#;quidditch world queue

[vivwritesfics]

In Bloom

Chapter One

Max wasn't like other Hogwarts students. He was having to live with the terrible things his father had done. Everybody expected him to turn out like his father, but he was the furthest thing from. He just needed two people to see that

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Okay so this follows the basic plot of the Harry potter books (from memory), with some major differences to fit our drivers. A list of which Harry potter each driver relates to can be found HERE

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Max Verstappen could still remember the dread he felt as he stepped up to the sorting hat at just eleven years old. Everybody avoided him on the train, and he'd waited at the back of the queue to be sorted.

Not Slytherin, he thought as he climbed those stairs. Anything but Slytherin.

It came as no surprise that he was sorted into Slytherin. His entire family had been, and he was no different. 'There wasn't a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin,' he'd heard somebody say before the sorting.

But even Slytherin didn't want him. He went to sit down and everybody shuffled away from him, giving him plenty of space. Even in his newfound house, even with the people that were supposed to be like his family, as professor Vettel had said, he felt alone.

Unable to look past his own dread, Max had failed to notice something. He failed to notice the boy with his hair covering his forehead and eyes, definitely impairing his vision. Even when the boys name was called, Max didn't notice.

He shouldn't have been surprised to hear the name 'Leclerc Charles' called. He was the boy that had defeated his father, after all. The whispers began as soon as his name was called. Gryffindor, his new house, cheered as he ran to join them. The same thing happened for Max just moments later, but without the cheering. They were like mythical creatures to the other students in the hall. Well, Charles was. Max was more like a circus freak.

First year for Max Verstappen was incredibly lonely. All anybody wanted to talk to him about was his father. They were all questions he couldn't answer because he didn't know his father. He had been destroyed when Max was only a year old.

Flying lessons were Max's favourite. He'd grown up watching Quidditch with his mother, even playing it sometimes. She'd played it for her entire life, up until she met Jos. It was in Max's blood. Max was determined to show Professor Button just what he could do to be put on the Slytherin team. No first year had ever made it onto the team before, he was determined to be the first.

Max tried to act shocked when Professor Button went to Professor Alonso, the head of Slytherin house, and begged him to put Max on the Qudditch team. "He's the best thing this schools ever seen!" Professor Button insisted.

Professor Alonso gave him a trial period. One match to prove he could keep up with the older kids on the team. For Max Verstappen, it was the easiest thing in the world.

This was the stuff of legend in Hogwarts. But it was overshadowed by Charles Leclerc and his idiot friends.

Max didn't know what happened to Charles, Esteban and Pierre under the school. It was all speculation and rumours. Nobody know whether they fought a dragon or found the legendary philosophers stone. Only Professor Schumacher knew that. Professor Schumacher and Charles.

Max heard all of the rumours. He ignored them as best he could. But there was one rumour that he couldn't shake. "Someone said that it was your dad Charles was fighting under the school," said Nikita, a fellow Sytherin and a massive dickhead. "Said he killed him, again."

Max couldn't stop his reaction. He leapt out of his seat in the common room and swung his fist at Nikita, hitting him square in the jaw. Nikita stumbled back, holding his jaw. Shock played on his face, but it soon turned into a smile. "You're going to regret," he started. "Didn't you know my father is close, personal friends with the minister?"

"I didn't ask, Nikita," Max spat as he walked away, leaving the common room all together.

First year wasn't all bad for Max. No, he made history on the Quidditch team and he made a few friends. Lando and Daniel, two Hufflepuffs with the widest smiles and hearts of gold.

He met Daniel first. He was maybe the first person Max had ever properly gotten along with. He found a kindred spirit in Daniel. He was maybe the funniest person Max had ever met.

Daniel had introduced Max to Lando halfway through their first year. Max had never had that connection with anybody. He finally knew what it was like to have friends, and it felt amazing. For the first time since arriving at the school, Max was himself. He was happy, funny, bubbly. Every joke Max cracked had Daniel folded at the waist, hands on his knees as he laughed.

Their friendship continued into Max and Lando's second year. Daniel was just that little bit older, going into his fourth year.

Second year was the first proper run in that Max had with Charles Leclerc. It had been a shit day for Max, Nikita was being an ass and his potions test scores were less than perfect. He was pissed at himself. His escape was the quidditch pitch. It was supposed to be empty. He could fly around, weaving in and out of the stands and goal hoops as much as he liked.

But he wasn't alone. No, somebody else was opening the box of quidditch supplies. Max hung back, watching to see what Charles did. He watched as Charles tucked the quaffle under his arm and mounted his broom.

He wasn't even on the quidditch team for his house. What was he doing there? But, the more Max watched, the more he understood. He watched as Charles flew around with skill. He did what Max was going to do, weaving around the stands and through the goal hoops, all with the quaffle tucked under his arm. It was no easy accomplishment. Max was thoroughly impressed.

He gave Charles a nod as he mounted his broom and flew around. They stayed away from each other that time, practiced without disturbing one another.

As soon as Max was done, he rushed to Professor Buttons office. He was still in his quidditch robes, his fingers a little frozen as he held his broom. "Professor," he called as he knocked on the door. "Can I talk to you?"

Max would never tell Charles Leclerc that he was the reason he was on the quidditch team. They hadn't spoken two words to each other yet, Max couldn't imagine a time where they'd be that friendly.

In his second year of Quidditch Max proved himself to be better than anyone expected. But, with the addition of Charles to the Gryffindor team, Slytherin finally had some real competition.

But the year wasn't all sparkles and rainbows. Not when the attacks started. Muggleborns being petrified, it was terrifying.

When the chamber of secrets was opened, everybody turned to Max. His father had opened it last time, hadn't he? So it only made sense that he opened it this time.

Those were the first words Charles Leclerc spoke to him. "Did you open the chamber of secrets?"

Mac couldn't hide the shock on his face. "Are you kidding me? Why would I want to attack muggleborns?" One of his best friends was muggleborn, for goodness sake.

But still, Charles wouldn't leave it alone. Things only got worse when Esteban was petrified. Charles cornered Max, demanded he fixed what he had done. All Max could do was express condolences and walk away.

But then Daniel was petrified. "Fuck," Max choked out when Lando told him. He followed him to the hospital wing and rushed straight to Daniels side. He wouldn't leave, not until his best friend was up and moving. The nurses were too afraid of him to pull him away.

Golden boy Charles saved the day. He found out who had been opening the chamber, a little first year who had no control over her actions. A cure for the petrifications was made using Mandrakes and Esteban and Daniel were on their feet just before the end of the year.

Max had been avoiding Charles. Ever seen his confronted him over Esteban, he wanted nothing to do with him. He and everyone else would always see him as the villain. It was so sad to learn that at just twelve years old.

But Charles found him. He cornered him once again, but this time, his expression was soft. "I'm sorry," he said.

Max looked at the floor, his jaw tight.

"It was wrong of me to assume that you're the one who opened the chamber. I realise that now," he continued.

Max let out something of a snort. "Just because my dad is a monster, it doesn't mean I am," was all he said. He pushed past him, trying to get away, trying to get to the end of year feast. But, before he could get too far, he stopped and turned back towards Charles. "If you want any chance of beating us in Quidditch next year, you should get a haircut, stop it from going in your eyes."

Just before the start of their third year, mass murderer Nico Rosberg escaped from Azkaban. Max remembered reading it in the paper. He read the headline out loud and his mother let the plate she was holding slip from her grasp. "Nico got out?" She asked as she rushed over.

Max nodded his head and showed her the paper. "I wanna know how he got past the dementors," he said with curiosity. He then turned to his mother. "Did you know him?"

It wasn't often she spoke about her time with Jos. From the little bits Max knew, it was awful and Max was the only good thing to come from it.

She shook her head. "He started Hogwarts just as I was finishing. I remember hearing his name a lot. He was always causing some sort of trouble with his best friend."

Max dropped the topic. The news article had said that Nico had been a supporter of his father. If he was out, maybe he was going to try and finish the job on Charles.

At the first feast of the year, a new teacher was introduced. Professor Hamilton, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for the year. But that wasn't all. Max watched from the Slytherin table as Lando walked into the hall, his arm around a pretty girl. He knew Lando had other friends, had seen him with this girl a few times. But he didn't know her, not at all.

It was indescribable how pretty she was. Max's eyes followed as she sat herself down between Lando and his other Hufflepuff friend, Max (Fewtrell).

Max tried really hard not to stare, but it was damn near impossible. She was his very first crush, and he didn't even know her name.

For the few classes he shared with Hufflepuff, Max tried to get Lando to tell him her name. Maybe it was because Lando wasn't the sharpest tool in the box, but he just wasn't getting it. Max was being as obvious as he could be, without saying anything at all.

The day he learnt her name was the same day that he watched her run up to Chatles Leclerc and plant a kiss on his cheek. Maxs face fell. She was his first crush, and she was with somebody else. That was just his luck.

She was with Charles, that was clear. Max saw the way he placed his arm over her shoulders while they talked with Lando. So, why the hell was Lando introducing her to Max in the middle of charms?

She held her hand out to him, a lovely smile on her face. "I can't believe you two haven't met before," Lando said as he sat on the table.

Max couldn't quite believe he was shaking her hand. He had no clue what to say to her and, in a desperate bid to make a good first impression, he made a terrible one

But it didn't matter. The next time Max saw her was care of magical creatures with professor Brown. As with every lesson, Nikita made an ass of himself. Max couldn't help but shut him down, and that seemed to impress her.

But Nikita didn't know when to quit. It was his fault the beast struck him. It was his fault he'd sustained such an injury to his arm.

It was all he could talk about for the next few weeks. Max didn't know what would happen to the beast that had 'attacked' Nikita. Nikita boasted about a trial, about the beast being put to death. Of course, Max didn't believe it, not until he saw her crying about it.

She was too pretty to cry, Max thought as he watched her across the hall. She sat at the Gryffindor table, leaning against Charles as he rubbed her back. That should have been him, Max couldn't help but selfishly think.

On the day of the beasts execution, Max followed her and Charles down to Professor Brown's hut. He stayed behind them, watching as she swung her fist towards Nikita. Good, he thought. It was what that prick deserved.

She and Charles didn't notice him as they stepped into Professor Brown's hut. But Professor Brown did. "Come on in, Max," he said, stepping aside to let her and Charles see him.

Charles didn't scowl, like Max had expected. He gave him a sad smile as she stepped towards him, holding him. "It's awful, Max," she sobbed against his shirt. "They're going to kill him because Nikita is an asshole."

Max stood there, looked at Charles over the top of the head. There was a minute before he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed slightly.

"I found something of yours," said Professor Brown as he guided her away from Max. He grabbed a shoe box and opened it up, revealing her pet rat.

She didn't show up to Hogwarts with an owl, cat, rat or toad. This rat she had found at the station and, in a bid of desperation, she picked him up. He was so tame, she figured he had to be a magical rat.

Before they knew it, they were being ushered out of the hut by Professor Brown. They hid behind shrubbery as Professor Schumacher, the head master, brought Bernie Ecclestone, the minister, and the executioner, down to the hut.

As soon as the three of them had their backs to the students, Max and Charles got her back to the castle. They got halfway there before the sound of the axe hitting something stopped them.

Her gasp rang in the boys ears and she turned towards Charles, burying her face in his chest as she cried. "It's okay, chérie. I've got you."

But, suddenly, he didn't have her. Suddenly she was on the floor, screaming as a vicious, hairy beast dragged her towards the womping willow, its jaws clamped around her leg. Charles screamed her name as he ran after her, but the tree fought back.

Fuck, Max thought as he ran after Charles. The tree attacked them however it could, keeping them away from the tunnel the beast had dragged her down.

Charles dodged those he could, but one smacked him in the chest and he went flying back, the air knocked from his lungs when he landed. Max had gotten closer to the tunnel entrance. He jumped over the trees limbs when they came towards him, getting to the tunnel entrance in minutes.

But he couldn't leave Charles behind. The tree didn't fight him as he ran back towards him. "Come on," Max grunted, grabbing Charles's hand and pulling him to his feet.

The tree once again tried to stop them. Max kept a hold of Charles's hand, pulling him around the attacking limbs. They ducked and dodged and jumped. But one limb managed to knock them both over. Max immediately grabbed the limb and Charles grabbed a hold of him.

They were lifted into the air, the tree trying to throw them off. But it was doing do in a pattern, one Max easily deciphered. "Hold on!" He shouted to Charles, who just squeezed him tighter.

At the right moment Max let go of the branch, falling into the tunnel entrance. Charles was right behind him, landing on top of him. "Sorry," Charles said, taking his hand and helping him up. He pulled his wand from his back pocket and held it out in front of him. "Lumos," he whispered and the tunnel lit up.

Holding his wand out in front of them, Charles led the way through the tunnel. They followed paw prints until they weren't paw prints anymore, but feet, the soles of battered shoes against the dirt.

When they got to a set of old and unstable steps, Max and Charles looked at each other. She was up there, she had to be.

"Nox," Charles whispered. The first step creaked under his foot and he nervously looked to Max. But they climbed the stairs anyway. The closer they got to the top of the stairs, they more they could hear her pained gasps. The two of them hurried.

Charles couldn't stop himself from kicking the door open. "Charles, Max, no!" She cried, grasping her bloody leg. "It's a trap, he's an animagus!"

As the door swung shut behind them, Max and Charles turned around. There he was, his striped jumpsuit tattered and dirty. The smile he wore was grim and his blonde hair was long and disgusting.

Immediately, Max and Charles put their bodies between her and Rosberg. The escaped convict's smile only grew as he took a step forward. "Move aside." His eyes were focused on Max. "It's not you that I want."

But Max stood in front of them protectively. "If you want to get to either of them, you have to go through me."

Rosberg laughed. "Stupid boy," he said through his laugh. "I don't want either of them, I want him," he said, pointing at her.

Her body tembled as she held her mangled leg. The rat in her pocket was squeaking uncontrollably. "I-I'm a girl!" She cried.

But Rosberg let out an exasperated sigh. He lifted his wand.

"Expelliarmus!"

Professor Hamilton, that years defence against the dark arts teacher, stood in the door way. It wasn't a surprise that none of them heard him coming up the stairs, not with the way adrenaline was running through them.

Professor Hamilton looked at the kids and then at Rosberg. And then he dropped his wand and stepped forwards, pulling him into his embrace. "Good to see you, old friend," he said, clapping him on the back.

"What the fuck?" Max couldn't help himself. He held his wand out in front of him. "I trusted you, and this entire time you've been working with him? You've been on my dad's side, too?"

"Max, you don't understand," Hamilton replied, holding his hand up. "This entire time I thought that Nico did all of those terrible things. But then Charles came to me and said he saw someone on the map that I believed to be dead. Sergio Perez."

"Well, the map was wrong, then!" Charles called. He had migrated over to her, crouching by her side. She wasn't okay and there was nothing he could do.

Hamilton shook his head. "The map never lies," he said. "It could only mean one thing, Charles. That Checo was alive and he was the reason your parents are dead."

Slowly, Charles stood up. He pulled his wand from his pocket as he walked forward. "That's not true," he said. "It couldn't have been him because he died. Rosberg killed him and all they could find was-"

"A finger! Chopped it off and escaped into the sewers, he did," Rosberg finished.

Hamilton looked past them as Charles tried to process everything in his mind. "Your rat, please," said Hamilton as he looked at her.

"What? No! What do you want with him?" She cried as she pulled him from her pocket and held him close to her chest. But Professor Hamilton was still advancing, reaching for the rat.

It was Charles that stopped him. He held his hand up, asking Professor Hamilton to just give him a moment, before crouching down to her height. "Please, chérie. I need you to trust me," he said, reaching for the rat.

For just a moment, she stared at Charles. He thought he was going to have to pry the rat from her hands and lose her trust forever. But she willingly gave the rat to Charles, who handed it to Professor Hamilton.

"We do this together," said Rosberg as he grabbed his wand from the floor.

"Expelliarmus!"

Once again, Rosbergs wand went flying out of his hands. Hamilton kept ahold of the rat as they wheeled around to find the head of Slytherin house.

"I told Schumacher," Alonso began as he walked into the room. "I said from the minute you arrived that you were trouble. And here you are, helping your old friend into the castle. Well, Lewis, you can have Nico's old cell once the dementors give him that kiss. I've heard they're looking forward to it. Got a cell in the tower waiting for you."

"Oh, piss off, little Nando no mates," Nico spat, but suddenly Fernando had his wand against his neck. Instantly, Nico stilled.

Fernando turned his attention to the kids. "You three, get back to the castle."

But they weren't going anywhere. Max knew it, Charles knew it, and she couldn't move.

Fernando quickly turned his attention back to Lewis and Nico. Before he could begin talking, Charles had raised his wand. "Expelliarmus!"

It was just meant to disarm Alonso, not send him flying back into the wall, knocking him out cold. "Shit, Charles," Max said through something of a grin. "You attacked a teacher."

But Charles didn't care about that. "Show me Perez," he demanded.

Hamilton and Rosberg were only too happy to oblige. Hamilton placed the rat onto the floor. He and Rosberg pointed their wands at the rat, sending silent spells in his direction.

The rat kept going, seemingly dodging the magic. But then, he wasn’t a rat at all. It wasn't clear which one cast the incantation, but a small-ish man in tattered clothing stood in the place of the rat. The most damning piece of evidence? His missing finger.

Charles couldn't quite believe his eyes. So Rosberg hadn't been the cause of his parents death. It had been Perez all along. Rosberg was an innocent nan, wrongfully imprisoned for all of those years.

"We do this together," said Rosberg. Hamilton nodded and, together, they pointed their wands at Perez.

"No, no, no!" He cried, scurrying across the floor. He quickly moved past Charles,towards her. "Girl, sweet girl," he said as she attempted to shuffle away from him. But, with her leg, she couldn't get far enough. "You won't let them hurt me, will you?"

Max pushed Perez away from her. "Leave her alone," he said through something of a snarl.

"Don't kill him," Charles said as he looked to Hamilton and Rosberg. "Take him to the castle. The dementors can have him and you could go free," he said, eying Rosberg.

