suckling the left into his mouth. The action caused your eyes to roll back in your head. This wizard knew what he was doing. It was more than just taking the soft, pliable tissue into his mouth— he created a firm, merciless suction whose movements echoed between your thighs in violent waves. Your legs parted reflexively, and you grabbed his hand, encouraging it down to feel your burning heat. 

“Please touch me,” you begged. “I’m so wet for you.”

Sirius responded to this with a hungry growl, releasing your breast to reveal brand new marks as promised. He gave the other another very rough squeeze before grabbing at your skirt, ripping it downward. He sent it hurling away, narrowly missing the fire. The rip of lace echoed through the air as your knickers followed. 

“Am I supposed to walk home with no knickers tomorrow?” you mused above the noisy kisses he planted to the soft skin of your stomach. 

“You’re not going home tomorrow,” he replied quickly. “And you’ll be naked all day. And you certainly won’t be walking by the time I’m finished with you.”

“Oh, so you— you like it rough then?” you asked between gasps, shuddering as his fingers traced the tops of your inner thighs, which opened to the hot breaths drifting over your sex. 

“Not always,” he answered, grinning up at you from between your parted legs. “But the Black family genetics extend to other endowments as well. In both size and stamina. Even sweeter lovemaking can lend itself to the need for pain potions, love. Do you still consent?”

You licked your lips and lowered your eyes, feeling them burn with sultry want. “I thought you weren’t going to ask anymore?”

“Gryffindor chivalry,” he dismissed with an adorable pursing of his lips. “It’s a curse sometimes.” 

“Yes, I consent,” you answered with a grin of your own. “But before you touch me like I asked, I want you out of those clothes. I need to see this endowment of which you speak.” 

Sirius sat up and gave your thighs a swift tap before closing them. Your own wetness was dripping onto them at this point, and you could smell sex on the air already. 

“You don’t believe me?” he inquired with raised brows. 

“Well, you know, Gryffindors are fond of bragging…”

Sirius let out a deep laugh. “So I can assume you’re not a Gryffindor, then, with a comment like that.” He stood and began disrobing, his thumbs drifting over the buttons of the dark green shirt. Each tattoo he revealed made you salivate. He wore a thick, shiny belt buckle now displayed over a prominent bulge in his trousers, and you imagined he was growing quite uncomfortable in there. 

“Still not telling you my house,” you replied, shifting your closed legs from one side to the other as you watched your strip show, offering him tantalizing glimpses of your cunt and arse but never separating your thighs for a full view. Sirius never took his eyes off of you, and when his trousers swiftly lowered, you were greeted by the surprise of no underwear— followed by the thick, glorious inches of a very hard, uncut, pureblood cock on display. Your jaw dropped open. 

“Already opening up for me?” Sirius commented silkily. “Good girl.”

You nodded, ready to have your mouth fucked speechless if that’s what he wanted. But Sirius seemed to have other plans, pouncing back on you in under a second. He parted your legs almost violently, his face voracious as he plunged his nose into your soaking wetness to inhale before licking furiously. 

“Oh, fucking gods!” you moaned, arching into his frenzied movements. He was truly very noisy and beast-like with his mouth, as he’d warned. His tongue alternated between flat, all-encompassing licks across your entire slit, and tiny, strong, targeted flicks around your bud. He approached your sensitive, nerve-filled opening with his tongue in a stiff point, swirling it around to beckon wetness from you in droves. 

“I’m fucking drowning you down there,” you moaned, arching your back against the soft rug. 

“I told you I like loads of sweet cream,” Sirius responded with a murmur. “Keep it coming, love. Soak my face.” 

His tongue rammed your g-spot now, his whole stubbled face buried in your cunt. Your smell filled the hot air and was so sexy you wanted some yourself. Sirius seemed in tune with your needs because his fingers found your hole as his tongue drifted upward to concentrate on your swollen bud again. 

“Let me taste your fingers,” you whispered. 

“So you do like sugar and cream after all?” he chuckled before obliging with a rather rough shove of his soaked digits into your mouth. His wet stubble scratched your face as his words sought your ear. “Or maybe you’re just a very dirty girl.” 

You sucked the delicious sweet-salty combo from Sirius’s fingers, offering kitten licks, strong suction, and previews of all the things he could expect once that glorious cock was in your mouth. His hand found its place within your slit again and began purposeful movements, the back of his palm massaging your clit as his fingers found the g-spot again, kneading the spongy, swollen tissue. 

“Please fuck me,” you begged. “I need your cock.” 

“Oh yeah?” he mused delicately, leveling his heady eyes to yours. “You don’t like what my fingers are doing to you, darling?” 

“I love it,” you panted. “But I’m gonna come!”

“Then come, sweetheart. You can still come on my cock. Promise.” Sirius’s hand picked up its pace so any resistance was hopeless. His mouth returned to your neck to secure you in place as the waves took over your body, your whole frame convulsing in one giant shake after another with your beautiful release against his hand. Sirius’s wet mouth closed over yours, his tongue invading as he situated his warm, taut body between your legs. Your bud was still tingling with aftershocks when he touched the head of his cock to it, angling for pressure. 

His girthy shaft sought its spot between your glistening lower lips, hips driving the thick tip up against the underside of your clit, and his hard, veiny surface sliding against your still swollen vulva. Sirius wasn’t going to let the pressure ease for even a minute, making sure to build another climax even stronger than the first for his cock to work you through. 

“Inside me, please!” you breathed into his mouth. 

“I think you can come just like this, darling,” he argued. “Don’t you?” The ridge of his cockhead massaged your clit furiously with his back and forth, and your body gushed messily all over his shaft. Your nails made deep half moons in his tattooed shoulders.

“Y— yes, I can come for you.” You arched up to grind into his impossibly hard length, seeking the rhythm and friction you needed to push over the edge. It required wild gyration and complete abandonment of any self consciousness. Your breasts bounced against his chest, and you clung so tightly to him to ground yourself that your nose was buried in his curls, smelling his animalic musk.

You screamed as you reached peak again, the tremors tinier this time but still exquisite. Exhausted, you fell limply to the rug and took him with you, giving grateful caresses to the smooth skin of his back. Of course you were still aware of his inches throbbing against your thigh, and you knew you had to summon more energy if you were going to give Sirius the satisfaction he needed. The man hadn’t lain with a woman in nearly a decade and a half, and you wanted his cock thoroughly and ecstatically drained. You’d be lying, though, if your twice-satisfied cunt wasn’t worried about such a massive invasion. Your gratitude for the blissful, explosive orgasms aside— you kind of wish he’d honored your request and fucked you when you were swollen, open, and on fire. 

Sirius raised himself on his elbows, gazing down at you with a lazy smile. 

“You’re really fucking beautiful, you know that, Slytherin girl?”

You blinked and jumped. “What?”

Sirius gnawed at his lip and continued to grin, deep blue eyes sparkling. “You heard me.”

“What makes you say that?” you demanded. “You haven’t even guessed Ravenclaw yet!”

“You let me fuck you way too dumb to be a ‘Claw, and I haven’t even fucked you yet,” he pointed out. “I’ve had my fair share of Ravenclaw witches, and they never quite know when to shut up, Merlin love them.”

“Hey, Slytherins are smart too,” you said with a narrowed brow before you could stop yourself. 

Sirius gave a hard smack to your arse before pulling you onto your side, his erection buried in your stomach. You laid breasts to chest, feet and legs entangled, faces flush. 

“Tell me,” he said with a slight scowl. “How did they let another Slytherin into the Order? Do they not have standards anymore?”

“Oh, fuck you, Black,” you muttered. 

“You’re still doing that, darling, don’t worry. No slithering your way out of that one. You know I’m just trying to rile you up and get you going again so you can handle my cock. Maybe a hate-fuck would be a nice game, now that our alliances are on the table? Would you like that?” His fingers tickled down your ribs and hips before finding the triangle he sought, just his fingertips easing lower to scissor your bud. 

“Our ‘alliances’ are the same, you prick,” you laughed, accepting his fingers with an approving arch of your hips. 

“Yes, but this new tidbit makes it so much more fun,” he insisted. “You’ve delivered on that new experience I wanted. A fine Christmas present indeed.” 

“So this is your first time with a Slytherin?” you asked, doing nothing to hide your pride at that possibility.

“Virgin,” Sirius confirmed with a nod. “As if twelve years in Azkaban didn’t revirginize me enough, this makes it official. Now, show me what I’ve been missing.” He collapsed rather dramatically on the rug, hand behind his head, curls strewn about the intricate paisley pattern. His body was breathtaking— glowing in the firelight, each turn of muscle accentuated by shadow, each tattoo taking turns in the spotlight with the maneuver of flames. And at the center of the beauty was that cock, which hadn’t lost a bit of wind with this latest reveal of information. A generous leak of precum glistened at the tip, and you lowered your mouth to drink it in, your hair tickling his thighs. The first taste left you craving more, and your mouth slid over his huge shaft like a sleeve, locking him in your throat. You heard a grunt of shock escape his mouth. 

“Fuck, that was fast,” Sirius groaned. 

You eased off of him teasingly, lips forming an up and down suction which you accompanied with twists of your hand. He tasted positively feral yet clean and refined, just as you would have imagined. His tip leaked loads into your mouth, feeling like it would burst at any second if it weren’t for his exceptional control. 

“Mmm… you taste good, Black,” you moaned approvingly. “Almost good enough that I’d settle for your load in my mouth if I didn’t want you to fuck my pussy so badly.”