Rosberg couldn't quite believe it. He cast a spell that bound Perez and lifted Alonso into the air.

"Oh, chérie," Charles whispered. He leaned forward to kiss her forehead before lifting her into his arms. She let out a small cry as Charles adjusted her, her injured leg brushing against his arm. But she locked her arms around his neck.

Max led the way. His wand was out, light coming from it as tye group of seven made their way back through the tunnel towards the school. Periodically Max turned around, looking at Charles as he carried her. That should have been him, he thought again.

Max climbed out of the tunnel first. He turned taking her body from Charles. One by one they climbed out of the tunnel. She stood on her uninjured leg as Alonso's still unconscious body was placed on the ground. Rosberg and Hamilton wandered a little way away from the group,the two of them looking up at the castle.

"How're you feeling, chérie?" Charles asked. He hardly called her by any other name. She gave a weak, pained smile. That was all Charles needed before he was pulling her body into his own, letting her rest against him.

Suddenly, Hamilton made a noise. A low, guttural noise, something inhuman. He looked away from the castle, his jaw slack and his eyes distant as he stared at the moon. The full moon.

"Shit," Rosberg hissed. Max stood to attention, placing himself between the changing werewolf and his friends. "Lewis, not now!" Nico cried wrapping his arms around him, as if trying to hold him together. "Any time but now!"

But Hamilton was still changing. His limbs were elongating, a thin layer of hair covering his skin. His clothes were shredded from his skin as his snout formed and hid ears sharpened.

Realising that he could do nothing, Nico let go out Lewis. He transformed into his animagus form, putting himself between the werewolf and the students.

At first, Hamilton barely moved. His breathing was heavy as he took just a moment to recover from the transformation.

As best as she could, she hopped forwards. "Chérie," Charles hissed in warning, trying to keep a hold of her.

She couldn't push him away, couldn't stand on her own as she looked at the werewolf. "Professor?" She called. "Professor Hamilton?"

The beast raised its head. The howl it let out echoed around the castle grounds. It was enough to rouse Professor Alonso from his temporary time out. "You!" He cried, pointing an accusing finger at Charles. Charles, who didn't much care, Charles, who was more concerned with getting her as close to him as possible.

When Alonso turned and around saw the beast, he threw his arms protectively around the three of them, keeping them behind him. There wasn't much else he could do but watch, his body shielding them, as Nico jumped at the beast.

The werewolf immediately threw him off, but Nico came back, this time doing damage. But again, the werewolf tossed him to one side. This time, Nico didn't get back up.

With his threat neutralised, the werewolf turned his attention back to the four of them. He got down onto all fours and slowly stalked forward. His slow pace only seemed to indicate that he was toying with them, that, no matter what they did, they were his prey.

Suddenly, from way in the distance, there was a howl. Hamilton turned towards it. He howled once more himself before he took off, running in the direction the howl had come from and completely ignoring his once prey.

As soon as Hamilton was gone, Charles passed her to Max. "Get her to the hospital wing!" He shouted as he took off running.

"Leclerc!" Alonso bellowed, but he made no move to go after him. "Get back here!"

But Charles was gone, disappearing off to wherever Nico was.

Her arms locked around Max's neck as he picked her up. Suddenly he was thinking quidditch for the useful muscles it had given him. "I'm sorry to put you through all of this," she whispered as her head fell against his shoulder.

He shook his head. "You didn't put me through anything," he replied. He so desperately wanted to kiss her head like he had seen Charles do. "Besides, if I wasn't here Professor Alonso would be carrying you. Do you really want that?" He asked and she let out a little giggle.

A small amount of pride blossomed in his chest.

At the hospital wing Max was asked to leave. But he refused. There was no way in hell he was just going to leave her. It was the only time he threw his name around to get his way.

At some point in the night Charles was brought into the hospital wing. He looked awful, like he had tried to drive a race car after suffering from appendicitis. But the nurse had confirmed that he was alive.

Max didn't sleep much that night. He stayed up, watching over his friends, recounting the events. It wasn't Nico Rosberg who had killed all of those people in the name of his father. It was Sergio Perez. Perez had gotten away in the commotion of their teacher being a fucking werewolf. It was crazy, but Max didn't know how he hadn't spotted it soon. Lupin took a few days a month off, Max just didn't notice that they were around the time of a full moon.

But Perez had gotten away, his father's loyal dog had gotten away, and Max would never forgive himsed.

He didn't know when he had fallen asleep. But, when he woke up, Pierre and Esteban sat around Charles. "I can't believe you went with him instead of us," Pierre muttered as he gestured to Max. Max simply sat up straighter, scowling in return.

"He saved her," was all Charles said as he nodded towards the girl sleeping beside Max.

The three of them continued to talk, and Max tried his best not to listen in. But it was harder than it looked when he constantly heard his name being dropped. They could fucking talk about him, he didn't care. By this point, he just didn't care.

When the doors flew open and Professor Schumacher strode in, Esteban and Pierre stood up. "Esteban, Pierre," the professor said. They said goodbye to Charles and walked past their head teacher. But, before they could get too far, Professor Schumacher grabbed a hold of Pierre. What he said to Pierre was too hushed for anybody else to hear, but it had him pulling something from beneath his shirt and striding towards the boys.

"Max, Charles," he said and Max left his chair, coming to stand beside Charles. Wordlessly, Professor Schumacher placed something over their heads.

Max picked up the necklace. "A time turner?"

"What's a time turner?" Asked Charles.

But Professor Schumacher didn't answer his question. "Two turns should do it," he said. "And you should be able to set everything right. Remember, don't let anybody see you," he said and strode out of the hospital wing.

Max turned the time turner. "How on earth did Pierre get one of these?" He asked as he spun it twice, and the room around them moved backwards. Professor Alonso carried Charles out of the hospital wing and Max took her back outside. Other students came and left, time still turning around them.

When it, at last, stilled, Max pulled the time turner from around their necks and placed it in his pocket. "Come on," he said as he grabbed Charles's hand.

As he pulled him out of the hospital wing, Max checked the time on his watch. "It's 5PM, where were we at five?"

Charles took a moment to think. "Ugh, I know I was taking her down to see Zac," he answered. "She punched Nikita."

Knowing exactly where to go, Max pulled Charles along. He pulled him through the halls, towards where they already were. But, suddenly, Max stopped. "Wha-" Charles began, but Max put his hand over his mouth, silencing him as he pulled him into an alcove.

The Max from before, the one that had been following Charles and her, turned for just a second. But, when she swung at Nikita, it distracted him long enough for the Max from the future to pull Charles outside.

"Max, what the hell?" Charles hissed as they watched Nikita and his friends run away. Charles from the past had his hand on the small of her back as he moved her along, heading to Zacs, Professor Brown's, hut. Max from the past followed. "That's us!"

"You're incredibly observant," Max quipped as he grabbed his hand once more. "I suppose you can see now you've cut your hair."

Charles let out a scoff, but Max was pulling him along once again, into the woods just opposite Zac's hut.

Nobody saw them, nobody but Rocky, the hippogriff. He raised his head and snorted, but quickly went back to sleep. "We can save him, too," Charles realised. "Him and Nico."

He strode forward and sent to grab the chain that kept Rocky tethered to the garden, but Max stopped him. "Professor Schumacher and the minister need to see him first, or you'll get Fred arrested," he whispered. Charles clenched his fists at his sides, but he nodded.

They watched as Fred pulled the rat from the box and handed it to her. There he was, Sergio Perez. Max and Charles looked at each other, their thoughts much the same. But they held back, and not just because the headmaster and the minister were coming.

They watched as the three of them left the hut. As the minister and Schumacher conversed with Fred, Charles and Max ran into the vegetable garden and grabbed a hold of Rocky's chain. "Come on, Rocky," Charles hissed, but the creature insisted on sleeping. It was only when Max bribed him with food that he followed them into the woods.

A sliver of satisfaction ran through them when the execution brought his axe down onto a bit of wood in anger. Rocky was safe, and all they had to do was wait.

It was surreal, watching everything that had happened. They watched as Nico, the dog, grabbed her leg and dragged her beneath the tree. They watched as they struggled to follow her.

"Can I ask you something?" Max enquired as he sat on the ground beside him. Rocky was behind them, playing in the trees. When Charles nodded his head, he continued. "Last year, you asked me if I opened the chamber. Do you really think I'm that much of a monster? Do you really think I'm that much like my dad?"

Charles let out an audible sigh. "I feel awful for that," he said as he lent back against the tree behind him. "All I know about your dad is that he's the reason my parents are dead. I'd met him in first year and, well, I still have nightmares about it. Of I had known you last year like I do now, I wouldn't have dreamed of blaming you."

They talked, actually talked, until Professor Hamilton came to the tree. "Did you have any idea he was a werewolf?" Max asked and Charles shook his head.

He pulled the time turner from his pocket. "Do you know why Pierre would have that?" Charles asked as he reached out to touch it.

Max shrugged his shoulders. "It makes sense, though. Pierre has been in so many classes this year, more than he should have had time for. This must be how he's being going to them all."

Next, Professor Alonso came by, and then, minutes later, they were all making their way out of the tree. "Thanks for looking after her," said Charles as he watched himself hand her to Max.

Max waved him off.

But it wasn't long before Professor Hamilton started his transformation. "Fuck," Max whispered as he watched Nico try and fail to protect them. What happened when they were up there? Something had howled, but no howl was coming. "Shit, get ready to run," he said to Charles before cupping his hands around his mouth and letting out a mighty howl.

The werewolf looked, but he didn't immediately begin running towards them. So, Max did it again.

The beast howled back and suddenly it was running towards them. "We're going to die out here," said Charles.

"Yep," Max agreed and the two boys took off running. But they didn't get very far, not before the werewolf caught up to them.

Their hearts were beating, blood so loud in their ears that they were sure the werewolf could hear them. Max squeezed his eyes shut, unable to keep them opened. He was incredibly grateful when Charles pulled him further around the tree they were hiding behind.

All they could hear was their werewolf Professor sniffing around behind them. It was the only indication that they were somewhat safe. But then, the sniffing stopped and the growls began. The two turned, almost paralysed with fear as the werewolf stood to its full height. "Professor," Charles began, but he was no longer human.

He moved towards them and they tried to back up. He raised a large, clawed hand, but he didn't get a chance to bring it down, to strike them. Not before Rocky jumped in front of them, using his large talons to fend off the beast.

Whimpering, the werewolf ran off. "Go Rocky!" Charles called as the hippogriff pranced in front of him.

Max checked the time on his watch. "Come on," he said, once again reaching for Charles's hand. Over the course of the evening he'd noticed just how much he'd enjoyed that, enjoyed holding Charles's hand. "We've got to get back to the castle."

But Charles ripped his hand away from Max. "We need to go and save Nico!" He called before he took off running. "Someone was there, Max! Someone cast a patronus and fended off the dementors! I need to know who it is!"

But, when they got to the lake, nobody was there. Just Charles from the past cradling Nico's body as dementors fed off of them. "Charles!" Max called.

"They're coming to help! I know they are!"

But Charles from the past and Nico looked terrible, close to the end. "Charles, you're dying. And nobody's coming," he said softly.

Charles bit his lip as he looked at Max. He sucked in one steady breath and ran over to the edge of the lake. He raised his wand, drew in a deep breath and bellowed, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

It was an incredible sight. Max knew Charles was capable of some serious magic, he just didn't realise it was this serious. All of the dementors left the scene just in time for Professor Alonso to lift the unconscious Charles and Nico away from the scene.

Nico, they could still save Nico. "Come on!" Charles shouted as he climbed onto Rocky's back. Taking Max's hand, he pulled him onto Rocky's back and he secured his arms around him.

Rocky flew them out of the woods. "Where would Alonso put Nico?" Max shouted over the sounds of the wind.

"When we were in the shack, he said something about the tower," Charles called back.

That was exactly where Rocky took them. As he landed them outside of the cell, Max slipped from Rocky's back and cast a spell to open the door.

Immediately, Nico ran out to them. "Thank you," he said to them. "Both of you. If it wasn't for your bravery, I would have lost my life."

"Quick, take Rocky and go, before the dementors come," Charles said. He helped Nico onto the Hippogriff's back. Immediately they took off, and Charles and Max began running, heading back to the hospital wing.

When they got there, Professor Schumacher was pulling the doors shut behind him. "We did it," said Charles, his hands on his knees. "We saved both of them."

Professor Schumacher looked at the both of them. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said and took his leave, leaving the boys standing there.

Charles released a breath. "I can't believe we actually did it," he said, grinning at Max. "Should we go and tell her all about it?"

Max nodded his head and Charles pushed his way into the hospital wing. He watched, frozen in place as he strode across the room, over to her. Suddenly, Max didn't feel so jealous as he watched Charles run his fingers through her hair.

That was when he realised, he liked boys, too.

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[gracexthoughts]

of violent delights chap 18

beginning of the end

Euphemia’s POV 

15 june 1996 

Mattheo, 

Hi, how’s your summer going? I’ve been thinking about you

20 june 1996 

Matt, 

I hope you are well. 

5 july 1996 

Mattheo, 

Would you call me needy if I asked what the coffee cup and cigarette meant? 

16 july 1996

Mattheo, 

I figured you’d have written at least once. If you’re still concerned about what you said that night, you shouldn’t be. I don’t care about any of that shit, Matt. And I can’t just pretend none of it happened and I don't want to pretend. 

25 july 1996

Was one night all you wanted all along? Just another notch on your belt? 

17 august 1996 

I scan the shelves in front of me as I try to decide what to make for dinner tonight. There’s a small corner shop at the end of the block Harry and I live on where I do most of our shopping. I sigh, picking ingredients out for some pasta and move towards the check out queue, pulling my muggle money out as I wait in the long queue. The radio plays softly through the store and my mind drifts to Mattheo Riddle, as it often does when I allow my mind to wander for more than a minute. When I left Hogwarts, three months ago, I had hoped to hear from Mattheo but I’ve gotten nothing. Not a single letter, note, anything all summer and I can’t help the bitterness that’s been creeping into my heart over the summer. 

I tell myself I shouldn’t be surprised; that Mattheo Riddle, the infamous Slytherin Casanova, has never slept with the same girl twice and I was never going to be any different. But we were different, or at least I thought we were. Maybe that was naive of me to assume. Maybe Fred and George were right. 

Mattheo’s POV

10 june 1996 

Mia, 

Have you settled into your new apartment yet? I hope it’s everything you hoped it would be. You deserve to be happy. 

19 june 1998 

Mia, 

Saw in the prophet that Sirius Black was spotted in a muggle town. It wasn’t near you, was it? I hope you are safe… 

2 july 1996 

Mia, 

I dreamt about you last night. 

13 july 1996

Mia, 

How have you invaded every tiny part of my brain? It's maddening, princess, really. I think I’m going mad. 

30 july 1996

Mia, 

I’m sorry I haven’t written. I’m not great with words, especially when it involves emotions. The amount of letters I’ve started and thrown out is ridiculous. I miss you. Is that crazy? I can’t remember the last time I missed anyone. Although you’re not just anyone are you? 

14 august 1996

I set my quill down with a sigh, resisting the urge to rub my eyes with my ink stained hands as I stare down at the finished sketch; Euphemia Potter looks back up at me from the page, a mischievous smile on her lips. My sketchbook is as filled with her as my head is. All my hand has produced this summer is her. Her face partially covered by her hair as it blows in the wind, her smoking a cigarette in the Astronomy Tower, her in class listening studiously to a lecture, the way her face lights up when she smiles, the way she looked after we kissed, the way she looked under me and sleeping the next morning. Her face is all I see when I close my eyes and with every page I fill with her I hope it takes her out of my head but it doesn’t. It's just her all the time and I think it will drive me insane. 

24 august 1996

Draco, Elladora and I follow behind the adults as we make our way up the seemingly endless amount of stairs of the Quidditch World Cup Stadium. Mr. Malfoy managed to get us all personally invited to watch the match from the Minister’s box at the very top of the stadium, which Draco has been bragging about relentlessly. Finally we reach the top box, my legs infinitely thankful, and as I step around Ella the sight makes my heart skip a beat. Sitting in the front row of the box is nearly an entire row of redheads but the only one I care about is Mia. Her long red hair is pulled up into a ponytail and she’s decked out in green for the Irish. She chats amicably with the Weasley sitting next to her who I remember slightly from my first year at Hogwarts but can’t recall his name and my attention is pulled from her as Mr. Malfoy greets the Minister of Magic. 

“I don’t think you’ve met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?” Mr. Malfoy says, pushing Draco forward to greet the Minister. “And this is our ward, Elladora. She’s Narcissa’s niece.” 

“How do you do? How do you do?” Fudge greets them, smiling and bowing. 

“And this is Medusa, my sister, and her son, Mattheo,” Mr. Malfoy adds, gesturing down to my mother and me. 

“Ah, yes of course. How do you do?” I see the realization in Fudge’s eyes of what Mr. Malfoy left out-- our surname-- as he shakes my hand and bows politely to my mother. 

At my name, however, Mia turns around and our eyes lock for a moment and I feel like the world has been upside down for the last three months and it's right side up again. “Hey princess,” I mouth to her but all she does is smile politely and turn back around. My jaw clenches as I watch her laugh at something one of the Weasley Twins says and she continues to face forward, not looking my way. 

“Seems like the princess moved on,” Ella mutters in my ear, clearly pleased. 

“Shut up,” I glare at her out of the corner of my eye, moving to sit in my seat. Mr. Malfoy talks a few moments longer, clear distaste in his expression that the Weasleys managed seats in the Minister’s box and that they brought Granger; he always has been a stuck up git, although the rest of our group isn’t much better. 

I spend much of the match distracted by Mia, everytime she cheered and or reacted to the match, my gut twisted horribly anytime she touches or laughs or looks at anyone who isn’t me. And it isn't until the very end, when she stands up to leave once the match has ended, do her green eyes land on me again. We share a brief glance but too soon her eyes leave mine and I’m left feeling lost again. Does she regret what happened? I stew in my own bitter air as we follow the crowd down the endless stairs and back onto solid ground. 

“Who was that lovely girl?” My mother whispers to me as we begin the walk back to our campsite. 