“On your knees, fucking snake cunt,” he ordered with a wink, the fact that it was a game unmistakable. You gave one long, final suck up his shaft and gave a squeeze to his balls, drawing another deep groan from him.

In an instant Sirius’s hands were in your hips, holding you in place while his dripping head found your center. He was right— the banter had you on fire again, and your swollen walls took every inch of him as he pushed inside without hesitation. 

“Ahhhh!” you cried out, unable to help yourself. His hips were a frenzy, abandoning every bit of his previous control now that he was within your tightness. Your breasts bounced in mad circles with the force of his pounding, and sure enough, you could hear the portraits stirring down the hall from the primal noises the two of you made.

“Oh, Sirius, yes,” you breathed, enjoying the repeated raking of his tip, ridge, and underside along your spongy, swollen front wall. He knew just how much to drag back and surge forward, never breaking the rhythm you needed to build to another crest in a matter of minutes. His chest was sweaty when it made contact with your back, and he occasionally dropped open-mouthed kisses to the skin of your shoulder blades with his forward surges. Every so often he broke his rigid support on the rug to squeeze your breasts, kneading them so tightly you knew you’d have bruises for weeks. 

“Feel good, love?” he husked, and you knew he knew full well you were beyond good. His ego just wanted to hear it. 

“Yes, Sirius. Fuck yes. Please come inside me.”

And it was truly your foremost want in that moment — to fill his hot cum paint your insides and have the satisfaction of giving him what he’d needed for so long. He renewed his lock tight grip on your hips and granted your request, resuming the pounding of your g-spot but faster now, the friction very much for his benefit— with yours as a mere pleasant side effect. 

“Fuck, yes, I’m gonna fill you so full,” he promised breathily. “And you better come for me again. You better scream.”

You reached around to toy with your clit and make sure you obeyed his command, but he swatted your hand away and replaced it with his own, his fingers taking on a rhythm to match his snapping hips. All you could do was let out a long stream of moans and buck furiously in return, knowing that chasing your own pleasure would only increase his. His escalated moans confirmed he was approaching release, and you grinned as you picked up the pace even more feverishly, wanting to torture it out of him. 

“Fucking GODS!!!” Sirius yelled, and he emptied into you with one hot jet after another, so much it ran right back out over his trembling cock. You kept your pace even after his cock stilled, the added lubricant from his release making easy work of your movements. The thought of being filled with him made your orgasm deliciously hot and dirty as your walls burned with pain and need. Sirius recovered enough to resume the pace of his fingers on your clit, and you spilled over the edge, lurching forward in a series of shakes that wracked your entire body. 

You fell forward onto your belly, a mess dripping from your insides, your muscles and bones useless, your skin bruised. It was every way you should feel after a proper fuck. Your brain positively hummed with endorphins, and you breathed in the deliciousness of your combined sex on the air. You could hear Sirius struggling to regain his breath behind you, and you knew he looked sexy as fuck back there. But you were too exhausted to lift yourself up and look. 

You weren’t even sure how much time had passed when you felt his arms encircle you, along with the cold rush of air as he lifted you from the warmth of the rug. He wasn’t a huge man, though you’d heard from other Order members that he was considerably stronger now than when he’d escaped the sea prison two years ago. He carried you easily up multiple twists of stairs until you reached a Gryffindor red room on the very top level. Then Sirius nestled you gingerly into a brightly colored duvet. 

“Will you be able to sleep with this much red, or should I move you to the green room next door?” he asked dryly, shuffling his naked body next to yours and leaving you little choice in the matter.

“Well, it is Christmastime,” you reminded him sleepily. “The two play rather nicely together right now.” 

Sirius responded by nuzzling into your shoulder, his whiskers scratching tiny red prickles into your skin. 

[alpaca-clouds]

The DnD Lore Problem - Accessibility and Characters (and how BG3 might not help)

You know what? I am gonna talk about DnD Lore and the accessibility of that lore. I talked about this exessively before. But to summarize that long blog very shortly:

Wizards of the Coasts currently makes the mistake of putting basically most DnD Lore behind a paywall, rather than offering official ressources. This leads to a lot of tables actually playing with their original worlds, rather than Toril/Faerûn, which in turn also means, that they are not spending money on official products. While my anti-capitalist ass things that the lore should be accessible just so that people can enjoy it, I also think that this inaccessibility actually costs WotC A LOT OF MONEY.

Today I want to talk about another aspect of this inaccessibility, that is kinda linked to some of the stuff I talked about before, but also is linked to the things WotC is currently not doing in terms of both Honor Among Thieves and Baldur's Gate 3. A thing, that also might not quite work with BG3, though.

See, the core problem of this inaccessibility is, that a) there is no official place where you can just get base information about the world and the timeline, b) this world has grown organically for about half a century, which lead to clutter, but also to the fact that things are at times showing their age.

I might actually make a post on the gods and religion in the world at some other point - but for now let me talk about something else: Extended universes and access points.

The Problem with Extended Universes

Okay, let's talk about how a lot of the big franchises for the longest time have told their meta stories - including DnD - and how it kinda struggles to find its audience. The extended universe.

I am frankly not entirely sure what franchise has started this. I am assuming it was Star Trek? But that is just a guess. But at some point in the 60s oder 70s someone had the idea that: "Hey, we could totally give the fans more to chew on by making official tie-in comics and novels!"

And that was how it worked for very long. Like a lot of the big franchises had at times around 10 novels and comics (if not more) releasing per year that would just explore other parts of the universe and allow the very engaged fans to... well, learn more about the world. Now, I am not going to talk about all the drama connected to the Star Wars stuff, but if you know, you know.

DnD did this too. (As did a lot of the big TTRPG systems, like Shadowrun and WoD as well.) Having a lot of tie in stuff - in the case of DnD mostly novels - that told more stories on the world and also established like some big player characters within the world. Elminster Aumar is probably one of the best examples here.

Those established some characters that play a big role within the world and also told just more stories of those big world changing events. In the recent DnD history that would be stuff like the Time of Troubles, the Spellplague and the Second Sundering.

Now, here we have one big issue. And one issue where I am not entirely certain where it arose from. But the fact is: In recent years, people invest way less into those kind of books. This is just a fact.

It is the reason why those big universes went from publishing like ten novels a year to often not more than three. We saw that in the failure of the extended Universe Disney tried to pull off for Pirates of the Caribbean (though I will still maintain that another big problem was that they barely marketed that at all - hi, everyone, who did not know there were extended universe novels for PotC). We also saw that with League of Legends, who really, really tried to tell a lot more stories with short stories and then also some novels set in Runeterra, before finally giving up, because most people didn't care.

In terms of Dungeons & Dragons I can totally see that a lot of people will also say: "I do not care what some other people's characters do within the world." Buuuuuut...

Stories actually can help you understand the world. Which brings me to...

The Elminster Problem

Okay, I do not know how to put this, but... If you look at the novels coming out for DnD literally half of them focus on either Elminster Aumar or Drizzt Do'Urden. Characters that have pretty much been around since the very beginning and. Look, I don't know how to put it but... It shows.

I am currently reading some of the newer novels and the fact is, that they do not really feel like fantasy books from the 2010s and 2020s. Because Elminster and Drizzt are very clearly characters originating in a very different time when stories were told very differently.

I mean, just look at Elminster. He is a wanna-be Gandalf character. He is from the early, early days of fantasy and... Look, I personally just really am unable to identify with a character like this.

And while Drizzt is a bit better as a character, but even he... How to put this delicately? They are both very much characters written by white cishet men for white cishet men. There, I said it.

I am noticing this a lot with reading Salvatore's books currently. Like, female characters are not overly sexualized, which is a plus. But they also very much exist most of the time in service to a man or at least in relation to a man. There is not a lot of female characters running around that have their own agency.

Which kinda leads to another thing. I actually saw this one brought up by one of those very cliché nerdy Youtube channels talking on DnD, who recognized the problem as well: There are basically two large groups of DnD players who barely intersect. One is the cliché nerds, the other is a largely queer and largely diverse group. And the youtube guy, who was very in the white cishet nerd group, suspected that actually the later group makes up more of the player base by now.

Buuuut... that is also the group who really do not get catered to by the canon lore so far. That was until 2023 with DnD:HAT and BG3 - both catering actually a lot to those groups.

Honor Among Thieves and the undermarketed books

Okay, here is the thing: Honor Among Thieves had two novelizations (one for young readers, one for older readers) and two tie-in novels. One featuring Edgin, Holga, Forge and Simon before the stuff with Sofina went down. And the other featuring Simon and Doric taking place at the time while Ed and Holga are in prison.

I am honest: I really, really liked the Ed and Holga novel. It was super cute and charming and really gives a better understanding of the characters.

But of course once again there is the thing: The books - just like the Pirates of the Caribbean books - were super undermarketed. Like, most people I know off do not even know that there were books released. Heck, even within the actual active fandom there are again and again people who will be surprised that those books exist.

And... I actually also think that the books waste one big ass opportunity, by not at all tying into the broader lore. They are super self-contained.

And that is actually just a waste. Because the place were Edgin lived in? Yeah, that place was super affected by the Second Sundering. Heck, that might have had to do something with his troubles.

Why is that an issue? Well, because... there was not a lot going on there that was inviting you to further interact with the world and learn more abotu what is happening. For once, again, because I think it is a super fun and interesting world. But also, because... WotC wants to make money and is so bad at it, that it really boggles my mind.

See, here is the thing: They could've used those characters - that really are fun and sympathetic characters - to create an accesspoint into that world.

Alright, so what about Baldur's Gate 3?

Which brings me to Baldur's Gate 3 and the thing that a lot of people have noticed: The other Baldur's Gate games - as well as some of the other games releasing around 2000 - had their own tie-in novels going into the characters, their background, but also what they were doing in the future.

Something that so far BG3 has not done, which some fans have already critized. Because a lot of people have actually gotten really invested into those characters. A lot of the kind of people especially who so far are underserved by a lot of the tie-in stuff: Queer and generally diverse audiences.

Like, I think there would be a lot of people, who totally would read a novel, about...

Astarion getting drawn into some sort of political intrigue in Baldur's Gate while serving Cazador

Karlach's time in Avernus

Some Adventure Wyll got dragged into while being the Blade of the Frontier.

Shadowheart going onto a mission for Shar (maybe together with Nocturne)

Whatever Gale was doing during the Second Sundering

Lae'zel's youth among the Githyanki

The Dark Urge and Gortash starting up the entire conspiracy

... whatever Halsin had been up to in his long live

Heck, people would eat that stuff up. And you could not only use it to worldbuild but also once more create some access into the world and what happened there. And they are kinda wasting a lot of potential by not bringing out those novels.

Of course, there is one big problem: BG3 makes it kinda hard to write about anything happening after the ending. Because as it is right now, someone is gonna be pissed if a novel set after the game does not go with the decision for a character they go for. Like, Ascended Astarion fans are gonna be pissed, if they go with Spawn Astarion - and the other way around. Same goes with every other character where you have those big decisions happening.

This is something they will have to tackle eventually if they plan on doing something with the characters in the future (no matter if we are talking Larian or WotC), but it is definitely an issue that just arises from the structure of the game.

Bonus of course is, that you just cannot define a canonical Tav. But without a Tav, you also gotta act as if the story of the game happened without a Tav, which still is not ideal. I am honestly not sure with how they are gonna deal with this on the long run.

Access via Characters

Alright, but what is the actual issue here?

Well, basically there are two hurdles to overcome for the accessibility of the lore. The first is the physical accessibility - aka, what I talked about in the last long blog post. The second meanwhile is more related to making the lore engaging. And that happens through characters.

It is for me what happened last year. I actually tried to engage with the lore as the movie came out - but only when BG3, that tied a lot more into the actual lore was released I actually found proper access to the lore. Because I had concrete things I could now look for because the game hinted at so much both through characters and major story events happening.

Here is the thing: If you just have the lore on its own, it is about as engaging as reading a history book. Sure, as your local history nerd I find reading history books fun, but most people really do not want to read a history book to engage with a hobby.

People will however engage with stories and characters that interest them. Which is where we get back to the thing I talked about at the beginning: Right now most canonical novels and stories still cater to an audience that is male, cishet, white and also, let's be frank, definitely over 30 years old. Leaving behind a lot of potential fans that theoretically make up a big part of the player-base, but actually do not engage a lot with the lore for this exact reason.

Look. DnD right now is fairly close to being an actual mainstream hobby, due to the recent proliferation of formerly nerdy stuff. And yet WotC is bleeding money, especially in regards of DnD.

If you ask me, sure... DnD should go into public domain. But it doesn't. And given that there are so many creative, skilled people working on this - no matter how dumb Hasbro is and how shitty of an employer they are - I actually do want them to succeed. I have really become engaged with this world now. And I think it is a pity that they clearly do not know how to market this stuff.

[drarryspecificrecsdaily]

2024.06.23

Complete fics posted on AO3 this day

1. Enduring by @mykkitno [E, 88k]

►During Yule of Harry’s fifth year, he finds something in the Chamber of Secrets that answers questions he hadn’t realized he had, but he keeps the knowledge hidden until he can’t anymore. Resorting to Dark Magic isn’t something he thought he’d do, but the changes it wrought aren’t ones he regrets because the alternative would have made things worse.

2. light as a feather, soft as a kiss by @pretentiouswreckingball [G, 1k]

►Draco never thought Harry’s face could ever look this soft, every time he has laid eyes upon Harry over the years, his jaw has always been too tight, his entire face set like stone, defiant. [...]

3. Narcissa Malfoy, Fairy Godmother by @duchessdulce [T, 81k]

►Narcissa was a pureblood supremacist. Narcissa had a Muggle friend. These things were both true. Also: It’s fifth year for Harry Potter, and Malfoy’s eleven-year-old cousin has just started at Hogwarts. When Harry begins to suspect that the girl is actually Muggleborn, he can’t rest until he finds out what Malfoy is really up to.

4. Think of Home by SpicyNoodleJun [G, 36k]

►Honestly, it was an accident. The magical artifact was warded and locked away, but one curious child managed to get to it and found himself thrown into the past. That's how Draco came to find a tiny blonde boy with emerald eyes staring up at him, the Room of Requirement having shifted into the boy's home. [...] He somehow has to figure out how to get his future son back to where he belongs. Oh, and Harry fucking Potter has to get involved, as always. Salazar, help him.

5. The Wild Rover by grace_cos_writes [M, 34k]  *typo

►Two years after the conclusion of the Second Wizarding War, Harry Potter decides to take a break from his busy life as a hero. Unexpectedly, he meets someone who, like him, is running away from a past full of horrors. A journey. A path. Two people trying to walk in the same direction for the very first time in their lives.

[draco-dormiens]

FOR ALL THAT IS RIGHT AND JUST - Flashback

auror!draco x auror!fem!slytherin reader / post-war au

warnings: strong language, angst, implied mental struggles, negative self deprecation, alcohol use, mild descriptions of wounds

wc: 2162

tags: @yeolsbubbles @send-me-styles @shinytalent @malfoylover4l

tag list open!!

masterlist

Draco's Story

Late July, 1998

"I've decided, Dray." Your voice is soft but laced with determination. He sits beside you, on the roof of his parents mansion, the window to his room just below your dangling feet, a cool night breeze licking his skin as the July heat still lingers in the air. "I'm going to become an Auror. After everything I've seen, after uncle Travers..." you pause for a long moment, staring up into the dark navy sky, dotted with glimmering white specs where, thousands and thousands of lightyears away, stars burn; big, bright, dazzling orbs, "I can't let it happen again. I can't allow other children to go through what we have, what you have. Even if it just a small change, I want to help make it."

He's silent for while. The bottle of Fire Whiskey you'd both been sipping on rests just between his knees. Bringing it to his lips, he takes a long drink before setting it back down. There are bruises on his knuckles, cuts on his arms, a nice gash to his forehead from where he'd managed to make contact with the floor outside of the Room of Requirement. If not for the boy he'd spent the last seven years envying with a seething jealousy, he would no doubt be dead. He owed Harry and his friends his life, and that, although a cold hard fact, did not settle well in the young Malfoy's stomach. He was bitter, scarred, and lost. Where did he go from here? All he had come to know, everything his parents had made him believe, was nothing but blind faith and complete ignorance.

Once a bully, preying on the weak and snarling insults at those he deemed lesser. Once a boy of great talent and expectations. Once the seeker for his house. Then a Death Eater, a coward and no better than those who tore the school to pieces.

He was no better, and he was no one. Not anymore; but he feels now, despite his prejudice over the years, that he wasn't really anyone to begin with. When the mark, that now is nothing but an ugly scar on his milky skin, was first placed upon his arm, he really had believed he was to be granted power and protection. All he had to do to bring his family glory was follow instructions. He thought he wanted this. He thought he was doing his parents proud. When he realised his misjudgment, it was far too late to change his mind.

Draco tried to murder. He tried to - but as much as he told himself it was his duty, the small flicker of who he really wanted to be started to burn a little brighter, a little hotter, until he smothered the flame and hexed Katie Bell and cast an unforgivable curse on Madame Rosmerta. Until he was face to face with his one mission, just to fail at the very last second and become the laughing stock of a group of rotten-minded wizards.

He can still hear you - sometimes in his sleep, sometimes when he wakes in the night.

"Please, just tell me what's wrong, Dray." You cried in the hallway that night, his wand tight in his grip. The sound of a happy, joyful Slug Club Christmas party was well underway further down the corridor. You, in your stunning emerald dress and diamond earrings he had gifted you the other year for your birthday, had begged him to confide in you multiple times. Daphne had written him off, Blaise and Theo told you he had changed and wasn't coming back. Pansy had a small amount of faith left, but it was fading quickly. Your sixth year was already turning out to be a monstrosity, and now the boy you would have called your very best friend had changed; he wasn't Draco anymore, he was colder, more bitter and worryingly paler. Albeit, his personality wasn't the warmest nore the most endearing to begin with, but since your childhood he had been a constant in your life.

And now he was anything but that.

"I've already told you," he says, lifeless and empty, "I don't want you getting caught up in anything. Just go back to the party, alright?"

"Why are you shutting me out?" You almost whimper, and the white knuckle grip on his wand only gets tighter, threatening to snap the wood in half. He hates this. He hates it.

But he must do it. To protect what he cares for.

"Please," he mutters helplessly, turning his head slightly to look over his shoulder at you. He fears if he looks at you fully, he might crumble into a million little pieces, "I'm trying to protect you. Let me at least do that. Please. Go back inside."