“Who?” I ask innocently, watching where I’m stepping as we traipse through the dark. 

“The one you couldn’t take your eyes off of. You barely watched the match, darling,” Mum pries further. 

“I watched the match,” I grumble. 

“Hm, so who is she?” 

“Mia… Mia Potter,” I relent finally, avoiding my mother’s gaze. Most people would be surprised that she doesn’t know but, being a Riddle is still very taboo in this world, even more so for my mother than me, so Mum doesn’t venture outside much except her small social circle. 

“Oh, well. With her hair I assumed she was a Weasley but I guess her mother did have red hair as well,” my mother says casually and I turn my head to look at her. 

“You knew the Potters?” I ask. 

“Of course, we overlapped a few years at Hogwarts as well, her parents and I. And the Potters were a pureblood family before James married Lily. My father worked with Fleamont at the Ministry. Mia, you called her? Well Fleamont would have been her grandfather. Do you like her?” my mother says easily, as if I didn’t just admit to being close with one of the two people responsible for her husband’s death. I look at her with raised eyebrows and she laughs slightly at me. “I’m not your father, dear. While I may prefer you to find a nice pureblood girl to settle down with eventually, I won’t force you into anything. You’ve never done anything unless it was what you wanted.” 

“Woah, who said anything about settling down?” I balk, my feet stop walking of their own volition but my mother just laughs, turning to face me. 

“Mothers think about that kind of stuff. Besides, you’ve never told me about any other girl before so I assume this Mia is special,” she says, tilting her head at me. 

“She’s too good for me…She deserves someone better than me,” I say after a long moment, looking down at my shoes. 

“Then be better,” my mother says softly, reaching out to cup my chin and lift my head so I’m looking at her dark gray eyes. My mum and I look nothing alike; she has the white hair and gray eyes of a Malfoy, but I inherited my father’s looks: his dark hair and dark eyes and tainted soul. “If you really care for her, then work to deserve her, if that’s what you want.” 

“You don’t think it's a bad idea? A Riddle and a Potter?” I ask slowly, searching my mum’s eyes.

“I don’t know if it is or not,” she admits, releasing my chin, “but I do know that love is stronger than all other kinds of magic.” She smiles at me softly, patting my cheek before nodding towards where the Malfoys and Ella are still walking ahead of us. “Let’s go and tomorrow, you can tell me all about her.” 

Euphemia’s POV 

“There’s no one like Krum!” Ron exclaims, standing up on a chair so he’s taller while the Twins dance around him clad in their green gear. “He’s like a bird the way he rides the wind! He’s not just an athlete. He’s an artist!” 

“I think you’re in love, Ron!” Ginny calls, laughing next to me on the couch in our bigger-on-the-inside-tent along with Hermione on the other side of Ginny. 

“Victor, I love you! Victor I doooo!” The twins start singing and Harry, Ginny and I join in, “When we’re apart my heart beats only for YOUUUU!” Ginny, Hermione and I fall to bits laughing as the Twins and Ron start wrestling and Harry backs up several feet to avoid being swung at. Although he accidentally falls straight into Charlie’s lap, sending us all into further hysterics. I’m grateful for my friends, or family as they often feel like. Seeing Mattheo rattled me more than I thought it would after three months of not hearing from him. Even with all the anger at his silence, seeing him again made me feel like I’d been lost all summer and finally found my way back home. 

“Stop it! Stop it!” Mr. Weasley yells at the boys, running back into the tent as screaming echoes from outside. 

“Sounds like the Irish are having a party,” Bill chuckles, looking towards the entrance of the tent. 

“It’s not the Irish, we need to leave!” Mr. Weasley says urgently. 

“What? Why?” I ask, standing along with everyone else. Mr. Weasley doesn’t respond, just begins pushing us all out of the tent. As we stumble outside, heat of fires hits us as tents burn not a few rows behind us, people running at top speed all around us, and at the center of all the chaos, is a crowd of wizards with hooded cloaks and skull masks obscuring their features, and above them are four floating people struggling against invisible bonds, the wizards under them holding their wands straight up, controlling the figures above like some sick marionette show. Everything is chaos and fire and screaming. As a green light flashes in front of the crowd, I recognize the faces of the Muggle groundskeeper who we had paid for our tent spot and I assume the rest is his family. The sight makes me sick. 

“Get to the woods, hide and I’ll find you later! And stick together! Bill, Charlie, Percy, you’re with me! Mia, Fred, George, everyone else is your responsibility. Go! RUN!” Mr. Weasley shouts over the screams before the four older Weasley’s run toward the masked crowd. 

“C’mon! We gotta go!” I yell to the others, grabbing Harry’s hand, and Fred, George, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Harry, and I all begin sprinting with the rest of the crowd towards the woods. Fred, George and I with our wands in hand, just in case, as we push through the crowd which is getting tighter and tighter. My hand slips away from Harry’s and I call out to him, but his voice is still behind me so I keep moving. 

After what seems like forever, we stumble into the tree line, panting and sweaty. I trip on a tree branch and fall straight into George who manages to catch me and help me stand back upright. I turn and see Fred, Ginny, Ron and Hermione. “Where’s Harry?” I ask the two urgently. They look around, fear growing on their faces as they look around. “Harry!” I yell, panic taking over my body. 

“Mia, I’m sure he’s fine, we’ll find-” Fred starts but I don’t stick around to listen as I take off back towards the campsite at top speeds and I run back through the forest and crowds of people. 

“Harry!” I shout over and over, searching everywhere for my brother, as tents burn and smolder around me, but I don’t see the crowd of masked wizards anymore. As I near where our own campsite had been, I start panicking even further. I stop and look around me, nothing but smoldering and smoking tents as far as I can see. “Harry!!” I shout, loudly as possible, tears threatening to obscure my vision. 

“Mia?” I suddenly hear and I whip around to see Harry emerge from behind a tent. I gasp and we run to each other, colliding roughly. I grab at his face and shoulders and arms frantically checking for burns or blood. 

“Are you okay? What happened? Why didn’t you follow us?” 

“I don’t know, I got separated and fell down and got knocked out I think, I don’t-” Harry starts explaining but his eyes suddenly land on something over my shoulder and I turn to see a man kicking over something laying in the embers before looking up at the sky and raising his wand. I push Harry slightly behind a tent and follow suit, looking through a burned hole to watch the man. He mutters something I don’t quite catch and green shoots out of his wand and into the sky. A skull and snake, seemingly made out of green light, appears in the sky and Harry groans beside me, his hand shooting up to touch his lighting bolt scar. I watch the sky, illuminated green by the Dark Mark; something I’ve only ever read about and very much hoped I’d never see in person and fear grips me. Movement pulls my eyes away and I look back through the hole in the burned tent to see the man who cast the Mark coming straight for us. 

“Harry, I need you to run,” I whisper, not taking my eyes off the man. 

“What?” he groans, his voice sounding pained. 

“Go, run into the woods and find the others. I’ll be right behind you,” I whisper frantically and I watch as the man raises his wand in our direction. “Protego!” I shout, casting a shield charm as a curse shoots from the man’s wand. “GO!” I yell to my brother but he doesn’t move, just pulls out his own wand and casts Explelliarmus over the tent, but the man deflects it. I stand and shoot another curse over the tent. The man stumbles back slightly as it hits him, causing his wand arm to turn numb and he watches me carefully before turning and running in the other direction. 

I drop back down to my knees and cradle my brother’s face in my hands. “Are you okay? Does your scar hurt?” But before he can answer, voices echo over the landscape and there’s a blinding series of flashes over Harry’s and my heads. 

“Stop! Stop!” Calls Mr. Weasley, running towards us quickly, Charlie in his wake. “Harry, Mia, what are you doing here? Are you alright?” 

“Which of you conjured it?!” A cold voice inquires and Mr. Crouch pushes his way past Mr. Weasley and points his wand at Harry and I. “Which of you did it? Do not lie!” 

“You think we did this?” I cry indignantly. 

“You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!” Crouch responds. 

“This is the Potters! I don’t think they’re like-” Charlie scoffs but Mr. Weasley raises a hand to cut him off. 

“They’re just kids, Barty!” Mr. Weasley tries reasoning with the man. “Where did the Mark come from, Mia?” 

“A man,” I shrug, explaining how I found Harry and saw the man and everything that happened before they showed up. 

“What did he look like?” One of the other Ministry officials asks. 

“I didn’t see his face, it's too dark,” I say helplessly. “I’m sorry.” 

✦

2 september 1996

I’ve had nightmares about the Dark Mark nearly every night since the World Cup mixing in with the usual visions I’ve grown used to over the years. Last night was a particularly nasty one but what worries me more than anything, is Harry’s scar hurting him. He confessed the morning after the World Cup that he'd woken up from a dream about Voldemort a few nights previous and had woken up with the pain in his forehead. 

Our curse scars have always baffled me. Our matching lighting bolt looking scars are so strange they confound even Dumbledore. At the end of Harry’s first year, and his run in with Voldemort and Professor Quirell, we explained to the Headmaster that Harry’s scar had been paining him for weeks but mine has never hurt at all. Dumbledore didn’t have an explanation and since then, Harry’s scar has only ever hurt when near Voldemort, or his ghost, so the return of the pains is a terrifying idea. Remus, who I wrote to the next morning, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley all say not to worry, that Harry and I are safe and protected but the fear still hides in the back of my mind. 

I sigh, shouldering my bag as I push my way out of the library where I spent my afternoon free period, a perk of fewer N.E.W.T. level classes. The sun shines through the windows, lighting up the corridor with warm golden light. Even with all the terrifying things, being back at Hogwarts is lovely. Dumbledore announced at the Welcome Feast last night that two international schools will be joining us around Halloween for something called the TriWizard Tournament which has sent the whole school into an excited frenzy. 

I turn the corner of the hall, making my way back to Gryffindor Tower, but I run right into someone standing right behind the turn. “Oof, I’m sorry!” I exclaim, looking up from a green Slytherin tie at my eye level to the deep warm brown eyes of Mattheo Riddle and my heart skips a beat. I forgot how good he looks in his uniform, bloody hell. Mattheo stands there in all his glory, dark curls perfectly tousled, his tie loose around his neck and his shirt sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, veins standing out on the back of his hands that I can still feel on my waist if I think hard enough.   

“Careful, Princess,” he smirks easily, like no time has passed since the last time we spoke. 

“Sorry,” I mutter, dropping his gaze and kneeling to gather the textbook I dropped but Mattheo beats me too and holds it out of my reach, that stupid cocky smile that I like so much on that stupidly perfect face. “Can I have my book, please?” 

“Not until you tell me why you’re avoiding me,” he says, still holding the book out of my reach. 

“I-I’m just busy,” I stutter. 

“Mia, c’mon, it’s the start of the year. How busy can you be? You barely acknowledged me at the World Cup and you brushed me off on the train yesterday and you can barely even look at me right now. What’s going on? Is it what happened after the World Cup? Do you think I had something to do with that?” He asks, hurt shining in his eyes and I blink, realizing that no it did not occur to me for a moment to suspect him. 

“What? No, I- Should I? Did you?” I ask, searching his eyes as he sighs, dropping his arm to his side, the textbook smacking against his leg. 

“No! Not at all! You know I hate that kind of shit-” 

“Well then why did you bring it up?” I ask, getting frustrated, trying to snatch my textbook from his hands but he pulls it back again. 

“Because it's the only reason I can think of that would make you avoid me,” Mattheo says, turning to pin me against the wall causing memories of him pressing me against my dorm room door. “So if it’s not that then what is it?” 

“Maybe the fact that we slept together and you snuck out in the middle of the night and then I didn’t hear from you all summer!” I finally snap and his face falls as my words hit him. 

“Oh, Mia-” 

“If all you wanted was one night you could’ve just said! Not string me along all term and make me feel like an id-” I’m cut off as Mattheo presses a kiss to my lips and effectively melting all the bitterness and anger away, infuriatingly quickly. “You can’t just kiss… me and expect… everything to be okay… again,” I say in between his kisses.

“I’m sorry,” he says eventually, reaching up to brush a piece of my hair behind my ear. I snuck out because I didn’t want to get caught coming out of your room and I didn’t want to wake you up so early. I didn’t want any rumors to get around before we had a chance to talk and I tried to write, I did, but I’m shit at it really. Words aren’t my thing but I tried and I thought about you all the time. Shit, I filled an entire sketchbook with you but I’m-” 

“What?” I breathe out in bewilderment at his confession. He looks at me sheepishly, which is something I never thought I’d say about Mattheo Riddle. 

“Well I’m shit at words but I can draw, you know that, and pretty much all I drew this summer was you,” he says, his cheeks tinting slightly pink. 

“Can I see it?” I ask, reaching out to place my palm on his chest. Mattheo smiles slightly and nods. 

“Anything for you, princess. Does that mean you forgive me?” 

“If you give me my book back,” I respond with a smirk. 

“Hm, how about this?” He says, mischievously, taking a step back. “I’ll give you your book back, if you let me walk you to wherever you’re going.” 

“You’re an idiot,” I laugh and shake my head as I take a step forward and press a quick kiss to his lips. I pull away and he has the biggest grin on his face. 

“Do we have a deal?” 

“Yes, fine whatever,” I laugh. 

“After you, Princess,” Mattheo gestures his arm out in an exaggerated move and I laugh, feeling significantly better than 15 minutes ago. 

a/n; welcome to Goblet of Fire year!!I changed the Trace rules a little btw so basically after you turn 18/finish OWLs, you are allowed to practice magic at home but the Trace stays on you so the Ministry can ensure responsibility (kind of like the restrictions when you first get your driver’s license in the US) and then once you graduate Hogwarts at 20, the trace is lifted fully. 

also ive always imagined harry and mia’s scars to look like actual bolts of lighting or the kinds of scars people get who have actually been struck by lightning and not like the scar in the movies. Idk ive just always thought that was a cooler concept

taglist; @purplegardenwhispers @somethingswiftandstyles @weasleyreidstyles @mayamonroem @girlbooklover555 @stxrszurzolo o @abaker74

[greenhousethree]

Goodbye 🥀

GoF Missing Moment. April Prompt 30 for @hinnymicrofic. (578 words)

Neville’s stepping on her toes again.

She avoids pulling a face this time. Determined, keeping up with the effortless poise surrounding her. 

Radiant, that’s the word Luna used in the Hogsmeade dress shop.

Because now she can see him, slouched beside her brother on the outskirts of the glossy dance floor.

Chin lifted, back straight, arms taut. They’d all practiced in the dorm, hoping for dates.

He was breathtaking in his dress robes for the entrance. Green, like his eyes. Doesn’t wear them well now, though, with a posture that wants to be anywhere else. She prefers his jeans, the red jumper he wears on weekends. Or his Quidditch kit.

This song’s something with a lilting beat, and they don’t keep proper time. She doesn’t mind, though. Hopes Neville’s comfortable in their conversation’s lull.

For the first dance, she considered pretending it was him she was with. But Neville’s taller, with hands too soft and slightly damp. Another sneaking thought: perhaps she’d spark something jealous.

Twirls away under his arm, back again. Radiant.

She knows Hermione’s right. Bristled, at first, when the truth was laid out, but there’s no sense in chasing what isn’t hers. 

Neville brims with excitement when the next song starts, the crowd around them singing along. The sixth and seventh years have elegant bodies that move the way adults should, no pudgy limbs or knobby knees. A dark-haired boy catches her eye for the third time. Ron’s year. Ravenclaw, she’s pretty sure.

She doesn’t look over again until the song finishes, red-faced and giggling from the pace. Ron and Hermione seem tense. He looks bored.

It’s easier to keep her gaze from that corner as the night continues. Neville fetches them bubbling drinks. A few boys compliment her robes. They find their friends, ditch their shoes, dance in a wide circle. She learns the Ravenclaw’s name.

When she notices he and Ron aren’t there, she doesn’t search.

The Weird Sisters leave her favorites for the finale. She bellows the words with the others, hair free from its twist. Radiant, still. Neville asks if she’s had a good time. She beams at him.

A twinge of pity as she searches the pile for her heels. Wondering if he ever lost that bored look.

Michael offers to walk her to the tower. They talk Quidditch, joke about Moody’s eye. She catches sight of his back as they go; he’s not with Parvati anymore.

Lying in bed, slightly giddy like after the World Cup. The soles of her feet are black, but it’s one-thirty and the shower queue is long.

She wonders if he might have danced, if he’d been with her instead. Wonders if her answer would be different if she’d walked back up alone.

Michael has a loping sort of grace, hazel eyes with an impish glint. Maybe she’ll sit facing the Ravenclaw table at breakfast. Wave to Luna for an excuse.

Staring at the moonlit ceiling, she feels herself letting it go in a way she never could. Lets go of the little girl who worshiped the boy she was destined for, scribbled about him to an unseen friend.

She was radiant tonight, all on her own. Surrounded by grown-ups in a glittering hall.

He wouldn’t have danced, she decides, and she’d have left like Parvati. The boy of her destiny doesn’t exist.

She rolls onto her side, eyelids heavy, tucks her arm beneath the pillow. Bids the savior with emerald eyes goodbye.