"Draco?" Your voices brings him out of his daze, his eyes landing on yours. A kindness had dwelled within them since you were children; a kindness that, even after all he's done, still shines through and touches his skin like warm sun. He stares back for a long while, not fully understanding why you still came to visit him. More than two months since the war ended, since his family faced trial after trial and escaped with their dignity hanging by a mere thread. He hadn't heard from the others; Blaise, Pansy, Goyle. Not that he particularly cared. It appeared they would have rather saved what reputation they had left than mingle with fellow betrayers like himself.

He can't say he blames them.

"Are you okay?" you ask him, brushing some of his white-blond hair from his face, "you can talk to me, you know. I'm here for you."

"Why?" he simply asks, and you almost look surprised at the question.

"Because you're still you, Dray," you whisper, a ghost of a smile at your lips, "many things have happened. I know now why you couldn't talk to me about... well, everything. But you can now, and I'm here to listen. Please, don't try and battle this on your own."

The warm summer air ruffles the hair around your familiar, comforting face. He thinks that someone up there might not think so bad of him, to keep you coming back even when he's troubled you more than anyone else. A slight smile cracks on his face, something you hadn't seen in many, many months. The sight of it almost brought you to tears.

"You know," he says quietly, "I'd have kicked my sorry ass to the curb if I were you. I haven't exactly been kind to you; or anyone, over the last few months. I've done some really fucked up shit. Yet, here you are, drinking my Dad's Fire Whiskey on the roof with me." He shuffles a little closer to you and wraps an arm around your shoulders, as you willingly accept his embrace, cuddling into his warm and familiar body. You liked to believe he was still in there, the real Draco. The one that sometimes, unknowingly, allowed you to see little glimpses into his life. He's a collector of sorts; not like his father, but in a more sentimental and valuable way. Many a time have you caught him putting a rather nice looking pebble in his pocket, thinking no one had seen him take a shine to such a trivial thing. He enjoys the piano, and although he never plays for anyone, you had caught him mid song one summer during a visit to his home. You can still hear him scold you for sneaking up on him and making you swear not to tell anyone. He reads - not your typical story books or novels, but educational books about Astrology and Alchemy. Sometimes, when you had met in the library, he'd been so invested in a book, his eyebrows pierced together and a look of pure concentration on his face, that he hadn't noticed you standing beside him until you nudged him slightly. Another scolding, but something about the way he grumbled that he was 'just passing the time because you took so long' had you convinced there was no malice in it whatsoever.

Draco never had a heart of gold. He was never a shining example of friendship, or the best at expressing his feelings, or had the best attitude towards things he found unbefitting of him. Throughout the years you had argued about his mean streak, about his nature towards certain students, but as if joined at the hip, you had remained close, and his brashness was ever so slightly tamer with you. His words weren't as sharp, or as jarring, and he often made a point of saying 'if you go, I will' or 'as long as you think so.' Despite his blooming admiration for you, he still remained a little hesitant to treat you completely different.

And he was still in there. You were sure of it. He was in there - the Draco you had come to love.

"I wouldn't be a very good friend if I did that, would I?" you say lightheartedly, and you feel him squeeze you a little tighter, "you will get passed this Draco. You will heal; inside and out, and you will go out into the world and make a good name for yourself. You will make yourself proud - it doesn't matter about anyone else. Just do what's right for you."

He ponders for a moment, stroking your hair gently, calming himself as he leans his chin on the top of your head. The world made no sense; his place in it seemed none existent, but as if a small glimmer of hope had pierced his heart, he starts imagining the future.

"Do you think they'd have me?" He then asks you, and you pull back slightly to look up at him.

"Who?" You say.

"The Aurors," he then responds, matter of fact, "do you think they'd... accept someone like me."

"You want to be an Auror?" You say excitedly, and his heart, for the first time in a very long time, begins to feel lighter at the look on your face. All this time and you're still the prettiest girl he'd ever laid his eyes on. He shrugs and looks away.

"I dunno, I was just thinking out loud," he said, fingers still playing with the ends of your hair. Then he laughs, a shallow and bitter laugh, "like they'd want me. Imagine me showing up to help someone - they'd asked for someone else. It'd be fucking joke."

"It might not be," you say in all seriousness, "why does it have to be like that? As much as you may think things are set in stone, they are not, Draco. You decide how the future goes. You decide what happens from now on. If it starts that way then change their minds. Your past does not define you. It's what you do, how you learn, that does."

"Sure you don't want to be a therapist or something?" He jokes lightly, and you giggle. Draco truly believes that something holy keeps you around a mess like him. Once Voldemort's threat was over, you were the first person at his door. The first and only person to check on him. A ray of light in the deep, dark hole he was falling into.

"I've made up my mind," your giggle comes to a holt, and you look at him with a sheer determination sparkling in your eyes, "it's time for you to do the same, Dray."

The reception he received was nothing short of foul. Minister Shacklebolt treated him the same as any other new recruit, but his fellow Auror's did not feel so welcoming. He mainly stuck by you throughout the training phase, and kept his distance from Potter and Weasley. There were whispers, odd looks and uneasy feelings, but with your guidance, he found himself at the Ministry. After the first year, he had become accustomed to people's shock once they saw him, and even more so from how tolerable he can be when he wanted. Sometimes he even made little jokes about it, and your heart soared at the difference in him. The higher ups soon discovered his talents and willingness, and his career, much like your own, began to blossom.

So, when you barge into Potter's office ten years later, raging about the travesty in the foyer, he thanks Merlin, Salazar and anyone who'll listen when you grace him with that same presence he finds himself missing like a limb when you're not around. An Auror in his own right, a gifted and talented wizard who's knowledge in Occlumency had boded well in his profession, a better man, but still the same whiny, mischievous Malfoy he's always been. He may be a dashingly handsome young man, but his childish ways, short temper and bad attitude never quite left him - and yet he's your heart and solace all the same.

Harry may have saved his life, but without a shadow of a doubt, you saved his soul.

disclaimer: i do not own harry potter or any of the characters or storyline associated with it

[mrsstruggle]

All The Good Girls Go To Hell - Prologue // Harry Potter AU

Summary: It's been a year since the war ended. Cedric Diggory is found dead and in debt to The Damnation. His sister, Y/N Diggory, offers to take her brother's place in The Damnation to pay off his debt, but things become complicated when she starts to develop feelings for the two handsome leaders.

[Wattpad]

Pairings: Y/N x Fred Weasley, Y/N Diggory x George Weasley (separately, not together because I will not write that)

Series Warnings: Language, Mentions of Death/Injury/Grief/Torture, Possible Grammar Mistakes (please let me know if there is anything else), and A Lot of Smut!!

Words: 1.5K (this is short but chapters will be longer!)

Note: This is a Harry Potter AU. This is set after the war.

Another Note: Cedric was not killed during the Triwizard Tournament, but he was tortured at the cemetery.

[I had this queued for 7PM, but it didn't post :/]

Masterlist

All The Good Girls Go To Hell Masterlist

---

Standing outside the infamous joke shop Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Y/N Diggory never felt so out of place. She has a briefcase in one hand and the other nervously tugging at the end of her short, red dress in hopes that it would somehow get longer. She needs to go inside but can't find the willpower to get her legs to move.

Kids run past her, shouting and laughing, as their parents rush after them into the shop. There are more people out than she thought there would be. She chose to come as close to closing time as possible, hoping there would only be a few people there. She wonders if it stays this crowded or if it's because the kids return to Hogwarts in a week.

"Are you actually going to go inside, or are you going to stand out here all day?" Y/N jumps slightly and quickly looks to her side to see where the voice is coming from. She locks eyes with a handsome redhead who is now standing to the left of her.

"I'm supposed to meet someone inside, but my legs seemed glued to the sidewalk for some reason." She nervously jokes.

The guy chuckles lowly. "Do I need to see if I can find something to get the glue off," he quickly retorts.

Y/N snorts out a laugh as she looks back down at the ground. She notices that he's wearing a thick, black pair of combat boots. As she looks back up at him, she observes that he doesn't look like the type of guy who would come to a joke shop. With his black tactical joggers paired with a plain black t-shirt, he seems out of place, but she knows he could say the same thing about her.

"Hopefully it will just wash away with my nerves," she brings the briefcase in front of her so she can grip the handle with both hands, "I don't know if you can tell, but I've never been here before."

He glances down at her briefcase before shifting his gaze back up, "I wouldn't say it's too obvious, but you do look a bit overdressed. What's in the briefcase?"

"It's nothing," she chuckles nervously. "Would you believe me if I said I was trying to start a new trend?"

"Not at all, but if you don't want to tell me, you don't have to. My name's Charlie, by the way."

"I'm Y/N."

"Well, I've got to get to work, but it was nice to meet you."

"Yeah, you too." Y/N watches as Charlie walks into the joke shop and disappears into the sea of children.

She takes a deep breath as she tries to remember what Hermione told her to do. She needs to go inside and get a Penelope's Purple Pussy Cats. Take it to the front counter and ask if it comes in red. She remembers that Hermione told her to specifically ask, "Does this come in red?" and she can't ask any other way.

After standing in place for a few more seconds, Y/N finally wills her legs to move and opens the large entrance door. If she thought the sound of children screaming and laughing was loud from outside the shop, it was even louder inside. Kids were running around—going from stand to stand—checking out whatever caught their eye. You would think it was the shop's opening day, but it's been open for years.

Y/N moves to the side as a group of boys runs past her towards the back of the store. She looks around, hoping to see what she's looking for, but there are too many people in the store to see anything else other than people. Right now, she's cursing Hermione for not giving her instructions for where the hell to find a Penelope's Purple Pussy Cats.

She slowly weaves her way through the crowd as she searches for what she's looking for. She can feel her nerves get more and more on edge as people bump into the briefcase she's holding.

After walking around the store for another ten minutes, she finally spots what she needs. Tucked into a corner of the store, behind what appears to be love potions, she finds the Penelope's Purple Pussy Cats. Y/N grabs the box closest to her and makes her way to the checkout.

As she approaches the checkout, she silently thanks the universe for there not being a line. She quietly approaches the blonde girl standing at the checkout and sets the Penelope's Purple Pussy Cats on the table, "Um...does this come in red?"

Y/N's heart starts to race as the girl stares at her silently. Did she say the wrong thing? Is this one big prank to make her look like an idiot?

The girl, Verity (according to her name tag), entered something in the cash register before turning back to her, "Three Galleons."

Y/N quickly dugs into the purse that is hanging from her left shoulder. She slams three Galleons onto the counter, wincing at how harshly she set them down.

Verity slowly scoops up the Galleons and puts them into the register. She closes the register as her other hand dings a bell right next to it. The ding rings loudly throughout the store.

Y/N's hands tap nervously on the briefcase's handle as she waits for something to happen. Hermione told her that someone would come and take her to where she needed to go, but is she supposed to stand here and wait, or is she supposed to step aside somewhere?

"Bill will take you to find what you need," Verity says as a tall redhead—who, other than the large scars across his face, looks like the one she met earlier—emerges from the sea of people around the store. He stops when he's next to Y/N.

"Follow me," he says gruffly. He turns and starts walking toward the back of the store. Y/N tries to follow as closely as she can so she doesn't lose him amongst the crowd.

As they reach the back of the store, Bill opens a door with a sign that says 'EMPLOYEES ONLY' and gestures for her to follow him inside. Walking inside what appears to be a large storage closet, she watches as he easily moves a large shipping crate labeled 'FRAGILE' to reveal a trapdoor on the floor.

As he opens the trapdoor, Y/N can hear loud music and see flashing lights coming from the now-open hole in the floor. Looking a little closer, she can see an enclosed stone staircase that seems to spiral down into somewhere unknown. She looks up to see Bill looking at her expectantly—like she was supposed to just be okay with walking down into an unknown place underneath a joke shop.

"Are you going to go in?" Bill asks her.

"Yeah, obviously..." she looks back and forth from him to the staircase nervously, "Are Fred and George down there? If so, how do I find them?"

Bill's face somehow turns more serious than before, "What do you need with Fred and George?" He glances down at the briefcase in her hand before looking back at her face.

"I need to speak with them," she replies, straightening her posture a little to look more confident.

"About what?"

"That's none of your business."

Bill sighs, "Look, I don't know what you want from them, but they don't like to mix business with pleasure. If you need to speak to them about business, you'll need to make an appointment with Verity. If you need to speak with them about something else," he looks her up and down, "you should be able to find them quite easily. Just don't come back crying when they don't see you again."

Y/N scoffs in disgust, "I'm here to talk business, and I won't be making an appointment. It's important."

"If it's so important, why can't you tell me?"

"Why would I tell you?"

"I'm their brother, and I'm the one holding this door open for you. I can easily close it if I'd like."

Y/N sighs as she contemplates what to do. Does she tell him why she's here? Does she turn around and come back another time? She doesn't know how many people know about her brother's involvement with the twins or about what he did.

"I need to talk to them about Cedric Diggory," she says, trying to look as serious as possible. Y/N notices Bill's jaw clench in anger when she says Cedric's name.

"What about Cedric?"

"I'm here to pay off his debt."

Bill scoffs, "What? He decides not to show up today and sends some girl in to pay off his debt for him. It's going to take a lot more than whatever's in that briefcase to make up for what he did."

"Well, considering he's never going to show back up again, this is the best they're going to get." Y/N shrugs.

"What does that mean?"

"He's dead. Cedric's dead."

---

@xxemmarldxx @esposadomd @ladyjenjay

[sitp-recs]

do you have a fic rec where harry healed his trauma and then he met draco who still feel so shameful about himself, so then harry helps draco to heal his war trauma? thanks in advance! 💓

Hi anon, what a great ask! I love the idea of them bonding over shared trauma, and I think the best fics exploring this theme are the ones showing that healing is in fact an ongoing (and often non-linear) process, in this sense they’re always healing together 🥹 here are some fics that came to mind, most are down & out Draco but not all of them. Enjoy!

Slow Hands by eleventy7 (T, 10k)

Blood, shadows, and paper hearts. The Shadow hunts students, but Draco Malfoy most of all.

Rebuilding Draco Malfoy by khasael (E, 11k)

Draco wants to do something to get his life back on track, but no-one seems to be taking him seriously – until he finds himself in an Auror training session led by Harry Potter.

Said and Unsaid (or, The Value of Knowing When to Stop Talking) by bryoneybrynn (T, 15k)

When the Interrogator asked if he had anything to say on his own behalf, Draco shook his head, his lips pressed tight in a thin line. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t sound like an excuse.

The Years That Walk Between by Femme (E, 16k) - past Draco/Snape

Draco finds his way after the war.

Between Myth and Man by slytherco (E, 16k)

Draco, lost and a little broken, navigates post-war reality convinced that people like him should not be allowed to make their own choices. To solve the problem of his self-sabotaging tendencies, he starts taking a few drops of Veritaserum every morning.

Benevolence and Redemption by silvered_glass (M, 19k)

Draco's the most unlikely Auror recruited to the department in at least three centuries. Ostracised and unwanted, he's been on paperwork duties for the three years since he finished training. Harry is the Saviour of the Wizarding World with nice forearms and too-large hands who suddenly starts turning up in the Ministry gym when Draco’s there, and sitting on Draco’s desk, and asking for Draco’s assistance on cases.

Vale Sanare by RurouniHime (M, 23k)

Draco’s world gains a new component just when he thought he’d sorted everything out.

Strange Bedfellows by ravenclawsquill (E, 30k)

When Harry encounters a frail and fidgety Draco Malfoy at the Ministry, he just knows something is wrong and he’s determined to get to the bottom of it. A story about Deadly Nightshade, crippling insomnia, excellent wine … and finding what you need in the strangest of circumstances.

Open For Repairs by FeelsForBreakfast (M, 5k)

After the war, Draco works at a tv repair shop and Harry breaks things. feat. sad boys in jumpers and more ABBA than is probably necessary

As Souls From Bodies Steal by Femme (E, 41k)

Hope may be found in the oddest of places, even in the bleakness of winter.

(We'll Call This Fixer-Upper) Home by @phdmama (E, 52k)

Draco Malfoy hasn’t set foot on English soil in ten years. After the war, he fled to America, where he found himself in a community, and healed himself through following his heart into music. He’s now the lead singer and songwriter for an internationally known band, who have come back to headline the Wiltshire Music Festival. But as Draco is about to learn, his past isn’t as far away as he might have believed, and his future may hold more than he ever could have dreamed.

Super Rich Kids by trishjames (E, 81k)

Draco Malfoy has become disillusioned by the glitz and glamour of the scandalous lives of the Post-Second Wizarding War Pureblood Elite. Enter: one existential crisis, one group of thieving cynical friends, and several terrible, terrible decisions.

At Your Service by Faith Wood (E, 95k)

Hogwarts students are in danger; Harry is determined to save them all. There's only one thing he knows for certain: Draco Malfoy is somehow involved.

Nor All That Glisters by @sweet-s0rr0w (E, 110k)

Lonely and frustrated on house arrest, with no prospects for the future, Draco begins brewing Felix Felicis in an attempt to improve his lot. Just in the short term, of course. He isn’t a total idiot.

All Life is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl (M, 114k)

Professor Malfoy's world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

[ravenwoodalum]

on karamelle, why it sucks, and redeeming azteca's reputation.

I just got to Karamelle for the second time, and good lord. I hadn't forgotten how much I hated it, but it hit me like a wall of bricks. And I'm already preparing myself to marathon it and be fucking done questing here for at least a year.

I think it breaks down like this.

Baby's first workers rights movement/sugary-sweet surveillance state Listen. I know this is a game that doesn't allow for player characters to have much individual impact on the in-game narrative. I know we've had to do errands for cops. I know we work for a war criminal. I KNOW there are flaws in the system. But there's something about the way that Karamelle's set up that makes it all feel so. much. worse. And that's the fact that Karamelle has such a stellar reputation within the Spiral before this. The happiest place in the Spiral, the sweetest treats in the Spiral. Everyone seems to fucking love this place. Almost no one outside of those actually working there seem to understand how corrupt it is. And so the YW is talked down to at every turn, like this is their first exposure to a corrupt environment. And sure, maybe it is within, canon. YW gets isekai'd at a very young age and then made into a child soldier, maybe this is actually the first time in canon that they've been introduced to these concepts. But (and this may just be me) it feels really rude to the player -- who might actually have experience with these ideas -- to make them feel like a fucking idiot with the dialogue options. Karamelle's characters just feel rude.

Oh, so the Gobblers were a fatphobic, Roald Dahl type thing from the start. Cool cool cool. Any of you ever read Roald Dahl's book "The Twits"? It's a very unremarkable story all things considered, except for this bit.

Aside from Roald Dahl's unavoidable history of antisemitism, does this remind you of anything? Honestly, this reminds me of the Gobbblers.