🎄

[noxtms]

THE FULL MOON HANGS HIGH OVER THE CAMPGROUNDS, silvery light cast over the neverending festivities down below. anyone under the illusion that the hogsmeade hippogriffs vs diagon dragons charity quidditch game would wrap up in good time and lead to a relaxing night away was sorely mistaken. in spite of the late hour, the celebrations - and for some, the drowning of sorrows - show no sign of stopping anytime soon. the burren is an isolated spot, even without factoring in the huge number of muggle deterrent charms and protective incantations cast over the area for one night only. wix who traveled from overseas or across the country have a rare freedom and are taking full advantage - it's equal parts loud and unruly, and the best fun that many have had since winter came. put enough people in a place and throw in copious amounts of alcohol ( and in a number of cases, something much stronger ) and you'll have trouble, but robed aurors that wander the crowds are quick to combat drunken disputes they happen across which in turn is allowing the more easygoing of partygoers to enjoy their night all the more. expectations were rather low, but the event is running better than anyone could have expected.  MURPHY MCNULLY of the wizarding wireless network is one of the unlucky number to have thrown in his lot with the hippogriffs. a schoolyard crush on rolanda hooch blinded him when it came to the bettering slips, and the modest fortune that he lost had been enough to make this grown man cry - quite a bit, actually, until a kind soul pressed a half empty bottle of firewhiskey into his hands and he started the process of acceptance. he's been making his way from tent to tent ( which is, in turn, like moving from party to party ) all night, accepting the kindness of strangers and moving on when their generosity runs dry. it's no wonder the poor guy needs the bathroom, but when the closest porta potty queue looks much too daunting for him and a quick glance around tells him that no one is paying that much mind to him, murphy darts between tents and heads for the edge of the campgrounds.  he stumbles over the uneven terrain of the burren, picking his way to a suitable distance and coming to a stop at an ancient, waist high stone wall. the cacophony of music and laughter and all round good cheer hides the sound of a zipper, and murphy tries to sing along to one of the songs he recognises in the din, as he goes - he's so drunk the words run together, but he's having a mighty good time. bladder emptied, he zips himself back up, now humming, and hears a low grumble. his stomach, he thinks. "too full of firewhiskey," he laughs to himself, too drunk to take much notice of the hairs stood up at the back of his neck, "not enough soakage." he turns to go, and there it is again. the telltale grumble. or… he frowns. a growl? he twists back around, and the last thing that murphy mcnully sees before the world turns wet and red is two yellow eyes glinting in the moonlight and the flash of jaws full of huge, pointy teeth. it lunges, and on a nearby hill another wolf lifts their head to the sky to let out a mournful howl, and the pack descends.

TRIGGER WARNINGS for death, injury, animal death, anxiety, assault, blood, body imagery, fire imagery, gore.

the gathered crowds confuse the first screams of abject terror for more joyful rowdiness, only realising the nightmare they have stumbled into when they catch their first glimpse of the wolves that move with inhuman speed - the teeth, the eyes, the stinking, matted fur. worse, still ( if only because the horror of them is so much easier to digest in the moment ) are the hooded figures that begin to pop up from place to place. as if things weren't already bad, the death eaters have arrived. the smart ones apparate without a second thought. MARCUS, at one end of the campground, is gone with a pop before the situation has fully sunken into their alcohol adled mind. others, like the MALFOY'S, rush out of their tents in their nightclothes, disoriented, and take a second to let it all wash over them. they disappear, too, but only after they've grabbed their peacocks. 

it really is just VIKTOR'S luck that he would put himself out there and run into one of the more unfortunate cases of deja vu. bleary eyed when he emerges from his tent, he only narrowly avoids the vivid purple spell that sails over his head and collides with a cabinet inside, sending wood splinters and glass scattering and waking DAMARIS from where they dozed. the next curse draws blood when it grazes his arm and he drops to the ground, the same as his unlikely companion who has slid all the way off his couch and thrown their hands protectively over their head, kneeling in the shattered glass. "what the fuck is happening?" they shout, but viktor doesn't know. 

ANDIE, holding her crying son in her arms, abandons the fire pit when a misjudged protective spell explodes into the middle of it, sending sparks flying over all that had gathered around. she gets caught up in the sea of wix stampeding in one direction and can't immediately find an opening to get out or a safe space to apparate. 

following their immediate instinct to just duck and take cover beneath a closed up, wooden stall ultimately does TEMPEST no good ; they're smart, but the penchant for utter, mindless destruction that the death eaters have trumps that every time. one of the hooded figures hits the wooden structure with expulso, not even to target them but just because it adds to the growing chaos. they only realise someone is cowering underneath it when the now brightly burning, collapsing structure draws a shrill scream from the wix caught below. 

throwing up an invisible block in the doorway of their tent the minute that chaos unfolded was definitely a good idea and saves them some initial trouble, but DUDLEY is the first to realise the other sort of danger that they have landed themselves into when smoke starts billowing out from the rooms at the back of the tent. "GINNY-" he starts, wide eyed and taking several steps back, whatever warning he was going to give interrupted by her shout of "fuck!" as she rushes past him, leaving DRACO alone to hold the barrier in place. her cry of aguamenti does little to douse the flames she can only barely see through thick, black smoke. she tries to put them out in vain while it continues to funnel into the tent, stinging their eyes and coating their lungs with every breath, until dudley grabs her upper arm and tugs her away. "it's no use," he tells her, through a cough, "we have to leave." he's right, of course. arms held over their mouths as they return to the front of the tent, a bead of sweat runs down draco's forehead from both rising heat and the pressure of holding the barrier, alone. "ready to go?" he asks them, to no reply ; ginny grabs a hand each, and they disappear with a pop. 

assuming that JUSTIN is close at their heels and with ISMENE holding tightly to her hand, ANTIGONE'S only thought is to get back to her van and get her dog. they were among the lucky ones - they hadn't been caught up at the heart of the campgrounds when everything went to hell, and has instead been hanging around the edges of the parties. they were ready to head back and get some sleep, but unwilling to be the first to leave. they are both so full of hope, so close to where they parked in the carpark when antigone turns to glance over her shoulder that it feels so stupid to stop at all, though of course they were always going to when she realises, with a jolt, that justin isn't behind them after all. ismene tries to tug her on as she opens her mouth to shout for him, but everything moves so fast - a furred body launches itself over a ford fiesta and lands heavy on top of them both, jaws snapping, and what comes out of her next is nothing but a wordless scream.

limping from an ankle that he twisted in his haste to get through the panicked crowd, OSKAR meets ELIZA at the flap of her tent and shoves her all the way back in again. "is elena-" with her fingers now knotted up in the sleeve of his shirt, she shakes her head. it's a relief. her husband appears in a doorway with a barely awake ezra holding on tight around his neck, face buried in his shoulder. "is it-" he begins to ask, but oskar interrupts, "it's bad. we have to go." a ground shaking explosion at that exact moment forces them to quicker action, and eliza pulls oskar towards the rest of her family so that when they apparate, they do it together.

( the explosion itself is one of the stronger cases for a person having 'just downright rotten luck' documented, in recent years. GRACE, dragging ASTORIA by her jacket towards the auror detainment tent with the promise that safety awaits, has no way of predicting the freak accident she ultimately involves them both in - she counters spells she sees zipping past with a quick protego, has barely caught a glimpse of a wolf since it all kicked off, is managing, just barely, to keep her cool… but when a powerful reducto from a stranger in the crowd collides with the gas tanks behind an abandoned food truck, the resulting explosion throws EVERYONE in the immediate vicinity backwards with painful force, searing their eyebrows and knocking them out without them ever really understanding what happened, in the first place )

on the other side of the campgrounds, a stupefy collides with the ground at MINETTE'S feet, only narrowly missing her. she lets out a terrified squeak and twists to face the hooded figure that targeted her, throwing a leg lock curse at them without taking the time to properly aim and parrying the spell they throw back at her with a protego. her shield sends it flying into a nearby tent - not the first casualty, not the last - and though it's luckily empty, her distraction in that moment after it hits is all it takes for them to hit her with a body bind. she falls with a strangled sort of yell, and the next sensation her body feels is blistering pain beneath a vengeful crucio. 

finally managing to break away from the crowd, ANDIE darts between two tents and turns left, weaving her way through temporary homes. her mind is blank with panic - she knows she should be apparating, but marco's cries in her ear tell her that it's a danger to do so with him so upset and all she's really trying to do, in this moment, is put as much distance between them and the wolves and the wayward spells as possible. of course, she realises she should've just risked it when the wolf jumps into her path, hackles raised, teeth stripped. she jumps so violently that marco lets out another loud cry, and as she starts to back up, the wolf follows. "please…" she sobs, "please don't hurt us…" the wolf, showing understanding, continues forward. "please-" an explosion of blue sparks from an off course spell cascades over them from where it collides with the outside of a tent, and she seizes the momentary distraction to turn on her heel and run. 

"oh, merlin-" seeing TEMPEST struggle beneath the weight of the burning, wooden debris of what was once a stall, MARIETTA rushes into action. her aguamenti does little to douse the roaring, magical flames, so she gives up before she wastes too much precious time and just grabs their hands and starts to pull while they use whatever purchase they can find in the ground beneath them to try and help. the debris doesn't want to let go of them, but after a few long moments of desperate pulling, an almighty tug gets them free - their clothes singed, smoking, actually smoldering from the fire that had been licking so dangerously close to them. marietta, for what it's worth, does more than just force them to roll around. she also violently smacks at where the smoke seems most likely to burst into flame with her bare hands, only stopping when she's absolutely sure the danger has passed. 

JUSTIN had gotten caught by the crowd. that was all. he had started hot on the heels of the xu's, but the rushing wix had cut him off halfway along the journey. when he tripped, he was forced to his knees. when he got stuck close at the ground, he was stuck there, unable to push himself back to standing or press ahead, forcefully frozen in place by the sea of wix that were so desperate to get away that they don't realise he's even there. he tries, he tries so hard, but when a knee collides with his forehead, his body folds in on itself - leaving him vulnerable to the heavy footfall of a panicked crowd. 

she was lucky enough not to experience the last time a quidditch celebration turned deadly, but she's probably heard all about it, by now. CARA is at a distinct disadvantage to everyone else, lost in the crowd and being unable to apparate out - she's heard stories of werewolves, heard the truth about death eaters, but she's not interested in combating either. she just wants to get safe, and when the going gets especially rough… "mum!" she weaves her way through the crowd of wix, screaming so loudly her voice is sure to go hoarse, "mum!" 

"PANSY-" is the last word that she hears before the werewolf that suddenly appears in their path leaps and THEO shoves her out of the way with all of his strength. he makes himself the target, though the wolf doesn't care which one of them it crashes into with enough force to send them both flying backwards into the nearest, wooden stall, a mess of both their limbs. pansy's scream of terror catches in her throat as she hits the ground hard enough to see stars, and she fights against every instinct that she has to just lay there and catch her breath to instead scramble for her wand and force herself back up again, blood running cold at the thought that she can only ever be too late. "theo!" she shrieks, rushing to where they have fallen and taking careless aim - it's a gamble of the worst kind, but somehow, her depulso lands true. the werewolf atop him gets thrown away into another stall as pansy throws herself over him in its place, apparating them away before it can get its bearings and come back for them, again. 

another spell that seems to have been fired directly at theme explodes in the fireplace that he had been allowing die, and with a loud "fuck this!" DAMARIS is gone. he can't say he doesn't understand, but with a little bit more of an emotional investment in his tent - and temporary home - VIKTOR doesn't immediately follow suit. still crouched low, a hand held over the gushing wound on his arm, he rushes over to douse the fire. glass cracks underfoot. he succeeds, but his relief is short lived, quickly replaced by the cold rushing of blood in his veins when he hears a snapping of jaws from behind him. to his credit, he doesn't take the time to look it in the eye. turning on the spot, viktor disappears the instant before the wolf's body collided with his own - he can still smell their rotting breath when he lands a few miles away, in safety. 

"get OFF-" SEAMUS, an arm broken by a stray curse hanging awkwardly at his side, roars. he was almost free of it all. almost out of the danger zone entirely when he stumbles on the most horrifying of scenes - two bloodied figures, strangers to him in the moment, a lone werewolf stood tall and tearing into them. he rushes toward the danger without pausing to think about whether he even should, if they're even still alive, drawing the attention of the wolf. it turns quicker than he thinks possible, but seamus is quick, too - his powerful expulso fueled by pain and fear sends the wolf flying into the night, crashing over the roof of a car, and though he gives it half a breath before he runs towards the XU'S, it doesn't come back again. 

CHO, who had already lost sight of her friends before the campgrounds went full chaos, isn't exactly looking for them - she's just trying to get away, same as everyone else. when a wolf lunges from the darkness and sinks their teeth into a strangers leg, she screams as loudly as they do and turns all the way around, running full pelt in the opposite direction. it is sheer chance that she happens on the same path as MINETTE, more of the same that a glance over her shoulder to make sure she isn't being followed results in her running full force into the death eater holding the other under crucio. their concentration is broken when they fall with cho in a tangle of limbs, but in the scrambling that they both do away from one another, the masked figure is quicker. they slash downwards with their wand and pain erupts, stemming from a large wound opened in cho's chest. she falls to her knees and, realising how exposed they now are, the death eater turns heel and runs. 

ANDIE trips over a tent peg. it's as simple and as utterly damning as that. she trips and falls with a cry, her ankle throbbing, and marco goes down with her. she doesn't know how long she has, and she still isn't thinking straight. her mind is clouded by terror, ten times worse for the fact that when she tries to get back to her feet, her ankle protests so badly she knows there's no point. "marco, baby, you have to run," she sobs, tears streaming down both their cheeks, "go. please, marco, go-" unfortunately, it isn't her pleading that he listens to. the deep growl of the wolf still in pursuit sends him running, and despite her terror - and the white hot pain that blossoms suddenly from her leg - andie is relieved. 

"ginny?!" ARTHUR shouts as loud as he can, pushing his way in the opposite direction of the moving crowd, making his way slowly - but absolutely surely - towards where he knows she pitched her tent. his robes ripped at the knee and sporting a nasty cut over one eye, he's already seen some of the worst of what's happening here but his main priority, as always, is his daughter. he's close enough, now, to spot a flash of red through the crowd. flames, he realises. flames, licking the sky. his heart feels like its going to burst out of his chest as he pushes through the final wall of people between him and his destination and he comes face to face with the stuff of nightmares. "ginny!" his voice cracks with the force of her name, and arthur doesn't hesitate - he charges forward through the opening at the front of the tent, headfirst into the smoke and fire. 

meanwhile, on the opposite side of the campgrounds, MARY collides with her daughter. she wraps her arms around her, protectively, and tugs her out of the still rushing crowd into a relatively safe pocket of calm at the edge of the beaten track, between two different stalls. CARA gives a terrified squeak and then relaxes - total trust in total chaos. "mum-" she cries, but mary knows better than most how little time they have in a situation as dire as this and has already ripped her wand from her shaking hand. "mum?" she asks, and mary holds her closer still with one arm, getting a feel for her wand with her other hand. "this is going to hurt," she tells her, solemnly, and then for the first time in twenty five years, mary apparates. for what it's worth, she's right. 

since the events of the derby, MARCO'S mother had tried to instill in him the idea that if he ever got lost like that again, he was to look for the nearest auror and stay with them until she came for him. terrified by what he's seen, tonight, he doesn't do it - but in a manner of speaking, he manages it all the same. it isn't an auror that finds him hunched down beneath the wooden counter of an abandoned food stall, but when MIKAELA finally inches her way into a clearing where once stood a now smoldering tent and comes face to face with ARTURO, she does so with the little boy held tightly in her arms.

"thank merlin-" she gasps, breaking into a short run to get to him faster without a single or second thought. he grabs onto them both, a desperate hug that lasts a few moments longer than is wise, in their current situation. 

"are you okay?" he asks, and though she gives a nod, he pulls her back and holds her at arms length anyways to check her and marco over, rambling all the while, "you haven't been hurt? where did you find him? you weren't bitten? the death eaters-" 

"we have to get out of here, right now-" 

"i know. you're right. we can apparate a few miles out, see if anyone's seen and-" there is a brief flash of red, bright as a flare, over his shoulder. arturo's eyes go blank and his body goes slack, stupefied from behind. she cries out as he loses balance, trying her hardest to keep him upright but finding herself entirely unable to support his weight with a quietly sobbing marco still held close to her. he falls and she adjusts the little boy, taking hold of him better with one arm so that she can raise her wand and defend herself against the death eater that targeted arturo, though instead-

a grey wolf, larger than any of the others that she caught a glimpse of in all of this chaos, stalks out of the shadows, one large paw after the other. intelligent, yellow eyes size her up. its lips peel back from its teeth in a vicious, warning growl, and mikaela is glad for the poor lighting - something viscous hangs from its canines, but if it's all over quick enough she'll never have to know exactly what.

"stay back," she tells it, aiming for bossy even as her palms sweat. she could run. she could apparate, even, risk the splinching just to get away - she'd probably make it, and better they're alive sans a finger or two than hold onto them all and be dead, but arturo… he decides everything for her. she holds her wand higher. "i don't want to hurt you," she says, trying to sound every bit as confident and as frightening as niko does when he puts voice to the horrid thoughts inside his head. 

the wolf steps forward again, unconvinced. marco buries his head further into the crook of her shoulder. 

"it's your last chance." 

it leans in. head low. hackles raised. a low grumble comes from deep within its chest. she's seen dogs like it, before, fighting in the street. she knows it's going to lunge, thinks it'll be faster than i can ever be, and then it DOES, and she shouts "avada-"

she knows it'll be close, too close to call, too close to know until one of them hits the ground-

the sickly green of a killing curse lands true, striking the wolf. it drops like a puppet whose strings have been cut into an unceremonious heap, crumpling to the floor as a man, not a beast. his unkempt silver hair is matted. his shrewd eyes unseeing. it wasn't mikaela's curse.

around her, dozens of figures pop into being. aurors and hit wix, the lot of them, hitting the ground running and rushing towards the chaos of elsewhere, their wands held high and at the ready. some of them slow down as they pass the body of the man, their eyes widening in recognition before they shake themselves from their shock and head off to get a hold of the situation. one girl falls to her knees beside arturo to cast the counterspell ; somehow she is able to manage relief when she sees his eyes, fluttering.

mikaela wraps her other arm back around marco, protectively, and turns to face her father. he keeps his wand held in his first when he closes the distance and performs an almost step by step imitation of her reunion from moments before - pulls her close, pushes her back, takes a good, long look at her, over her. 

she opens her mouth.

he cuts her off. "i told you."

ROUNDUP OF DAMAGES, INJURIES & FATALITIES :

by the time the aurors and general do gooders have everything under control, again, and the werewolves and death eaters have disappeared into the night, the campground is almost entirely levelled. anyone who didn't grab their belongings before they got out will likely not be able to find them, come morning, be it because their tent was burned to the ground or because the crowd stampeded over them. the death toll starts at ten, but climbs to thirty one as bodies are found and victims succumb to their injuries over the days that immediately follow. curiously, there are no deaths that can be attributed to the killing curse aside from that of FENRIR GREYBACK, who was killed by the minister of magic himself in defense of his daughter.

andie macnair is found by aurors and taken to st mungo's, quickly ; she was seriously injured and will need to spend a few days on a ward to fully recover. the bite to her leg was treated with dittany mixed with silver which has closed it, but she will be cursed with lycanthropy from this point onward.

antigone & ismene xu are in critical condition at st mungo's. if either survive, they will be cursed with lycanthropy.

arthur weasley had already suffered quite serious burns and smoke inhalation by the time he realised the tent was empty and passed out before he could get out - he would've burned to death had he not sent his patronus out and had it spotted by an auror, who dove in and dragged him out. he was taken from the scene and taken to st mungo's where he will need to spend several days, recovering.

arturo de la rosa suffered some minor injury but is mostly shook by the experience.

astoria greengrass suffered serious injury in the explosion that claimed lives and is lucky to be alive. she is removed from the scene and taken to st mungo's where she will have to spend several days to fully recover.

cara macdonald was badly splinched when she was apparated out and will need to seek treatment in st mungo's, though aside from this, she is mostly just shaken.

cho chang suffered serious injury from an unidentified curse that was thrown at her during the chaos and was taken to st mungo's from the scene, where she will have to spend at least the night having copious amounts of dittany applied to the gaping wound.

damaris vector is more shaken, than anything. they suffered a few minor scapes to their hands and knees, but apparated out before it could get any worse.

dudley dursley suffered minor smoke inhalation but got out quick and is more shaken by the experience than anything else.

eliza fawley ( and her husband and son ) are shaken, but unscathed.

ginny weasley (and draco malfoy ) suffered minor smoke inhalation but got out quick and are more shaken by the experience than anything else.

grace moody suffered serious injury in the explosion that claimed lives and is lucky to be alive. she is removed from the scene and taken to st mungo's where she will have to spend several days to fully recover.

justin finch-fletchley suffered serious injury when he was crushed beneath the crowd and is taken from the scene to st mungo's, where he will have to spend several days to fully recover.

marcus flint apparated out immediately and is unscathed.

marietta edgecombe suffered some minor burns to her hands, but is mostly unscathed.

mary macdonald was badly splinched when she apparated out and will need to seek treatment in st mungo's, though aside from this, she is also mostly just shaken.

mikaela karkaroff ( and marco macnair ) are badly shaken but mostly unscathed.

minette merrythought is badly shaken by her time beneath the cruciatus, but can be treated for shock on the scene. she's advised to have a stiff drink when she gets home, to further calm her nerves.

narcissa malfoy ( and her husband, plus a couple peacocks ) apparated out immediately and are unscathed.

oskar catchlove sprained his ankle in the chaos but can have this seen by an on site healer.

pansy parkinson suffered a minor concussion when she hit the ground, but is relatively unscathed. she's lucky that theo was there.

seamus finnigan broke his arm after he was hit by a stray curse, but has his choice ; he can take a shot of skele-gro on the scene and deal with it himself or seek treatment at st mungo's, where he will be fully observed overnight.

tempest clearwater has sustained minor burns, cuts and bruises from the stall that was collapsed on top of them ; they will need to spend a night in st mungo's to be properly treated.

theodore nott is miraculously unbitten but suffered serious cuts and bruising when he crashed into a wooden stall ; he will have to seek treatment in st mungo's and spend at least one night, for observation.

viktor krum was grazed by a ribboning curse and has suffered quite a serious injury to his upper arm. this can be taken care of with an administration of dittany by healers on scene.

OUT OF CHARACTER :

this marks the end of our charity quidditch game event ! no new event based starters should be posted from here on out, but you can feel free to continue any threads you began over the last few weeks and are welcome to transition to the aftermath.

[clare-with-no-i]

So I’ve a question that’s to do with “apparition points”: I understand they’re intended to prevent people from suddenly appearing in the spot where another person is walking/standing, which I find to be a rather noble intention, but it seems like that also has the unintended effect of significantly increasing the odds of two people apparating into the same spot at the same time. I’m a computer scientist, and this is what we in the ‘biz call a race condition—when a single resource (e.g a file on your hard drive/SSD) is claimed simultaneously by two independent processes, and then process A writes “hello from process A” and process B writes “goodbye from process B,” what is the final contents of the file? Well, since there is only actually one instance of the file on the disk, it depends on whose write gets processed last. Since the processes are unaware of each other’s existence, it would obviously be disastrous if things were allowed to play out like this in the real world. The way this non-deterministic behavior is handled in almost every case is that some third actor (in this case, the operating system—Windows, macOS, Linux, etc) ensures that only one process is able to access the file at a time. If process B tries to open and write to a file while process A is still doing so, the OS kernel effectively tells process B to go sit in timeout (the scheduler queue) and wait its turn.

All of this is to ask, who provides that guarantee for “apparition points”? There must be someone/something a wizard/witch has to query so that they may claim exclusive access to a specific location, preventing anyone else from accidentally apparating into them (and presumably causing bad things to happen because two people occupy the same space), but who is that actor? Further, for busy locations (e.g: the Quidditch World Cup), it is conceivable that there may be a pretty long queue to claim these apparaition points, at which point it may be faster to commute via another transportation method altogether.

I’m pretty tipsy rn, so apologies if this delves too far into technicalities, but as someone who I’ve noticed puts a lot of thought into this kind of logistics/world building stuff, do you have any thoughts on it?

ok after what must have been 20 mins of staring at this, I'm sorry to say that the only thing I can really tell you is that it's likely one of those things where you shrug and go, "it's magic!" — I sort of picture it like a subway stop, insofar as people disperse and make room for the people getting off the train and filter in, and vice versa. I chatted with suze about this and she gave the important insight that maybe you can just apparat on top of people, "given the state of magical britain" lol. which I do agree with.

but honestly I haven't put nearly as much thought into this as you have…I commend you for it, and fear you slightly. but in a respectful way.

[rockingrobin69]

25 days of Draco and Harry 2021

A very-mini-story about loving, being loved, realising it, and buying lots of crap. Featuring: an insecure, oblivious Harry in an established relationship (our boy is going through some things, all right?), pretty much all the regular cast, and... yeah, Draco, too, somewhere. He’s bound to show up at some point. 

A small chapter a day, lots of fluff and holiday and love. 

Thank you so much to the mods for creating a fest that’s so chill, even I manage to take part in it! 

Read Of Quests, Queues and Quiet Nights on AO3 here!  

Or read chapter 1 after the cut: 

December 1st 

You could say it was his own fault. In part, it was. Not like Harry didn’t know Christmas was coming—not like he hadn’t felt it sneaking up on him, same as every year, just when he least had time for it. With work, and Teddy, and Molly going bat-shit over copious amounts of Yorkshire puddings, it was hardly any surprise when Harry found himself days away from it, anxious out of his wits. Because—god, it was terrifying to admit: Harry didn’t have a present for Draco yet.

Yes, he knew it was terrible. Yes, he realised it was Draco, the one person who couldn’t care more about it. Yes, he very much understood that Draco would never forgive him unless he came up with something perfect, and exactly on time. Only, the calendar was showing something extremely wonky (December? Already?), and Harry still had nothing.

To make matters worse, Draco was the best gift giver in the world. He once got Harry a memory of a Quidditch game his father played in his seventh year, complete with Sirius and Remus cheering like crazy in the stands. Which, come on, unfair. How was Harry ever going to top that? The year after that he got Harry the only pyjamas he ever wore (the softest thing in the world, after Draco’s hair); then Harry’s favourite set of china, the one that made him feel like an adult whenever he used; then that beautiful, intricate light display that made him choke on tenderness. And they weren’t even together then. Draco was a god at gift-giving, and Harry… er. He meant well. But he never got it right.

It was terrible; Draco would always get the most amazing presents from his family and his Slytherin friends, big, impressive things he liked to put on display and brag about. And Harry’s presents—always accepted with a smile, of course—were shoved in the back closet, never to be seen again. Not that Harry really cared; he wasn’t the jealous type, and it was all just materialistic bullshit, anyway. But Draco cared. And it would be great to give him something he truly, really loved. Because… well, because Harry truly, really loved him. And he was possibly, maybe ready to say it, even. But he won’t ever get the chance if Draco kicked him out of their flat when Harry showed up on Christmas day empty handed.

And so, as time ran out frighteningly fast, Harry decided he had to get his shit together. Yes, he’s made this resolution before, and not to great success. But this time he was plenty motivated, so maybe—maybe, this time it will work.

God, he hoped it will.

[seriouslysam8]

Hello Sam, I have been gone for a while and that I’m back I just went through your Tumblr. OMG I love the idea of you writing your AU of the HP books. I can not wait to read your work!

I loved the idea of giving the characters different professions than canon. Ginny as a writer will be excellent because I think that's her thing except playing Quidditch. Can you imagine if she was a Quidditch player but publishing her books under a different name because she doesn't want people to buy her books for her fame.

Also, Harry being a pediatric healer. Knowing him, it will be still stressful because trouble follows him everywhere 😂 I can imagine parents (mostly mums) taking their kids to him to look at him even though they are not sick. But when they are sick, he will do anything to cure them. I think he will be very emotionally invested. Now that I think about it, will it be a good idea for a person who grew up an orphan, in an abusive household, and his parents died to save him to become a paediatrician?? He would sacrifice everything for them.

And Ron, hahaha, whoever gave the idea of him being a baker is a genius. 😂 he will love that and be amazing at it. Who better to be a baker or cook than someone who loves food. I just imagined Ginny mentioning in an interview that her favourite cake is from her brother’s bakery and fans queueing the next day to buy it. And Ron being pissed off (not really) because they start calling it ‘Ginny’s cake’ or something like that 😂😂

I just realised that this ask is getting to long. I will probably write to you another day again. 😂

Hope your baby is feeling better ☺️

Toad 🐸

So many AU ideas!! I wish I had all the time in the world to write them all. 😂😂😂

Although, Auror Harry will always have my heart!!

The baby is doing a lot better. Thank you!

[kalimagik]

You Are My Home

Ron Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Abusive father, alcoholism 

A/N: This lil fic was requested by @obsessedwithrandomthings <3 Congrats on 300 love! The prompts were “kiss me” and “you make me feel safe.” My requests are OPEN! and there is a prompt list somewhere on my dash if you’d like to request something. I was planning on posting this 2 hours ago, but tumblr got annoying and deleted it from my queue. So reblog, comment, like, all that fun stuff pleasssse! Feedback always welcome! Happy reading! 

Not my GIF - credit to owner

Summers at the Burrow were always crazy, but relaxing at the same time. Molly gave her children chores each day, but there was plenty of time for playing quidditch, pranking, and roaming around the muggle village nearby.

While Hogwarts brought excitement and adventure, the Burrow brought time for rejuvenation, well that was when the twins weren’t picking on Ron. But, it was home. It was where he felt the most comfortable, especially when Harry and Hermione were around. Yep, summers at the Burrow were the best place for a kid to grow up.

*Knock, knock, knock*

Being the last one awake, Ron slid off the couch and crept to the door. Ron glanced at the real clock on his way through the kitchen, which read 11:30. Who could be knocking this late at night?

Ron swung the door open to come face to face with Y/N L/N. She was definitely more Ginny’s friend than his, but she was always kind to him and vice versa. And, if he was being honest, he always did have a crush on her. She was so full of life and brightened the lives of everyone who knew her.

“Uhhh, hi. I’m sorry. I was hoping to catch Ginny. But now that I’m realizing what time it is, I realize that that was a silly notion.”

Y/N wouldn’t meet Ron’s eyes, but he could hear the shakiness and uneven vibrato in her voice. When she sniffled, he knew that she had been crying.

“I should go,” she whispered, turning from Ron.

“No, wait. Why don’t you come in. It’s late. I don’t even know how you got here, but it probably wasn’t easy.”

Y/N just nodded and stepped through the doorway. She stood in the kitchen, looking like she didn’t really know what to do, but Ron watched as she timidly wiped her eyes. He knew she was trying to hide whatever she was feeling.

“Are you okay?” Ron blurted out. He couldn’t stand seeing her hear like this.

“I don’t want to bother you with it. Would it be okay if I just waited down here for Ginny? You don’t have to wait up with me, I can just sleep on the couch.”

“No, you can sleep in my room. I’ll sleep on the couch.” If she didn’t want to talk to him, that was fine, but there was no way that he was letting her sleep on that lumpy couch in the living room.

“I don’t want to put you out.” This was not her, not at all.

“You won’t be. I’m sure of it. You may just have to mind the ghoul in the attic,” Ron warned with an airy chuckle. “I’m the room on the top floor. You can’t go any further. Go ahead up. There are t-shirts in the top drawer, you can use one of those for bed.”

Y/N just nodded before turning to walk up the stairs. Before she could get out of Ron’s sight, she paused and looked back at him. “Thank you, Ron,” she said quietly. Even though there weren’t many words, Ron knew that his actions meant the world to her, he could just feel it.

Once he was sure that Y/N was in bed, Ron got comfortable on the couch or as comfortable as he could. He stared at the ceiling wondering why Y/N had just shown up like that. Molly would have no problem with her being there, but it was still strange.

Ron woke up to Ginny, Fred, and George standing over him.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Fred grinned.

“Fall asleep dreaming about a mermaid?” George teased.

“Shove off,” Ron groaned as he rolled over.

“Why are you down here anyways?” Ginny questioned.

At that, Ron shot up, Y/N. “Gin, I think you might want to go up to my room.”

“I’m NOT dealing with the Ghoul again, Ronald.”

“No, no, no. I didn’t sleep down here because of a ghoul. Y/N showed up late last night. She seemed upset. I told her to sleep in my room.” Ginny was out of the room before Ron could even finish his sentence. Her footsteps pounded loudly on the steps. If anyone was still sleeping in the house, they weren’t anymore.

“What do you think that was about?” George wondered out loud.

“Girls are strange beings…” Fred followed, shaking his head.

Ron followed the twins into the kitchen for breakfast, constantly looking at the stairs for Ginny and Y/N’s feet. Breakfast was filled with jokes from the twins and Percy telling them off.

“MUUUUM!” Ginny called from up the stairs, maybe about halfway up.

Ron watched intently for any sign as Molly rushed up the stairs. She didn’t even question it. She had to know that Y/N was in the house by now. Why was he feeling so uneasy about this? Playing with his eggs until Molly emerged again.

“Well dears, it seems that we will be having a guest for the next few weeks,” Molly smiled as she pulled out another plate and set of utensils. “Ronald, you could have woken me up when she arrived last night,” Molly informed him.

“Sorry. You went up so long before she got here,” Ron tried to explain.

“Wittle Ronnikins gave his room up to the pretty girl,” Fred mocked.

“She needed it. You don’t get it.” Ron spat back at him. Ron didn’t know why, but he felt the need to protect her. He needed to pave the path for everything to be alright with her.

“Good morning again,” Ginny said, announcing her re-arrival downstairs.

Ron whipped around fast enough to see Y/N coming down the stairs behind Ginny, smiling timidly at the family she knew so well. This just so wasn’t like her.

“How’d you sleep?” he found himself asking in spite of himself. Maybe he should have just kept quiet.

“Well, thank you. But you can have your bed back. I’m going to stay in with Ginny.” She smiled at him, well what seemed like a genuine smile. Maybe last night was just a fluke and she would be her normal self by this afternoon.

“Y/N, dear. Have some breakfast. I will send an owl to Arthur and tell him to pick up your things.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.” Something still seemed off about her. Ron looked up slightly, but not enough for his brothers to catch him. He watched her slowly eat the food placed in front of her. He watched the twinge of pain shoot across her face when she turned too quickly to respond to something Percy said. He watched her.

He watched and noticed things in the weeks following the night of her arrival too. She was happier each day, growing more comfortable and relaxed in a way that someone could only do at the Burrow. Ron started spending more time with her too. She would offer to help them all with their chores and some days Ron got lucky. She’d help him all day. She was her playful self. Spraying water at him while they tended to the garden, keeping the clippers out of his reach. It was all the Y/N he was used too.

Ron even got to spend some late nights talking to her. Like him, she was a night owl. She’d stay up until she was practically falling asleep next to him on the couch or outside on the grass. She was at her cutest when she was tired, giggling and trying to keep her eyes open for as long as possible. Ron just adored it.

It was another one of those nights when just Ron and Y/N were still awake with everyone else asleep. Ron sat with his back against the couch and bum on the floor. Y/N had been sitting next to him until she became more tired. She slid towards the floor and laid her head on Ron’s lap, looking up at him.

“You’re beautiful,” he blurted out before he knew what had possessed him. It was just those eyes…Those sleepy, sparkling, beautiful eyes.

“Thank you, Ronald,” Y/N smiled, not really processing what he said.

“Can I ask you something?” Ron continued, not minding that she hadn’t said anything more.

“If you want to ask if you can have a rematch on the quidditch pitch tomorrow, the answer is yes,” she giggled.

“I will take you up on that,” Ron grinned, “but that wasn’t what I was going to ask.”

“Okay, shoot,” Y/N responded as she adjusted on his lap.

“I’ve been wondering this for a while, but when you came here a month or so ago, you were crying. You weren’t yourself. I don’t want to pry or push you, but what was wrong?” Ron felt the confidence leave him as he asked the question. Maybe he should let the reason stay her secret.

Y/N tensed, he could feel it. She was thinking and then sat up, criss cross applesauce, now facing Ron. “I guess I do owe you an explanation, you were so kind to not push me then. I would still be wondering too if I was you.” She rambled. She was still beautiful when she rambled.

“I knew that the Burrow was a safe place. Ginny has always been like a sister to me. I couldn’t be at home anymore. M-my, my dad, he- he drinks…a lot. It’s just me and him at home usually. Mum died when I was little, but I-I think you knew that. Anyways, that’s too much information.”

Y/N took a deep breath before she continued. “So, he drinks. And it just got out of hand that night. I hide it well, bu-but he can hurt me. He doesn’t always use his hands. Sometimes it's with magic, but I was hiding in my room that night. I swear he loves me. He’s my father. I just remind him of mum and it sets him off- I guess? I don’t know. I shouldn’t defend him.” She shook her head as she looked at her hands in her lap.