We first meet the Gobblers around level 10 in Wizard City -- creatures driven by consumption. And then we get to Empyrea and hear that the Alphoi -- skinny "civilized" creatures -- can become Gobblers if they eat too much or are unhealthy in their eating habits. Which makes one of our oldest running enemies a loop-around fatphobic thing, ESPECIALLY when we get to them in Karamelle, the home world of the Gobblers. Rosina, especially, just oozes fatphobia and diet culture. The literal vilification of being fat isn't even subtext, it's just text.

The Old One, The Cabal, and what to do when your escape from the world ends up shoving what you were escaping from right back in your face. When I was in sophomore year of college, fall of 2019, I had one of the worst mental health periods of my life. Antisemitism was fucking everywhere, I was always a moment away from a panic attack, and it felt like no one understood. While I'm lucky in the fact that I was able to get an official diagnosis for genetically inherited PTSD, alongside the reassurance that I wasn't fucking crazy, there was a period when I just needed to go home for a moment. So when I was going back to my dorm from the dining hall to make sure all my stuff was ready to go, I opened up tumblr and made a post on a long-gone RP sideblog I had for the Swedish Chef (y'know, from The Muppets? long story), and before I'd even gotten halfway across campus, I'd received threatening and violent messages from someone RPing as Borat, which only got worse when they realized they were talking to an actual Jewish person.

That escape from reality didn't even last five fucking minutes before the horrors I was trying to avoid found me.

Now, Wizard101 has always been a source of comfort for me. I made my account fourteen years ago, and I do not know what my life would look like if I hadn't done that. There are flaws with this game, yes, sure, but over the past five years (since I got a wiz compatible laptop) I've developed a bit of a reliance on it to get me through the horrors. No better form of escapism.

But no art form is free of the horrors.

And Wizard101 has the fucking Cabal and Old One.

The Cabal within the fiction of Wizard101 is a secret, nefarious organization pulling the strings on events across the Spiral, controlling history from the shadows. This term literally originates in antisemitic conspiracy theory, with the term 'cabal' originating from the term for Jewish mysticism, 'kabbalah'. And I promise you, you've heard plenty of applications of this conspiracy theory in real life too. It feeds into the idea that Jews (or 'global elite') control the government, the media, the banks.

And then, we get to the man in control of it all. The Old One. Whether or not this was intended, he's a walking, talking antisemitic caricature. The octopus as a symbol for the mythical Elders of Zion is a longstanding dogwhistle (see attached for a guide to this and many other visual dogwhistles). "Oh, he's based on H.P. Lovecraft-" So he's based on the works of a famous racist and antisemite, cool cool cool.

It's just exhausting, walking through a world that is so clearly modeled after Germany and other parts of eastern Europe, and finding antisemitism around every corner. And even more exhausting considering it's almost impossible to tell if they meant to do it. Antisemitism is so fucking ingrained in the world at this point that I don't actually know what they meant to do here, what they did maliciously or out of ignorance, or if any of it was put in with the purpose of turning it on its head. Over the past few years, it has become glaringly obvious that a lot of people don't realize when they're running across antisemitism, or even taking part in it. Including people I really thought would know better.

Side note. For those of you who know I see Dasein as Jewish, you may be wondering how I balance that out with the antisemitic nature of The Old One, since they share a physical form. I think of it like this. Dasein did not choose The Old One. He did not choose to resemble that, but he can attempt to reclaim it. Dasein's Judaism comes not from the resemblance he holds to the hatred that haunts us, but from the love that keeps us going. He questions authority and longstanding tradition, chooses to do what's right instead of what's expected, and is kind in the face of hatred. He literally makes himself, and a world, out of nothingness. Something out of Nothing. He's so Jewish you guys.

The Spiral's "Worst World Award" goes to... I know we all say "fuck Azteca" pretty often on this website, but I don't think it deserves to be deigned the worst world in Wiz. My main gripe with Azteca is how inaccessible it gets after Xibalba strikes -- the flashing lights aren't exactly photosensitive friendly. Which further lends frustration to my completionist nature, meaning I have to finish all quests, badges, and fishing before I finish the world (making it take forever to finish). Aside from that, there really isn't that much wrong with the world (and if you argue that it sucks because you can't save Azteca, I get it, but some tragedies are inescapable by their very nature). It's a problem of gameplay, versus a problem of plot in the case of Karamelle. And maybe its just because I'm a writer, but problems with plot feel much more egregious. I really do think Karamelle deserves more vitriol than it gets.

G-d, I can't wait to get to Lemuria.

[greenerteacups]

Until your most recent chapter I didn't really stop to consider Molly Weasley's role in the first war. She had a baby, 2 toddlers and 3 kids to take care of, plus the house. I imagine she was the one preparing meals for the Order and tending to the wounded, since she seems pretty good with healing charms. It's a side of war that people don't really talk about, right?

What do you think were James and Lily's roles in the war? Either in canon or Lionheart is fine. Also, if you have the time and the will, I'd love to hear what you think about the while blood magic thing Lily did for Harry. Cause we don't really see this type of magic in canon, jkr was really vague about it, and since your Pansy seems to know quite a bit of blood Magic I was curious to know if they work in similar ways in your canon. It doesn't seeem like they teach this kind of thing in Hogwarts' normal curriculum, and to know that Lily Evans was possibly an feral muggle-born toying with dark magic fascinates me. Like, did Snape introduced it to her? The recent talk Draco had with his mother about cruel spells not always being dark magic and vice versa was really interesting and got me in my current state of rambling

This dovetails wonderfully on the heels of my last post about Molly Weasley, so I'll pick it up here! Molly is absolutely at the center of the Order's efforts in both the First and Second Wizarding Wars, and her role as a mother is indivisible from her role as a soldier. Bill is 7 or 8 when the first war begins, which means Charlie's 5-6, and Percy is around 2. You can only imagine the frustration for her — that's an age where someone really needs to be around the house, but at the same time, everyone you know is going off to fight. And like— oh—

Did you ever think that Molly probably had to sit through the battle where her brothers died? That's a thought that just occurred to me. Set aside what happened to Lily and James, or even Frank and Alice; Molly wasn't an only child until the war. Bill was old enough to know his uncles. Charlie was, too. And hey — do you think she had the twins before or after her twin brothers died? Which do you think is worse?

Anyway. I think James and Lily joined the war effort immediately, considering how short the timeline is after they graduate => marriage => baby Harry => Trelawney's prophecy. In Lionheart, Moody mentions that "Evans was 16 when she came to me," which I meant to acknowledge that students were (and are! cf. Cedric and Angelina) trying to get involved with the war before they graduated. Moody and Molly are of different philosophies on this, but it's implied that Moody accepted Lily's offer, because of Molly's remark about "forgiveness" — which is obviously a bit vague, but the implicit accusation is that the Potters wouldn't have died if they hadn't been soldiers. Of course, we know that's not actually true (my spin on this particular part of canon will be fully fleshed-out in the story, but as you can probably guess, James and Lily aren't random kills). But Molly doesn't know that, so in her mind, there's a straight line between Moody accepting Lily's offer and Harry being orphaned.

James and Lily, while by all accounts quite competent, are not actually described as being that powerful in canon. Becoming an animagus at such a young age obviously requires James to be an unusually clever and/or motivated kid, and I have no trouble believing that he was one of the most naturally talented wizards in his year, but he also reads as a bit of a lazy jackass in the one(!) scene we ever get. The person who vouches for his offstage character growth — Sirius — is frankly a bit of a jackass himself. To be clear, I'm not denying the James Potter Redemption Arc. I have great affection for James as this jackass jock who gets walloped off his pedestal by one Lily Evans, and then cobbles together a decent personality from spit and elbow-grease. I just don't think he's a mind-blowing secret agent or anything. In Mad-Eye's view, it would make most sense to put James somewhere behind the front lines, where he can learn from the seasoned Aurors. Same with Lily, too.

Which is good, in my opinion. It's important to the thematic tissue of Harry Potter that James and Lily are ordinary people — extraordinary in the hearts and memories of the people who loved them, extraordinary in courage and resilience, but not especially magical or gifted beyond the range of what normal people in this universe could achieve. That isn't to say that Lily didn't do anything remarkable on October 31, 1981; she did. But I have always liked how canon left them ordinary soldiers, who were betrayed and slaughtered by an accident of fate; in another world, it could have been the Longbottoms, or it could have been no one.

[space-writes]

hello (again) writeblr! i decided to make a new intro that has all my current wips on it, since i have way more than when i first started out on here.

about me

I go by Space, my pronouns are they/he, and I’m in my third decade of existence, which is absolutely wild. I’ve been writing for most of it, so I like to think I’m pretty decent

I write mostly fantasy and erotica (sometimes at the same time), both original and fanfiction, and all of it's queer

You can find my work on my AO3 here, crossposted to my neocities here, and under my snippets tag

I’m open to tag and ask games, and my inbox is currently open to anything as well. I don’t always reply the fastest, but I’ll get to it eventually! (I don’t take part in chain asks, so please don’t send me them)

I use obsidian.md for all my writing, and it’s my favourite notes app ever, so I also talk about that occasionally. The tag for it is here, and I’m hoping to write some more showcases/tutorials this year!

my main goal is to actually finish some damn books and also to inflict my OC brainrot upon people. so far the second one is the only thing that’s actually happened, but i live in hope

My current wips are Chronicles of Valloroth (Renegade Prince being book one), Obedience, Obsession, and claws—summaries and links for all four are under the cut!

this is my writing sideblog, you can find my main @thespacelizard, and i follow/like from there

tag directory is here

current wips

Chronicles of Valloroth

⚔ Genre: Fantasy Adventure

⚔ Features: Queer cast, found family, A Whole Entire Dragon, magical mishaps, The Mere Concept of Doing The Right Thing, a grumpy assassin, a sparkly mercenary, knock-off tieflings, a handsome prince (he’s gay), more banter than your average dungeons and dragons campaign

⚔ Status: Book One: First draft completed, re-drafting in-progress || Books Two & Three: outlined

⚔ One Sentence Summary (Book One): A runaway prince seeks freedom in a new world and must find a way to convince a rag-tag group to defeat an ancient dragon, all whilst he is being hunted by a band of mercenaries and an infamous assassin.