Ron just took in her words and the grace that she had while telling him her story. How could she be so calm? He felt the rage begin to rise in his chest. No one- No One, should ever want to do anything to harm Y/N. His fists clenched against his sides, but he tried to hide it, even though it could be read clearly across his face.

“But, I managed to get away and grabbed a broom and this is the first place I thought of. Before I knew it, I was at your door and knocking.”

Ron nodded to show he understood and was listening, but he was boiling over.

“I told Ginny the next morning and insisted I tell your mum, even though I didn’t want to. When your mum found out the basis of my situation, she essentially ordered me to stay with you all. I couldn’t say no, but I’m happy she did. This has been one of the best summer holidays I have ever had.” A smile crossed her lips as she thought of the weeks that she had spent in the Burrow.

“You can stay here as long as you want.” Ron told her, straight faced. He didn’t want that man coming anywhere near her again, whether or not he was her father.

“Thanks, Ron. Your mum said the same thing. I like it here…a lot.”

“You can stay here forever even. All school holidays, summer holidays, all of them.”

“I have to go back at some point, Ron.”

“No you don’t,” Ron argued. “You never have too.”

“Okay.” Her words didn’t seem like an agreement, but an understanding. “I’m going to go to bed now, okay? Thank you for listening.” As she stood up, she leaned down to kiss Ron’s cheek. “Good night,” she said softly as she made her way upstairs to Ginny’s room.

Ron sat in the stillness of the living room. He slowly lifted his hand to his cheek. It burned with the blush left from her kiss.

Growing used to the routine with Y/N at the house, Ron adjusted his own to spend even more time with her. Some would even argue that she was starting to spend more time with Ron than with Ginny. They were growing closer and closer and Ron felt like he may combust if his feelings for her grew any larger. He was falling, falling harder than he could ever imagine. His crush was so much more than a crush on the happy, free-spirited girl that was friends with Ginny. He loved that version of her, but also the her he got to know in the evenings and the her that could let loose like no one was watching. He loved all of her.

Then, one morning he woke up later than usual. He’d been kept awake by the soft explosions from the twins’ room and the thoughts about Y/N swirling in his head. When he came down the stairs, Y/N’s bags were all packed at the door.

“What’s going on? Are we going somewhere?” Ron asked as he rubbed his eyes.

“Y/N’s going home.” Ginny replied with a straight face and angry eyes watching the front door closely.

“She’s what? Where is she?”

“Her dad showed up early this morning demanding to see her.” Ginny spit out. Ron could tell she was infuriated.

“Where is she?”

“Outside. He wanted to talk to her.”

“Did anything seem off about him?” Ron’s mind began racing. What if he did something to her? Ron had to be there to protect her.

He flew through the door that Ginny had been watching so intently. He ignored his sister as she called saying that Y/N’s father said not to follow. He tore through the garden that he had tended to so many times with her and past the Weasley’s makeshift quidditch pitch. He ran all the way to the edge of the trees on the property. The moment Y/N spoke, he could pick her voice out of the normal outside noises.

“No. I want to stay here, Dad. Please!”

“You’re coming home. I need your help around the house. You cannot just skirt your responsibilities.” He growled at her.

“I don’t understand. You don’t have to worry about me when I’m here. They’ll take care of me…” she tried to explain.

“I can take care of you just fine. You don’t need to be playing make believe here.”

“Dad. No.” She was standing her ground and Ron was proud of her, he thought maybe he could just watch from a distance just in case. But when he looked at Y/N’s father, something seemed off. He was staggering and stumbling at only 11 o’clock in the morning.

“You are coming home with me, Y/N.” Her dad grabbed her arm harshly.

“Okay, fine, fine,” she conceded. Even from a distance, Ron could see the confidence fade in her eyes just to be replaced by fear. “Just let me go get my stuff.”  

“No, we are going now. You humiliated me by having Arthur Weasley show up at MY house to collect your things.”

“Please, dad. My school things are in there. I need them to do my summer work.” Her words became more urgent as though she was trying to calm him down and be reasonable.

“WE ARE GOING NOW!” Y/N tried to pull away, but his grasp was too tight on her wrist. Ron couldn’t take it anymore.

“Let her go!” he yelled.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Y/N’s dad spat in Ron’s direction.

“Ron, it’s really okay,” Y/N said, but her eyes pleaded for help.

“I said, let her go.” Ron repeated, closing the distance between him and Y/N.

“She’s my daughter, under the age of 17, and I can do with her as I please.”

Ron’s eyes flickered to where Y/N’s father held her arm. It seemed to be getting tighter. His nails were practically breaking her flesh.

“Dad, that hurts,” she spoke softly to him, but his grip didn’t loosen. Ron could see the pain emanating in her eyes.

“She said she wants to stay here.” Ron gritted through his teeth, losing his cool.

“Let’s go, Y/N.” Her father yanked her arm so hard that Ron was sure her arm would pop out of her socket.

The tears swelled up in her eyes as she held back her audible cries. “Let her go.” Ron was giving her dad one last chance before…

Once Ron spoke, Y/N’s dad only pulled harder. Ron leaped forward, fist aimed at the man holding onto Y/N. He hit him square in the jaw. When Y/N’s dad recoiled, he lost his grip on Y/N, allowing her to break free.

“Are you okay?” he asked, rushing to her side.

“Yeah, just a little sore,” she lied. Ron stood up beside her to face her dad. The man stood a few inches shorter than Ron, so he had to look up to meet Ron’s fiery stare.

“You need to leave now.” Ron spoke as calmly as he could.

By this point, the commotion had drawn the attention of his family inside. Fred, George, and Arthur Weasley were all running to where Ron stood, Ginny running next to Y/N, helping her up.

“Take Y/N back inside, Gin.” Ron said, not breaking eye contact with her father.

“You can’t just hide my daughter from me.” He dared to speak.

“I’m not hiding her. I’m keeping her safe from you now.” Ron was determined to win this one.

“Mr. L/N. Please leave our property,” Mr. Weasley spoke sternly.

Realizing he was outnumbered, Y/N’s father apparated on the spot. Ron turned instantly to go back to the house and check on her. She had been hurt and he just knew it.

“Gin? Ginny?!” Ron called once he was in the house.  

He could hear her soft sniffles and Ginny calmly repeating that she would be okay. He turned into the living room to see Y/N on the couch with Ginny holding her arm and his mum fussing over her. As annoying as her fussing could be to him sometimes, he was never more grateful to have her here taking care of Y/N.

Ron could see the silent tears streaming down her face. His heart ached at the sight, she should never ever cry.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Ron kept his distance, wanting to be respectful of the people buzzing around her.

“She will be alright,” Molly smiled at the girl, standing up. “Just needs some rest, that’s all.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” Y/N whispered, not really making eye contact with anyone around her. Ron could tell that she was embarrassed by the whole situation even though she didn’t need to be.

“Why don’t you come rest in my room,” Ginny offered, being the type of friend that knew Y/N wouldn’t want to be the center of attention all day because of this.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

Ron couldn’t stop pacing around the ground floor. Not even the twins could bring themselves to tease him over his concern, they were concerned too. Y/N took her meals in Ginny’s room with Ginny and Arthur watched the yard, making sure that her father didn’t return.

The family went up to bed with an uneasiness in the air. Ron walked so slowly past Ginny’s room, hoping to maybe catch Y/N going to the bathroom or something, but he didn’t. So, now he lied awake in his bed, listening to the ghoul make a ruckus in the attic.

When the soft knock echoed off his door, Ron flew to answer it. Y/N stood there, small and shivering. “Can I come in?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, yes, of course.” Ron opened the door wider when he realized she hadn’t been up here since the first night she arrived. Y/N stood in the middle of the room, looking utterly unsure about what to do now.

“You want to sit down?” Ron asked motioning to his bed as he took a seat on the floor.

“I don’t want to put you out.” How was she still so polite and thoughtful?

“Sit, Y/N.” Ron offered softly, not wanting to push too hard.

“I just wanted to thank you, for coming out earlier to help me.”

Ron couldn’t stop himself as he grabbed her hand to reassure her that he was there. “You don’t have to go home ever again…”

“I’ve been home, Ron. For months. A home is a place where you are supposed to feel safe and loved and warm.” She looked up from the floor to look at him for the first time since she entered the room. Oh, how beautiful she was. “You make me feel safe, you are my home. And somehow when I was out there today, I just knew you would come…”

She sank onto the floor next to him and all Ron wanted to do was close the space, but he wanted to make sure that she was comfortable above all else. “The Burrow was a safe haven for me,” she continued, “but you, you made every second here amazing. And it may be silly, but I’ve had this crush on you forever.” Y/N broke eye contact as she spoke the words, slightly embarrassed to be telling him this way, but nevertheless she kept going. She wasn’t going to be scared of this anymore. “But, I can’t help but feel like it’s become more than a crush. I-I think I love you, Ron and I just have this feeling that you might feel that same way?”

The words evaded him. How could he express just how much she meant to him?

“Kiss me” was all he managed. The most beautiful smile he had ever seen spread across her face as she leaned forward into him. Ron couldn’t stop himself from pulling her lips to his to close the space faster. He swore he felt sparks as the kiss deepened and became more passionate. This was it. Ron knew that she was it for him.

When they finally pulled apart for air, he studied her beautiful face so closely that he could see every freckle, every line, and every blemish, but even those were beautiful. “I can be your home as long as you need me too,” he spoke against her lips.

“How does forever sound?” she whispered, closing the gap one more time.

-

Y/N never did have to go back to her father, Ron made sure of that. Ginny was more than happy to let her best friend share her room and keep her things there, but really she snuck up to Ron’s room almost every time they were back at the Burrow.

Forever can seem like an awfully long time, but whenever Ron held her in his arms, forever felt like something he could definitely do, especially for her.

[wizardingworld-imagines]

Jealousy - Fred Weasley

Pairing - Fred Weasley x fem!Reader

Requested? - Yes, by a lovely anon! 

Word Count - 1.2k

Warnings - Slight angst, everything is ok though

A/N - I’m so sorry this took so long, uni has been so stressful recently, but thank you for the request and I hope you like it!

Y/N had liked Fred since first year. No, Y/N admired Fred since first year. When he and his twin stepped off the train that very first day, mischief intent, gleaming in their eyes, Y/n was sure she was smitten. Y/N made friends with the twins easily, she belonged with them, although it was Fred she really wanted. 

Of course, Y/N had kept her affections hidden. She didn’t want to ruin the friendships she had built, Fred and George had been there for her throughout their time at Hogwarts, she couldn’t just let that go over some silly crush. Oh, but it was so much more than that. 

No, Y/N was sure that she loved Fred, that she had fallen in love with him. It may have only occurred to her recently that the emotion she felt was love, initially it was some infatuation she supposed wouldn't last, but here they were, sixth year, and the feelings had not subsided. The only thing standing in her way was Angelina. 

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Fred had been planning on asking Angelina to the Yule Ball. It came as a surprise to Y/N when Angelina accepted. 

This stirred conflicting emotions within her, she was happy, of course she was. Angelina was going to the ball with Fred Weasley, but this was exactly the same reason as to why Y/N was utterly crushed. 

~~~~

The twins had noticed Y/N's strange behaviour, but didn't know how to approach her about it. It seemed as if she was purposely avoiding them, never going to meals when they were present, avoiding quidditch practice, hanging around with Cedric in her spare time instead of them. They felt as if they were being neglected. This is what prompted them to ask Angelina to speak to her. 

When Angelina found Y/N, she was sitting in the grounds of the courtyard, laughing at something Cedric had said. She approached them slowly, asking if she could speak to Y/N alone. Hesitantly, Y/N stood up from the ground, gave a small nod towards Cedric and his friends and followed Angelina to talk. 

'Y/N. what's going on? Fred, George and I are so worried about you, you haven't been yourself recently. Please, just talk to me' 

Y/N stood still, unsure of what to say. She knew that the truth was probably the best option, and so she said what was necessary. 

'I mean, it's not like i've liked Fred since first year, and now you're going to the Yule Ball with him' Y/N stated, bitterness evident in her tone. 

'Y/N, i'm so sorry, I had no idea' Angelina started, but Y/N cut her off. 

'Do you remember the letter? The one I had you send?''

Things clicked into place in Angelina's mind. When Y/N had her send the letter, she never thought of the contents, just assumed it was some kind of prank that she didn't want to know about, she never even considered that Y/N liked Fred. 

'Oh Y/N, it'll be ok. I'll fix this, let me go talk to him and figure things out'

'No, it's ok. I hope you enjoy the ball, i'm sure you two will look wonderful together.'

Y/N replies, turning her back to Angelina, and walking towards Cedric, taking her place from earlier. 

~~~~~~~

When Angelina returned to Fred and George, she explained everything. She described how Y/N was hanging out with Cedric, which brought a visible flush to Fred's face.  She also spoke about how Y/N was feeling, how she sent the letter, not Angelina. 

Fred was distraught. How did he not realise it was Y/N's handwriting in the letter? He had known the girl for so long yet he was so oblivious. He only asked Angelina out because he thought she sent the letter, wrote all those kind and beautifully crafted words about him. He spoke to Angelina, asking if it was ok if he found Y/N, spoke to her and asked her to the ball instead. Angelina nodded, and confessed something of her own truth, she only accepted his request as she thought he was George. This caused a small uproar of laughter, the three chuckling to themselves, before Fred left the two together, as he went searching for Y/N. 

Finding her where Angelina described earlier, he noticed how Cedric had his arm draped over her shoulder. It was only a friendly gesture, but regardless it sent jealousy coursing through Fred's veins. Y/N didn't notice Fred, she was busy in her own thoughts, jealousy of her own distracting her. She was also half listening to a story Cedric was telling, until a familiar voice cut through and got her attention.

'Y/N, can we talk?' Bringing her eyes up from their fixated position on the fresh grass, she was met with the person of her long term affection. Fred Weasley. 

Stumbling over her words, she mutters a simple response, and the two engage in a conversation. 

Cedric takes this queue to leave, and he mumbles something that sounded like a goodbye and wanders off, presumably back to the Hufflepuff common room to train for the next task. 

‘What do you want Fred? Aren’t you busy with Angelina?’ Y/N asks, and despite her calm exterior, there was spite with every word. 

‘No, this is what we need to talk about’ Fred replies, a gentle look in his eyes, as he reaches out for Y/N’s arm. 

‘Don’t, please don’t give me hope for something I can never have, someone I can never be.’ Y/N interrupted him, and he shot her a questioning look. 

‘Just let me talk, please. I don’t love Angelina, I love you. Seeing you with Cedric made me so angry, I wish I could have been him. The only reason I liked Angelina was because of some letter, which I now know you wrote. I think i’ve always liked you, but felt like you would never know the same. That’s why I asked Angelina to the ball, I was waiting for something I never thought I could have.’ He explained, and hope lit a fire in Y/N. So he liked her all this time? 

She tried to respond, no words coming out of her mouth. Unable to speak, a smile spread across her face. She was ecstatic. She did something risky, something dangerous. If there was something Y/N had learnt about Fred in her time of knowing him, it was that he liked a bit of mischief. 

And so she kissed him. Gentle, but firmly passionate. Pulling away from him, she looked into his beautiful eyes, and could see how much he was filled with love for her. The way his looked at her, as if she was the most precious thing in the entire world. And that’s when it dawned on her, how much she truly loved him. She was utterly in love, nothing like anything before. And now she had him, he had her. And they were happy. For once, they were truly happy.

[meganswish]

Things in Harry Potter you might have not noticed since JKR started being more openly TERFy:

Hermione attacking Ron with a violent offensive spell because he kisses a girl that's not her. they're not even dating. no consequences. it's okay because she's upset that he dares to have autonomy when it comes to his love life, I guess.

Hogwarts magically intervening to stop any male presence entering the girl's dorms, but not vice versa. despite the fact that the only instances of harassment we see in Harry Potter are boy-on-boy (James and Snape) or girl-on-boy (Romilda and Harry/Ron, Merope and Tom Riddle Senior) and it's a magic castle that could probably find another solution.

despite her self-proclaiming to be a feminist (usually when someone calls her out), the series has a pretty strong male focus. male protagonist, male best friend, male mentor, male villain, male Ministers of Magic, predominantly male teachers ...

leading on from that, a pretty good litmus test for whether or not a female character will be good or bad is whether or not she likes Harry. male characters (like Zacharias Smith and Cormac McLaggen) get the luxury of being assholes without being actually evil.

none of the "cool" girls that Harry gets on with have any female friends; they don't really even get along that well with each other. they're either ~quirky~ or have good masculine interests like studying and sports and being an Auror.

Lavender and Parvati being consistently mocked and belittled by Hermione, Fleur being excluded and insulted by all the women in the household. (Harry even points out that she's clearly not useless as she's a Triwizard Champion, and Hermione immediately attributes it to him lusting after her.)

Rita Skeeter's "mannish" features being repeatedly drawn attention to, her garish clothes, her illegally changing her body to spy and profit off children.

Aunt Marge is also portrayed as overtly masculine

men in "women's clothes" being used for comedic effect (e.g. Neville's Boggart, the wizard Hermione laughs at in the queue for the Quidditch World Cup)

villainous malice/spite closely tied to femininity. need I say Umbridge? Snape too.

JKR was the original person to hate on astrology girls for their ~feminine~ magic with tea cups and scents and comfy seats with nice cushions. she literally has to make her female self-insert physically incapable of performing well in the class or respecting the teacher,and has Professor McGonagall break her professionalism to openly disparage the "woolly" magic.

(Divination is okay when she needs it as a plot point though.)

love potions - as in, magical date rape drugs - being completely normalised in wizard society and played for laughs. despite having a man as the genius professional Potions master, they're portrayed as pretty much entirely a female medium. (probably because having a man give a woman a love potion would immediately draw attention to how messed up it is for a lot of readers.)

I feel like you could do something with the weird emphasis on blood/genetics??

you definitely already noticed this but the LGBTQ+ representation is more prominent on Twitter than it ever is in the universe... even the later ones, now that she's one of (if not the) most successful writers alive in a time where diverse casts are being encouraged.

consistently portraying large majorities of women as silly/thoughtless/blind when in the presence of good-looking men. (to have that effect in the reverse you have to be a Veela, though. or Hermione.)

feminine women who still have positive impact on the plot are redeemed entirely through their reproductive ability and status as mothers.

this ^^ ALWAYS results in them selflessly protecting/ sacrificing something for a male character.

and all of the female villains are childless.

the most prominent gay character never ends up married. his only relationship is paralleled strongly to Hitler's rise to power, ends with the death of his traumatised sister, and he redeems this through essentially grooming a young teenage boy for war.

Mrs Zabini using her ~feminine wiles~ to routinely control and murder men for money. ofc she's a black woman.

I'll probably end up thinking of more at some point

[seethesuncoming]

Blackinnon Week 2021 - Day 4

You can also read this story on FFN

Last picture

Two figures materialize at the southern end of Diagon Alley, in front of a trinket shop that neither of them has ever bothered to enter. They do not attract anyone's attention, it is usual for wizards in a hurry who want to avoid going through Muggle London to appear in that place, one of the less crowded in the area.

The shorter figure walks to the large window of the shop. She looks at herself in the glass, the tousled brown fringe and wrinkled nose in disapproving expression. She tries to comb her hair as she turns to her companion.

"Are you serious? Did you drag me from the door of Caradoc's house to come to Diagon Alley?"

The boy, a head taller than her, stands next to her and runs his hand through his hair looking at his reflection in the same glass.

“Of course I am” He smiles cheekily. "It was a routine meeting, Marlene. Reports of the last missions, in which we participated. Nothing we don't already know”

He turns to look at her and winks.

“Besides, there is something more important that I have to do today”

She doesn't remember, but few days ago, she gave him the perfect idea for Harry's birthday present. He had been searching for an ideal gift for three months, until she told him about the launch of a new line of children's brooms.

A toy flying broom fits the profile of what Sirius was looking for: something fun and rebellious that allows him to get on Lily's nerves. That is the reason that has led them to Quality Quidditch Supplies. That day is the launch of the new Shooting Star 3000 toy broom and Sirius is willing to get one before they are sold out, he will spare no expense.

Sirius offers his arm, in a formal gesture he only does when he's in good mood and flirty. He smiles seductive. Marlene rolls her eyes, but accepts the gesture and puts her arm around him. The corners of her lips betray her and curl upward. They start their way to the store. As they get closer, the number of people in the alley multiplies to become a large crowd at the doors of the premises.

"It will take hours for the queue to advance," the girl complains as she receives shoves and tries to find a clerk in the crowd, "that if the brooms don't run out first.

Sirius finds a shortcut.

"Hey boy!"

A boy his own age in a blue robe with red edges approaches obediently.

“Yes sir?”

"How long is the waiting list for the Shooting Star 3000?"

"Well ... they'll probably be sold out before half the people here can be served."

Then Sirius does something that surprises Marlene and the store clerk: he puts one arm around the girl's shoulders and places his other hand on her belly. She fixes her expression immediately, understanding Sirius's plan.

"The child will be born in five months." He reads the name written in the pin of the boy's tunic. "I'm sure you could do an excited couple of future parents a great favor, Marius."

Marius stares at Marlene's flat stomach in disbelief, then moves on to her hair, Stevie Nicks styled, which gives her a bohemian look. She smiles at him sweetly. The boy then notices Sirius's shirt that says "The Who", with an arrow sticking out of the 'o'. They definitely don't fall into the stereotype of responsible future parents. It was probably an oversight by the young couple, but neither seems displeased with the idea.

To finish convincing him, Sirius takes out a generous amount of money and shows it to him. That ends up dispelling his doubts.

Moments later, Sirius Black walks out of the store with an elongated package and a childish smile. Marlene comes out laughing next to him. They have gotten away with it.

"Do you know what else you should do?"

When he turns his head toward her with interest, she continues.

"Instead of giving him the broom wrapped in that bland brown paper, you could wrap it like Muggles do, with what they call wrapping paper."

Sirius takes the advice, leaves the toy broom at The Leaky Cauldron and they head out the front door onto Charing Cross Street. Sirius has visited the Muggle world several times, but to attend concerts or visit music stores and bars. He has rarely been to large shopping malls or gift shops. He definitely has no idea where he can get the paper that Marlene mentioned. He is guided by her to a large building through which people enter and leave all the time.

"I once came with Lily and Mary to find a gift for James." She explains as they walk through the large doors of the mall.

They don't take long to get to the place they are looking for; but they do take a long time to wait for Sirius to choose the layout of the paper. Marlene, tired and bored, goes out window shopping while Sirius finishes making up his mind. As she turns to retrace her steps, she spots a photo booth out of the corner of her eye. A beaming smile spreads across her face as she quickens her pace to return to Black.

.

"You just stepped on me!"

"If you would just stop moving around so much, I might be able to accommodate myself fine."

Finally, they stop being a jumble of legs and arms, and manage to sit in front of the camera.

"When the count hits zero, they'll take four pictures of us, okay?"

Sirius nods inattentive, he's more interested in understanding how the machine will take four photos of them and deliver them to him as soon as they come out without using magic.

"The muggles’ ingenuity never ceases to amaze me." he says, his brow still furrowed when the first flash blinds him.

Marlene laughs with amusement.

"Relax your expression and smile for the next one. Remember that these photos have no movement."

Then, he shows that smile with which he used to melt hearts at Hogwarts. The flash illuminates them again. She turns to look at him and adjusts a rebellious lock that fell over his left eye. Sirius looks her square in the eye and smiles at her, mischievous and genuine. Both are lost in the gaze of the other and everything else disappears. The cabin lights up with the last flash.

The session is over.

When they go out, Sirius expects the photos to appear in his hands, as they would if it were a magical photo booth. Marlene scoffs at his ignorance once more and sticks her hand in the groove. She hands the boy two strips with four photos each.

He examines them, detailing box by box. He smiles at his own confused expression on the first and Marlene teasing on the next. His face turns serious with the last one, a photo that portrays the complicity and intimacy between them both. A photo that could turn against them if it falls into the wrong hands.

"Take them yourself."

Marlene looks at him confused. He explains, all trace of joy has disappeared from his face.

"There is… I think there is a traitor in the Order. If someone sees me with these photos... no one can know about us.”

She nods and receives them. She caresses his cheek lovingly, understanding how worried he is.

"They'll be under the loose tile on the ceiling of my room, okay?"

He nods. He knows which tile she means; they've kept things there before.

.

Thirteen years later, a large black dog enters the McKinnons' abandoned house. Inside, safe from prying eyes, he transforms into a slim man with a dirty and unkempt appearance.

Sirius has returned to London as soon as he learned that Harry's scar had hurt again. He takes advantage of his return to recover memories buried under the tile of the last room to the right of the second floor, Marlene McKinnon's room.

He holds his breath as he searches for the tile. Contrary to what he expects, the tile is still there. Still after more than a decade.

Its precious content has also survived time.

[omgrachwrites]

Protection - Remus Lupin

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: When you go and visit your husband at work, you discover that something is wrong and you know that you will say or do anything to protect Remus. Everyone lives au

Warnings: fluff, angst

Words: 1473

Disclaimer: This gif doesn’t belong to me!

A/N: I have seen this headcanon before so I decided to play around with it! Hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think, and let me know if you would like to be added to my Harry Potter taglist, I love you all! xxx

The early afternoon air was crisp and cool as you took a great breath of it and smiled, it smelt like it was going to rain. You stood by the pumpkin patch and gazed up at the huge castle which was almost blanketed by stormy grey mountains capped with snow. It was home, it felt like home and it always would, no matter how old you got, you would always consider Hogwarts as your home. Hogwarts had been a place where people could be who they wanted to be without secrets or fear and that was what you loved about it.

As you started the ascent up the grassy hill you grinned as you saw James coming down it, when he saw you he lifted his hand up in a wave, “hi Y/N.”

“James, what are you doing here?” you smiled and he grinned back, running a hand through his messy curls.

“First Quidditch match of the season tomorrow and I thought the team could use a pep talk from a Quidditch legend,” he smirked, looking very smug, “and I did want to see my son. I’ve missed him,” he added, “what about you?”

“I just thought I’d stop by and say hi to Remus, I’m missing him a lot and the house is so much quieter when he’s gone. I brought him some lunch,” you held up a lunch box and blushed. You were so happy and proud when your husband had snagged the Defence Against the Dark Arts post but you didn’t realise just how much you would miss him.

James nodded understandingly, “yeah I get it, that’s why Lily didn’t want me to work away. With our second child coming and everything,” he grinned, James and Lily were your very best friends and you were so excited that they had another baby on the way. It had taken years of trying, “definitely come round for dinner tonight though. Sirius is bringing the new girl that he’s seeing.”

You giggled as you rolled your eyes, Sirius had been a serial dater at school and when you had all left he seemed to calm down a little. Only a little though. The girls seemed to last longer but he seemed to still be scared of the commitment and it made you sad, Sirius was a great guy and he deserved someone that he could be happy with. Maybe this new girl could be the one.

“Lucky us eh?” you smiled, “bye James.”

“Bye Y/N, see you tonight,” he chuckled as he gave you a quick hug.

You sighed happily as you walked into the warm castle and began making your way down to Remus’ classroom. You hovered in the doorway for a little while as you watched your beautiful husband; you smiled as he shook a hand through his hair and pushed the glasses up his nose. The glasses were new but they made him look even more gorgeous. However, your smile dropped a moment later when Remus sighed and frowned, you could tell that he had a heartbroken look on his face.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” you asked as you walked into the empty classroom and approached his desk.

Remus looked up slightly startled but smiled warmly when he saw you and he got up from behind his desk and walked round it to give you a hug and a sweet lingering kiss, “Y/N, this is a nice surprise angel. What are you doing here?” he smiled but you could still see the uneasiness in his gorgeous hazel eyes.

You smiled wanly as you rested your hands on his chest, “I missed you, and I wanted to bring you lunch,” you smiled as he gasped happily and you placed the lunchbox on his desk, “what’s wrong?”

Remus sighed as he led you over to his desk and he sat down on his chair with you in his lap as he pinched the bridge of his nose, his arms tight around your waist like you were his anchor, “I’ve just been marking essays and they were,” he hesitated, “a little unexpected,” he gestured to the pile of essays on his desk.

You frowned and picked them up, leafing through the pile before you settled on reading a couple of them. It looked like the class had been learning about werewolves and every essay was about the characteristics of a werewolf… and how to kill them. Your heart hurt for Remus, you couldn’t imagine how much it must have hurt for him to read essays that his students had written, essays on how to kill werewolves. But, you were kind of confused.

“Remus, I don’t understand,” you frowned and trailed off when you looked at him and discovered that he had tears in his eyes, “sweetheart. Talk to me.”

He took a great sniffle, “these are essays from a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t take my class for that week because it was the week of the full moon. Dumbledore let me take some time off,” that made more sense, after all Remus wouldn’t have been so upset if he was the one who had set the essays. Though, it did lead to another question.

“Who took over your class?” you asked, you couldn’t understand how someone could be so cruel to him.

“Severus,” he mumbled and you felt a great white hot sizzle of anger go through your chest, “I guess he wants to expose me as the monster I really am. I can’t blame him, after I nearly killed him in school.”

“That’s it,” you stood up, angry at Snape. You sighed as you dumped all of the essays on the floor, stamping on them, you might have been overreacting but you didn’t care. Nobody made your sweet, caring and protective husband feel like a monster and got away with it. You sat back on Remus’ knee and cupped his cheek, “Remus listen to me, you are not a monster. I will remind you every day for the rest of our lives if that’s what it takes. You are the best thing Remus, the very best. You’re so caring and amazing, and sweet. Harry told me that you helped Neville get over his fear of Snivellus. People should look up to you and strive to be like you because if more people were like you Remus then the world would be a better place. You are not a monster, okay?”

His grew misty at your little speech and he gave you a head spinning kiss, “thank you Y/N. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you. I love you.”

“And I love you.”

You spent the rest of the lunch hour with him, talking and laughing, you wanted to make him feel like his worries were a million miles away. You told him about your work with a sweet smile on his face as his thumb rubbed over your bottom lip. About five minutes before his class was due to start you said your goodbyes.

“Are you sure that you don’t want me to walk you out?”

You grinned at him as you stood up on your tiptoes to kiss him, “I’m sure, I’ll see you soon. I love you,” you smiled; there was something that you had to do before you left.

“I love you more Y/N.”

Fuelled by your anger you stomped down to the dungeons were a couple of students had started to queue for their lesson. Without knocking you stormed right in and glared at Snape. He looked exactly the same, sallow skin and the longest greasy hair with a hooked nose. As he glanced up at you his lip curled in disgust.

“Lupin,” he scowled, using your married name instead of your maiden name like he had in school.

“Snivellus,” you glared back, slamming your hands on his desk, “let’s get one thing straight you hook nosed bastard! If you ever make my husband feel like a monster ever again I promise I will kill you.  You are a disgrace of a human being, making him read essays like that. Screw you and stop bullying your students, especially those who can’t stand up for themselves,” you hissed, thinking of poor Neville.

Snape only scowled at you, his eyes flashing dangerously as you stomped back to the door, opening it before calling back at him, “you’re a git Snivellus, go to hell!”

As you walked out into the corridor you saw Harry standing with his friends Ron and Hermione. Harry was grinning, Hermione was hiding a shocked smile behind her hand and Ron was smirking, it seemed like they had all heard you. You knew that Snape was their least favourite teacher.

“That was bloody brilliant,” Ron blurted out and you smiled, taking a bow. You would do or say anything to protect your husband.

-----------------

Marauders Taglist: @kashishwrites​ @smiithys​ @siriusblackspam​

[knjsnoona]

I posted 1,684 times in 2021

251 posts created (15%)

1433 posts reblogged (85%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 5.7 posts.

I added 1,845 tags in 2021

#i’ll be missing queue - 565 posts

#hubby no 1 - 215 posts

#mochi angel - 187 posts

#hubby no 2 - 159 posts

#demon that haunts my dreams - 157 posts

#genius yoongles - 120 posts

#sr - 118 posts

#icymi - 113 posts

#kth - 108 posts

#bootiful moots all over the world - 103 posts

Longest Tag: 111 characters

#ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

FILA EXPLORE COLLECTION - NAMJOON

knj || ksj || myg || jhs || pjm || kth || jjk

216 notes • Posted 2021-10-03 14:33:44 GMT

#4

PTD Performance at the UNGA This look had me.

252 notes • Posted 2021-09-20 14:23:42 GMT

#3

FILA EXPLORE COLLECTION - JIN

knj || ksj || myg || jhs || pjm || kth || jjk

322 notes • Posted 2021-10-03 04:14:09 GMT

#2

namkook x fake love @ ptd online concert 21.10.24

418 notes • Posted 2021-10-24 13:12:39 GMT

#1

seat 287

genre: smut || pwp pairing: namjoon x reader word Count: 6.3k rating: 18+ warnings: language, light dom!namjoon, explicit sexual descriptions, choking, fingering, thigh riding, infidelity, spanking, hair pulling, overstimulation, masturbation, multiple orgasms summary: Forbidden fruits always taste the sweetest… credits: thank you so much @lavienjin for betaing this for me! *PLEASE TAKE NOTE THAT THIS IS ONLY HALF EDITED. I WILL BE EDITING THE REST TOMORROW. I AM UPLOADING THIS SO THAT I CAN MAKE THE DEADLINE*

❂ Fall for Romance 

⁂ Hosted by: Professor Dia through @bangtansorciere Fall Romance - Sept Quidditch Games Au Type/Trope - Strangers to Lovers Theme - Age Gap & Forbidden Romance Kinks - Spanking | Hair Pulling | Choking | Fingering | Thigh Riding | Masturbation | Overstimulation | Size Kink | Multiple Orgasms

The air was thick, making it hard to breathe and fill your lungs with the oxygen they desperately sought. Your whole body felt as if it were on fire, sweat breaking out over every surface trying to douse the flames licking at your flesh. A heat could be traced to the space between your legs which were spread for the viewing pleasure of the man before you. 

Your half-lidded eyes could barely hold his stern gaze for longer than a few seconds. It would be hard to continue with your lewd display if you did. The thought alone that you had his complete attention makes you shiver, your fingers stuttering momentarily against your clit. Small sparks shooting from the small bundle, fanning the flames scorching your helpless form. 

Perched on your professor’s office desk, spread wide open for him to see your most intimate parts as you touched yourself wasn’t like you. It certainly wasn’t the kind of thing you were into… that is until you met him; Kim Namjoon, your physics professor. 

The expression ‘tall, dark and handsome’ was one you had always found cliche, but when you laid eyes on him in the lecture hall that first day, he appeared to be the embodiment of the words. His gaze, dark and alluring, entrapped you with a simple glance. When he introduced himself, the baritone of his voice struck a chord in the deepest recesses of your mind awakening something primal within you. He was meticulous in everything he did, including the way he could make you fall apart.

“You’re making a mess.” 

His deep voice interrupted your thoughts as his fierce almond-shaped eyes inspected your face. His words mortified you, your knees knocking against each other as you pressed your legs together in humiliation. Scrutinized under his gaze, you cried out in shame, feeling like a scolded child.

What were you thinking, how did you let it get this far? When had you lost hold of your senses and rationale? This was never meant to happen. It started out with you asking him innocently about an assignment, but it somehow ended up with you crushed against a bookshelf with his fingers deep inside your pussy. Once the heat of the moment had passed, you both swore to not speak of it and how it would never happen again. 

What liars. 

Strong hands massaged your knees before pulling them apart while simultaneously drawing a gasp from your lips and ensnaring your attention once more.. His hands slid down the insides of your smooth thighs, that tremble beneath his feather-light touches. 

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

Your teeth chewed the corner of your lip nervously, eyes glued to one of the hands resting on your thigh. You concentrated on the warmth that permeated from him, trying to formulate a response . You came up empty-handed, feeling like an idiot before him, a man who always knew what to say.