⚔ Series Tag: valloroth blogging

claws

🩸 Genre: Queer Horror

🩸 Features: teacher/student relationship (university edition), toxic romance, gender fuckery, broken identity, demonology, murder, self-harm, obsession, stalking, infidelity, a lot of blood, pact-based magic system, corruption, jealousy, eldritch entities, love is a wound, body horror, attempted suicide, and a little bit of arachnophilia

🩸 Status: First draft complete!

🩸 One Sentence Summary: A young student’s obsession with his demonology teacher sparks a twisted romance that draws him to the limits of his humanity—and into the web of an eldritch horror.

🩸 Series Tag: wip: claws

Obedience

💜 Genre: Erotic Romance, D&D fanfiction (original characters, Forgotten Realms setting & loose 5E ruleset)

💜 Features: a variety of BDSM scenarios, one closed off wizard dom, one enthusiastic nerdy sub, weird uses for dnd spells, a painful amount of pining, somehow; worldbuilding, emotional slow burn, as much self indulgence as I can possibly fit in a fanfic series

💜 Status: Arcs 1-3 are complete (read on AO3 here, or my neocities here). The first book of Arc 4, The Perils of Wanting is currently being posted bi-monthly here. The second book of Arc 4, A Question of Trust, is on its second draft.

💜 One Sentence Summary: A D/s M/M series featuring two wizard boys, the kinky magic they get up to, and the feelings they definitely don’t have for each other.

💜 Series Tag: obedience fic blogging (it began on my main, so the tag there has more snippets)

Obsession

🕷 Genre: War of the Spider Queen/Forgotten Realms fanfiction, also Erotica, Horror and a smidge of Dark Romance

🕷 Features: OC/canon, a nightmare transmasc wizard boy, obsession, stalking, jealousy, violent impulses, dubious consent, possessiveness, evil gender dysphoria, incest, gore, the inherent horror of Having a Body, and occasionally actual school things happening at Sorcere

🕷 Status: Ongoing serial, which you can read on AO3 here, or my neocities here

🕷 One Sentence Summary: Pharaun Mizzrym is everything to Vizaeth Thaezyr. He’ll do anything for him—even if Pharaun doesn’t know it yet.

🕷 Series Tag: obsession fic blogging (it also began on my main, so check the tag there for additional content!)

[dreamcubed]

london boy | fred weasley x reader

song; london boy [taylor swift] pairing; fred weasley x fem!american!thunderbird!reader genre; s2l, fluff word count; 3,1k timeline; post-second wizarding war au (fred lives) warnings; swearing, alcohol consumption summary; after taking the plunge and moving across the world, you are unsure of how to form a new social circle and support system. it appears there was no need to worry, as you soon meet a charming man who runs a joke shop with his twin brother

a/n; this was actually suggested by an anon! sorry it took a couple months to write

masterlist

"babe, don't threaten me with a good time."

———————————————

The Second Wizarding War, while primarily occurring in battles throughout the United Kingdom, was something that had put the global wizarding world at stake. The United States were no exception, and as a recent graduate of Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you decided to wander across the pond to the country where the liberty of witches and wizards was saved. That, and you had no other plans for the course of your life.

You worked for the first year after your graduation in order to save up money for the move, but you were pleased to say you had finally stepped foot in England: specifically, Diagon Alley.

It was where you had managed to rent a small flat from, as arranged thanks to your mother having connections in the area as a result of her travels back in the day. You were beyond excited to meet new people and settle into a new life.

But you did need a job.

Your savings would suffice for a few months, which would hopefully give you sufficient time to secure an income - key word, hopefully. First on the agenda, however, was exploring your new local area to see if you could make new friends early doors.

And so you found yourself stood outside a completely buzzing joke shop, after visiting the local bakery and book shop. The name of shop was written in gold: Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Chadwick, that was a tongue twister - fitting, you supposed.

You pushed open the door to be greeted by both the bell tinkling above you and the sound of laughing children (and even adults) in all corners of the establishment. A smile pulled its way on to your face as you began walking towards the nearest display table, covered in enchanted prank items. You picked up what appeared to be a normal whoopie cushion, and began examining it.

"Looks normal, but is in fact quite the opposite," a British voice in your left ear caught you off guard, making you quickly turn to be greeted by a tall ginger-haired man, "First of all, it camouflages once it's set down, so anyone who's smart enough to check their seats before sitting down can't catch you out."

You stared blankly at the man.

"Second, it doesn't just make a fart sound, it produces the whole package," he grinned, "A hyper realistic fart smell - and even a greenish smoke if the person sits down with a lot of force."

You came to your senses and smiled, putting the cushion delicately back down. "I'm guessing you're Weasley?"

"One of them," he nodded, "There's two others - one of them fresh out of Hogwarts."

You hummed.

"And I was gonna ask why I don't recognise you from school, but I think your accent gives me the answer."

"Yep, I'm an Ilvermorny grad."

"First time in Britain?"

You nodded, "So far, I love it."

He grimaced, "Depends where you go, Diagon Alley gives you an idealistic impression. How long you here for?"

"Indefinitely."

"Oh?" he quirked an eyebrow, "You're living here?"

"As of today," you smiled, "Y/N. Y/N L/N."

"Fred Weasley," he replied, "Allow me to be your first friend in this foreign country."

You giggled at his feigned poshness.

"What are your plans for work?" he asked, beginning to walk away. Instinctively, you began following him.

You shrugged, "I don't know. Haven't thought that far ahead."

"Oh?"

"I have some money saved while I settle in and find a job."

"That's good," he nodded.

"Have you always wanted to run a joke shop?" you asked.

"Oh, yeah. Always," he said with a smile, "Me and my twin brother, George, have loved pranks since we were kids."

You raised an eyebrow, "Twin?"

"Identical - well, used to be. He has a missing ear now so no one ever mixes us up anymore. Sad, really."

You didn't have to ask how he lost the ear.

"Our younger brother, Ron, decided to join us too. Although I don't think it's a childhood dream of his."

"How many siblings do you have?"

"Six."

Your eyes widened, "Six?"

"Five brothers, one sister."

"Your poor sister."

"Well, she's not doing too bad for herself. She's just starting her quidditch career and she's dating none other than Harry Potter so," he shrugged.

"You know Harry Potter?"

He laughed, "Well, I went to school with him, so yeah. Although I suppose I am a bit closer than normal as Ron's his best mate and my sister's dating him. He actually helped fund the start of this very establishment."

"That's cool."

Fred beamed at you, "Wanna grab a coffee after my shift?"

***

"So, yeah, that's how I ended up losing my virginity to a no-maj," you finished off, sipping on your piccolo, "Poor guy doesn't know he lost his to a witch."

"How do you know it was his first time?" Fred chuckled, sat opposite you, having been intently listening to the story.

"Because he started crying afterwards saying how God was never gonna forgive him for not saving himself for marriage," you said through stifled laughter.

By this point, Fred was practically cackling.

"Honestly, I took it as a compliment. I'm sexy enough to get a guy to suspend his beliefs for a couple hours."

"Not surprised about that," he gave the slightest of smirks to you.

You stopped laughing, suddenly feeling flushed and embarrassed.

"You told a guy you just met how you lost your virginity and only now you get shy?"

You scoffed, "I didn't realise there were rules around when I'm allowed to get shy."

Fred shrugged, "There should be- by that I mean, you should have to do it more. You're cute when you're shy."

You couldn't help your lips from stretching into a grin.

"Oh, shit, is that the time?"

"What?"

"I agreed to meet some of my brothers and friends for drinks at the Leaky Cauldron."

"Oh-"

"Wanna come?" he quickly asked.

You frowned, "I don't wanna intrude."

"Don't be silly, I grew up on a 'the more, the merrier' policy."

"Well, if you're sure- fuck it."

***

"Fred, there you are!" a voice rang out from the bar, where a group of guys were gathered.

"Where you been, mate?" a man identical to Fred (save for a missing ear) said.

"If you'd been at the shop today, you'd know."

George, the name you remembered from Fred's many stories, laughed, "I'm just teasing. Ron told me," he nodded his head towards one of the other ginger men in the group. That was when he turned to look at you. "So, you're the mysterious lady Freddie disappeared off with."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Y/N."

"Ooh, accent!" the man who had initially called out to you both said.

"Alright, alright. Y/N, that's Lee there, this is my twin, George- obviously. Over there is Ron, Wood, and one of my older brothers, Bill."

They all greeted you.

"So, where in America you from?" Bill asked.

***

Some way, some how, many firewhiskeys later you found yourself laughing your ass off with a bunch of guys you had only met a few hours ago. You were drunker than the rest of them, that was for sure, as despite US drinking laws not having stopped you from drinking to drunkenness before, they still meant you had had less opportunity to do so. Thus, your tolerance wasn't good.

At some point during the evening, your group had migrated from the bar to a larger table in the corner, where you sat with Fred's arm around you.

"Oh, come on, Ron, you have to admit it's a little ironic that your girlfriend is on her way to be the next Minister of Magic meanwhile you run a joke shop," George said through wheezes.

Ron's expression suddenly went solemn, "How could you say that to me?"

Everyone went silent for a few moments, until Ron erupted in laughter again with everyone else swiftly following. You found it even funnier that the jokes weren't actually funny anymore: you all were just plastered.

As the laughter died down again, you turned to Fred at your side, "I like your friends."

"Better not like 'em more than me," he said, "I know it's only been a day but I'd like to think I've already called dibs on you."

"Called dibs on me?"

"Yeah, well, dibs on being the first British guy you date."

You grinned, "That's up to you to make it happen, London boy."

"I'm not even from London," he retorted.

"Eh, tomato, tomato."

***

How things ended up well past midnight with you stumbling down Diagon Alley, a red headed man helping support your weight, and an unhealthy amount of alcohol in your system - you didn't know. All you knew is that you had learned so much about the man in the last several hours that you felt very comfortable with him.

"Okay, love, is this your flat?"

"Yeah, that's the one," you slurred, moving towards the stairs that led up the side.

"Woah, hold up there, pretty girl," he said, quickly aiding you so you didn't trip and break your face, "You shoulda told us you were a lightweight. We wouldn'ta ordered you so many."

You grumbled, but didn't say anything in response, instead fumbling around in your pockets for your keys.

"Fred, I can't find them," you whined.

He pulled out his wand, "Alohamora." The door clicked open. "I see you haven't put an anti-unlocking charm on your flat yet."

"I literally just moved in."

"I feel like it's a first priority."

You didn't reply, instead tumbling forward into your new small home. Again, Fred steadied your weight, chuckling to himself in the process.

"You need to get to bed."

After helping you get your shoes off, Fred walked you to your bedroom and watched in amusement as you collapsed on to the mattress.

"You all good from here, sweetheart?"

You hummed softly, "Thank you, Freddie."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, "If you're not too hungover, stop by the shop tomorrow. I can set you up with a job."

"Really?"

"Of course. I have a sneaky feeling you're gonna be in my life for a while."

You giggled, "Me too."

"Alright, I'll see you. Take care."

"You too-" you yawned, "-Freddie."

***

It was mid-afternoon by the time you made it to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, still nursing a hangover but feeling better after a long shower, a painkilling potion and a big glass of a fizzy non-alcoholic drink.

"Oh, good, you're here," Fred opened the door, seeing as the shop was in fact shut. They functioned on weekend days of Monday and Tuesday since Saturday and Sunday were prime business days. (Apart from in the lead up to school starting again, as George explained in detail to you the night prior how they couldn't miss out on any day of the week when Diagon Alley was swarmed with kids.)

"You seem perkier than me," you grumbled, entering the unusually quiet store.

"I didn't get nearly as drunk as you," he reminded, walking towards the back room, "Anyway, I assume you're here for the job?"

You nodded, "That... and to see you."

He gave you a soft smile at that, "You're always welcome."

"You literally met me yesterday."

"What? Were you too drunk to remember what I said last night?"

You suppressed a smile, "No."

"Then you know. Call it divine intuition if you will but you're gonna be around for a while."

"I certainly don't plan on leaving," you replied, following him into the office area.

"Well, let's set you up for a job here then."

"It's really nice of you to do this."

He winked at you, "I don't do favours for free."

"What do you want in return?" you narrowed your eyes at him.

"Another date."

You grinned, "I think I could agree to those terms."

***

Not even a week later, you and Fred were walking down Diagon Alley, ready to go out for lunch for your second date. An hour ago, the sun had been shining brightly in the sky, warming your exposed skin. Now, the shimmery blues had been veiled by a thick layer of dark grey clouds, casting a shadow over the bustling street. You heard Fred, a normally cheerfully optimistic man (as you had quickly learned), let out a sigh.

"Looks like the forecast has taken a turn," just as he finished his sentence, droplets began cascading down from above, growing in intensity by the second.

You couldn't help but giggle slightly.

"Doesn't this bother you?"

You laughed harder, "No. I like it."

Fred smiled at you, "Really? A rainy date?"

You shrugged, "Don't threaten me with a good time."

"Well, okay, then."

He held out his hand to you, and you took it, letting him twirl you around before you both continued walking in the direction of the café he had in mind.

"Your smile is so pretty," he commented after some moments of delicate silence.

You couldn't help but beam at his words, "Really?"

He hummed, "I could look at it for the rest of my life."

In your chest, your heart was performing somersaults like a circus acrobat, and it was making you feel giddy. This was the most alive you had ever felt and you never wanted to let it go.

"Do it then," you replied, "Nothing's stopping you."

He stopped in his tracks, forcing you to halt as well since your hand remained interlocked with his.

"What?" you asked, looking back at him from your position one step forward.

"Can I?" he spoke with a soft gaze, the usual mischievous glint absent.

"Can you what?"

"Look at your smile forever?"

You shrugged limply, "If you can make me smile forever, sure."

"Can I say something crazy?"

"I would expect nothing less from you."

"I kinda want to marry you."

"Kinda?" you raised an eyebrow, feeling the swarm of butterflies spinning in your stomach but remaining calm and collected on the outside.

"I know we only met a week ago, but what would you say if I asked?"

"Guess you'll have to learn the hard way," you gave him a cheeky grin.

"Okay," he said, and it was only then you realised that the rain had caused the street to clear out of most people. Your eyes widened as he got down on one knee, still holding your hand. Suddenly, you could no longer feel your wet hair clinging to your face, nor your damp clothes sticking to your skin. Not because they had dried, but because all your focus was elsewhere.

You were pretty sure you had forgotten how to breathe.

"Y/N, in the short time I've known you, which is admittedly very short, I have had so much fun," he began, "And as I said right at the beginning, I have a feeling that you're gonna be around a while, it's why I even came over to talk to you the first time you entered my shop- I felt drawn to you. And, well, I'm known for my impulsive decisions, but they've all worked out so far, so, I have no reason not to act on this one too," he took a deep breath, "I don't have a ring right now, but will you marry me?"

You stood, stunned. You hadn't thought he would actually propose to you.

"Don't feel pressured to say yes," he quickly added, making you snap out of your daze.

You shook your head, "Yes- I'll marry you, Freddie."

The man's face lit up as he zoomed to his feet and picked you up, spinning you around as your lips touched each other's for the first time. You couldn't believe it: Fred Weasley was now your fiancé, when he was never even your boyfriend.

"Now, what say we go get some food to celebrate?" he asked.

"Sounds good to me."

***

THREE YEARS LATER.

***

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the officiator called out, "You may kiss the bride."

You watched from the crowd as Ron pressed his lips to Hermione's, joining the rest of the audience with the applauding.

"This is a lot grander than our wedding," Fred leaned down to whisper in your ear.

You laughed gently, "Ours was a much more last minute affair, Freddie."

"Mm, how long was our engagement again?"

"Three weeks," you reminded, "The courting only lasted a week too."

"What can I say? I'm a man who knows what I want."

You shook your head with a smile, picking up the applause again as Hermione and Ron began posing for photos from the photographer.

"Oh, they're calling us up now," Fred said, grabbing your hand and pulling you up to the altar with him. All of the Weasley siblings and their partners were also en route to where the newly weds were.

As you took your position in the photograph with Fred's arm wrapped around you, he leaned down to whisper in your ear yet again.

"Can I just say, my love, you look absolutely gorgeous- as always."

Your bright smile was one of the most genuine in the photograph, as Hermione later commented, and in response to that Fred had immediately taken a copy for your own house.

"What?" he had said when you raised an eyebrow at him, "I told you, I want to stare at your smile forever."

You chuckled.

"And you said I can, provided I make you smile."

You hummed, recalling the conversation that led up to his impromptu proposal fondly.

"And correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm the one that made you smile in this photo."

Unable to argue with him, you gazed at the moving photograph of Fred turning his head away from your ear to smile at the camera. It hadn't quite captured the moment in which he complimented your looks, but it didn't need to, as you knew that you would never forget the context for the image.

Not when your smile really did shine so brightly in it.

—————————————————

masterlist

written; 19/04/2023 —> 31/05/2023 published; 31/05/2023 edited; —/—/——

taglist ; @workinatdapyramid @iluvweasleys​

[mimilind]

A Magical Classmate (Complete)

Summary: Regretting his past actions, Draco Malfoy hides incognito at a Swedish muggle university. You are intrigued by the mysterious new student. What is his secret?

– A sweet, short story with a sprinkle of light angst, written because everyone deserves a second chance.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Muggle Reader (no specified gender)

Links to Full Story:

AO3: A Magical Classmate

Wattpad: A Magical Classmate

Tumblr Links: [ 1. The New Student ] [ 2. Lab Partner and Party Protector ] [ 3. Circle of Friends ] [ 4. The Morning After ] [ 5. Classical Music and Dancing ] [ 6. A Magical Date ] [ 7. Draco the Death Eater ] [ 8. A Wizard and a Muggle ]

Rating: T

Complete Word Count: 21 800

Tags: University setting, Good Draco Malfoy, Post-Second Wizarding War, Post-Canon, Epilogue What Epilogue (EWE), Secret Identity, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Falling In Love, Dating, Kissing, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Feel-good, Wholesome

Warnings: None