“Did I unsettle you with my remark?” His thick lips curve into a knowing smile, as he removed his large hands from you. “There’s nothing wrong with a little mess...” He assured  you, the smile growing on his lips. His fingers swiped at something on the desk before bringing them up to your face to reveal  your slickness. “...it can always be cleaned up.” He continued his earlier thought, placing his digits on your lips.  

Meeting his unwavering gaze, you knew what he was asking. No, demanding of you. Without sparing another thought, your lips part to welcome him. You carefully licked his fingers clean, tasting yourself for the first time in your life. It was something that had previously not appealed to you, but when the musky tang assaulted your taste buds you couldn’t withhold the moan it drew out.

In the handful of encounters you shared, he’s taught you how to enjoy so many intimate acts you had previously scorned. Acts that always made you blush or scrunch your face in disgust. But not with him. Everything he said or did turned you on beyond belief. With one look he could have you on your knees as if he were a god and you, his faithful worshipper. 

“Good girl.” His praise sent butterflies fluttering in your chest. “Now please continue.”

Subtly nodding, your fingers returned to their previous position, pressing down on your clit. A small jolt shoots through you as you began rubbing your bud in large circles. A sigh escaping around his fingers still between your lips.

You glanced at him, taking in the way his eyes were drawn to the apex of your thighs; hypnotized by the rotating motions of your own smaller fingers. Feeling just a tad brave, you pressed your tongue against his fingers, instantly drawing his attention back up. 

“Mouth feeling needy as well?” 

Instead of answering, you tilt your head back, withdrawing his fingers before pushing back down and drawing them back in.  A newfound bravery flowing through you, stimulated by your growing arousal clouding your senses as your fingers continued to stimulate your flushed pink pearl. 

His lips twitched into a smile, but he bit his bottom lip to stop himself, drawing your eyes to the action. You felt him retract his fingers, making you whine and bite down gently to keep the digits from leaving.

“So adorable… so pretty… so shameless for me,” he chuckled, admiring your near-nude form. 

He placed his other hand at the curve of your hip immediately, warming the places it touched as it leisurely traveled its way to your breast. The moment his palm molded to the soft mound on your chest, your back arched, seeking to be closer to his touch. Humming, he gave it a gentle squeeze and you nibble on the tips of his fingers still in your mouth in return. A sharp sting shot through your torso as he pinched a pebbled nipple.

Your lips released him, face pinched in pain and pleasure. His saliva-slicked fingers gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him. You whimpered as you gazed with pleading eyes. Namjoon leaned closer and you felt your pussy clenching as you caught his familiar cologne

“A dirty little mouth with such pretty, soft lips. Perfect.” Teasingly, he lightly ran his lips against yours, pulling away each time you tried to close the distance. “Perfect for wrapping around my cock.” 

Your eyes pinched shut, a needy whine escaping your throat, fingers rubbing tight circles on your hooded bud. Your breaths became harder to control as you can feel the tightness in the pit of your belly. His words only accelerated your incoming orgasm. You began grinding harder against your hand as your eyes snapped open to look at the embodiment of sex that stood before you. 

As you’re reaching your peak, he slapped your hand away from your core. Wide eyes desperately search his for an answer, your body trembled in the wake of your orgasm being taken from you. Confusion marred your features, skin buzzing with pent-up frustration as his face gave away nothing but self-satisfaction. You felt so desperate at that moment you could feel tears begin to fill your tear line. 

Taking notice, his smirk melted into a soft smile. His hand gently released your chin, and he leaned back into his seat, resting his arms on the rests. And the way he scanned you from head to toe made you shy once again as the haze of lust slowly began to clear. Placing your sheepish gaze on the desk, you quietly slid the sleeve of your shirt that had slipped off, back over your shoulder.

“Come here, little one.” 

You glanced at him with apprehensive eyes. He smiled at you warmly, one hand patting his thigh. He waited patiently as you swallowed the jitters. You take your time sliding off the desk and approaching his lap. Turning to take a seat, his hand on your hips stopped you. 

“Uh uh.” He negated your action, his other hand coming to rest on your hip as well. He turned you back to face him and slid his thigh between your legs. “Take a seat,” he whispered, gentle hands guiding you down onto your new perch. 

You shivered as the cool material of his slacks grazed against your heated core. There was uncertainty sown into your body, feeling dirty as your juices soaked into the material of his pants. Trying not to ruin them, you lifted yourself slightly on trembling legs but the action was short-lived as he pulled you back down harshly.

“Where are you going?” He inquired, nose running along the shell of your ear. 

“Nowhere.” You murmured, a shiver running up your spine. 

“Good girl.” he hummed the praise, placing a kiss behind your ear. “Now move,” he commanded, hands guiding your hips to grind against the muscle you were seated on. “Use me to get yourself off, little one. I want to feel you soak me with your sweet ambrosia.”

His words made you clench and you pushed down against him involuntarily. You moaned quietly, brows pinching in pleasure. Your core was the steel and his strong thigh the flint that grind together to spark a fire deep inside of you once more. A euphoric haze clouded your mind, giving you the feeling of weightlessness. 

Your eyes watched him from beneath your lashes, lids too heavy with pleasure to fully lift. You saw the hunger in him as he clenched his jaw, eyes almost dilated black. The grip on your hips tightened, pushing you harder down against him. Biting your lip, you tried to keep from moaning loudly with each delicious stroke against your clit. The rough material of his pants drenched in your juices created such pleasurable friction, stroking the roaring fire in your belly. 

Your orgasm was rapidly approaching, and you knew he could tell by the filthy things he leaned in to whisper in your ear. You clung to each lewd word, core clenching when he would accentuate what he said by tugging your earlobe between his lips.

“I can’t wait to be inside your tight cunt, little one.”

You moaned loudly at those words, memories of your previous trysts heavy on your mind; Remembering how well he stretched your walls, stroking the deepest recesses of your womb. Your hips move faster desperately chasing your end while ignoring the burning exhaustion in your thighs. 

“That’s it.” He moaned, hands gripping your hips tightly and pressing his thigh harder against your womanhood. “Come for me, little one.”

Blinding white light filled your vision, back arching painfully as your orgasm completely took over. You felt momentarily suspended in time as your body thrashed in his hold. When you came back to your senses, his hands were helping you rut  against him, riding out your orgasm. Placing a dainty hand against his shoulder, you pushed, another hand wrapping around one of his wrists as you tried to lift away. 

“Uh uh.” He tightened his grip on you and pulled you down hard. “We’re not finished playing.”

You cried out, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. Hunching over, your hands gripped at his forearms, nails digging in his skin through the fabric. Each time you tried to remove yourself, he pulled your hips down harder.

“Please! I can’t! Please, no more!” You plead hopelessly. Your body couldn’t take much more, your poor, battered clit too sensitive. But he continued, steadfast in his control of your arousal.

“You can take it.” He placed a kiss on your sweat-drenched forehead. “I know you can… you’re a resilient little one.”

You whimpered, shaking your head in denial. Your thighs were shaking hard, painful pleasure shooting from your hooded bud. There was no way you could continue like this, you wanted to cry. Then as if to mock you, the pain began to ebb away and pleasure once more took over. You blinked in disbelief, chest heaving for air. 

It was that moment that a freezing dose of reality washed over you both as the sounds of knocking echo through the now deafeningly silent room. Both freezing in place, your large terrified eyes stared at his composed face; the very slight tremble in his eyes betraying his mask of calm. 

You jumped upon hearing another knock. Panic sets in as you shot away from him, your mind abuzz with how fucked you were. Your trembling hands clutched your shirt close around you, breathing becoming harder when you start to hyperventilate.

Feeling his hands settle on your shoulders, he turned you to face him. “Relax. Breathe.”

Your eyes widen incredulously. “Relax? H-how when we’ve been caught!?” You whispered back harshly. 

“We haven’t been caught yet. But we will be if you don’t get a hold of your emotions.” He stated sternly, his face the picture of calm and collected. “Now, I need you to crawl beneath the desk. Can you do that?”

Trying to gain control of your breaths, you nod, putting your full trust in him.

Returning your nod, he stepped away from you to give you room to squeeze under the desk. Once hidden, you tried to calm your erratic heart; taking deep breaths to help restore calm to your mind. 

“Hello? Professor Kim? Are you in?”

Your heart all but stuttered to a stop as you recognized the voice. Oh fuck. You heard Namjoon walk over and let them in. 

“I’m sorry to bother you.”

“It’s not a bother, young man.” You heard the professor reply, voice growing closer and signaling he was returning to his seat. A few seconds your suspicions are confirmed, as you hear the wheels of his desk chair behind you. Your ears pick up a second pair of steps before the desk, belonging to the male who’d almost caught the forbidden affair. 

Hiding beneath the large desk on all fours, you appreciated how spacious the space beneath was, feeling grateful for not feeling claustrophobic. You covered your mouth, hoping to conceal your ragged breaths as your eyes could just make out the tips of visitor’s shoes from beneath the thin sliver the front panel of the desk allowed. 

You lean away, praying he can’t see your fingers, shuffling them back to keep them from sight.

Feeling you bump into his knees, the older man’s eyes narrowed briefly, completely unnoticed by the younger who stood before him. Leaning back in his seat, his hand falls to rest on his thigh before clearing his throat.

“How may I help you...?” He trails off, hoping the young male supplies the missing information.

“Oh! Jimin. Park Jimin, sir.”

“Professor Kim Namjoon. But you seem to already know that.” Jimin nods confirming his conclusion and Namjoon repeats the question from before now that introductions were out of the way.

The younger man scratches the back of his neck as he shuffles from one foot to the other. Biting his lip he seems to think better of having come before sighing as comes to a decision. Eyes turn back to the professor, lips parting as Jimin asks him if he’d seen you.

“Yes, I have.”

The professor replies, eyes looking at the young male inquisitively. Trying to gauge where his mind was at, he could perceive by his body language how uncomfortable he was.

Perking up, the corners of Jimin's lips pulled up slightly, brown eyes lighting up. 

“Do you know where she is? I haven’t been able to get a hold of her, so I’m a bit worried.”

“Why would I know where she is?” He tossed back, eyes imperceptibly glancing down to take in the sight of you on full display beneath the desk. He notices you shuffling, trying to find a comfortable position and he spreads his legs, allowing you more space before returning his gaze to the male before him.

“I…” Jimin trails off, unsure of why he felt so intimidated by the man before him. He didn’t know how you were able to sit in his class much less visit his office for help. Chewing the inside of his lip, he mentally chides himself for being so unnerved. Deciding to man up, he voices his thoughts. “I just assumed you might know where she went since this is the last place she said she’d be.” 

One of Professor Kim’s hands moves to massage one of your soft globes, giving it a gentle squeeze; a long digit glides between your lips before sinking into your warmth. He feels you squeeze around him, juices leaking when he pulls out before pushing back in slowly, eyes never leaving Jimin’s. 

“I’m assuming she’s your girlfriend? Is that why you’re inquiring about her whereabouts?”

The brunette nods back in reply, soft lips parting to explain further. Namjoon can only give him half of his attention, the other half attending to inserting a second digit within your hot walls. His face never betrays the tightness of his imprisoned cock, chained tightly in place by his dark slacks. Pumping his fingers a few times before retracting them from your core. Sneaking one more glance, he watches your entrance clench around nothing, craving more of his touch. 

He almost feels pity for the poor soul standing before him. Here he was inquiring after you, unaware of how close you were, enjoying the touch of another. The thought makes a swell of selfish pride bloom in his chest, and it takes a lot to keep it from displaying on his face.

Wiping his wet digits against your skin, he rests an elbow on the arm of his seat. He runs his fingers on the skin beneath his nose, simulating being in thought; all the while inhaling the scent of your sweet warmth. His darkened gaze meets the expectant one of your boyfriend, and he takes a moment to swallow the flood of saliva that had overrun his mouth. 

“Mr. Park was it?” He waits for Jimin’s confirmation before continuing. “Mr. Park, I am here to teach youth like yourself, not babysit. If you’ve misplaced your girlfriend, then I suggest you look elsewhere. I have unfinished business to attend to if you don’t mind.” Strong gaze not leaving room for any more conversation. 

The younger man’s gaze lands on the ground before him, feeling like a child who’d been scolded by his parents. A part of him felt frustrated, hating how little Namjoon made him feel. Clenching his jaw—thinking better of causing you any trouble with your professor—he slowly nods, a quiet apology leaving his lips before swiftly making his way out of the room.

Standing from his seat, Namjoon calmly makes his way to lock the door, leaving no room for another interruption. Stuffing one of his hands in his pocket, he contemplates the severity of the situation. The carelessness he’d shown moments before Jimin's intrusion. This was a dangerous game, one he knew better than to have become entangled in. But now that he’d tested the waters he couldn’t help but give in to lustful sin of the flesh and his greed to claim you. 

The sound of something banging against wood breaks him out of his reverie. Remembering you were still in the room, he returns to his desk. A battle raging within him, clarity beginning to settle with every step he came closer to you. This had to end. He would not sacrifice his life’s work for some young pussy. 

He had every intention of voicing his decision until his eyes landed on you. Your small form sitting on your knees, one of your hands clenching your shirt closed at your sternum as the other clutched your skirt and undergarments. Your large eyes make contact with his sharp gaze, holding it as you search for reassurance of your boyfriend’s exit. 

“He’s gone.”

He sees you visibly relax as you release a deep sigh. Standing on shaky legs, apologies nervously tumble from your trembling lips. And he can’t help the way his jaw clenches and his gaze darkens as the younger man’s name escapes your mouth. Shooting out a hand he clutches your wrist, stopping you from attempting to fix your appearance. He can see the question in your sweet gaze, and it makes his balls ache; only fueling the conclusion that he was a depraved man.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I, um should get going, no...? I mean, he’s looking for me.”

“So?”

You seem to become speechless, unable to form a proper response, so he continues.

“You didn’t seem to care when I was knuckle deep, stroking your walls with my fingers.”

“That’s not fair! I couldn’t exactly tell you to stop in front of him.” An indignant look on your pretty face, small hands clenched at your sides. The sudden image of those same small hands wrapped around his thick member raises his heart rate and pumps more blood in the straining bulge in his pants. 

Shaking free of the fantasy, he counters adamantly, “You can lie all you want but that sweet cunt of yours can’t lie to me. It squeezed my fingers so tight, greedily begging for more attention; dripping with every curve of my finger. Did you enjoy that I was touching you, knowing he was here?”

“Don’t.” 

His eyes follow the way you swallow hard.

“Did little miss innocent, wish it were my cock instead? Taking you in front of him?”

His ever-watchful gaze catches your thighs clenching, face flushing in shame and lust, contradicting your whisper of “Please don’t.”

“I did.” His confession cuts through the charged air.

Dark almond-eyes meet your bewildered gaze, unwavering in his declaration. 

“I wanted to fuck you in front of him. Show him the face you make when a real man satisfies your needs. I desired nothing more than for him to see the way you beg for my cock... how that innocent mouth of yours swallows my seed—never spilling a drop.”

He takes a tentative step toward you, observing if you’d take off or not. A useless thing to do, because he knew you wouldn’t. He could tell the moment your grip loosened and dropped your clothing. Your shirt barely covers your torso as it lay open over the valley of your breasts. 

“A boy like him could never fill you the way a man like me could.” He steps in closer, now invading your personal space. Circling you, he brushes your hair off your shoulder and places a light kiss on the smooth skin. Stopping behind you, he buries his nose in your hair getting lost in the scent of your honey shampoo. His arms wrap around your waist, leading you back against him. “I will carve my name into your walls with my cock so that everyone knows I’m the only man able to bring you this much pleasure. Is that what you want?” Slowly, and deliberately with each word he grinds his clothed member against your ass.

You release a single sinful moan, and it's enough for the chain on his self-control to finally snap; gripping your hair tightly, he roughly bends you over his desk. His ears pick up your shocked gasp, but his mind is too far gone to care.

Large hands fondle at the soft globes of your backside, waiting as your breath evens out moments before a loud smack of hand on flesh vibrates through the air. His eyes drink in the way the meat of your cheek jiggles as he repeats the action once more, adoring every whimper that slips from you. Lifting and dropping the weight of his palm on the other cheek, he bites back a growl when finally instead of a cry, a moan rips out of you. 

Spanking your reddened cheek once more, he uses his other hand to unbutton his slacks and finally loosen the zippered prison suffocating his manhood. Untucking his shirt, he pushes his pants down around the top of his thighs, palming himself through the underwear still adorning his hips. Damn, even something this simple was driving his senses crazy, the wet spot growing in size when he grips his member. 

From his peripheral, he catches you turning your head to look back at him. Your eyes immediately focus on the hand trying to relieve himself of some of the pressure that had built up. The way you eat him up with just your gaze, makes his ego swell and his thumbs hook into his briefs; sliding them down to join his trousers, cock springing to smack against his clothed abdomen.

His eyes zero in on your teeth tugging your bottom lip into your mouth, before moving his attention to your weeping core, your juices leaking and landing on the wooden floor of his office. Shifting his gaze back to your perspired face, he wraps one large hand around himself and watches the way you abuse your bottom lip further.

“Hungry for cock, little girl?” He strokes himself, giving himself relief, as the whine that leaves your pouty lips strokes his pride. Once more he strokes himself, not at all embarrassed by the fact that you can see the head of his cock weeping to be inside of you. 

The look in your glassy eyes, and flushed cheeks tells him all he needs to know but he wants more. He needs to hear you say it, needs to hear you beg for him to take you. No matter how enticing you look, standing on the tips of your toes and swaying your core for him, he will withhold until he hears you beg.

Taking a step to close the space between you, he uses his hold on his member to smack your ass. You arch at the heavy weight of his manhood landing on the soft flesh of your cheek and he glides his free hand down your back, pushing your shirt up your back to reveal more of the soft skin beneath. Bending over you, he lands a few open mouth kisses onto the newly revealed flesh. Tongue lapping sensually, before he sucks the skin into his mouth harshly. 

You mewl pushing back against him, pulling a groan from him as you push against his cock, cushioning it between your cheeks. Standing tall once more, he places his hands on either side of your soft ass cheeks. Pushing them together, his hips push forward delighting in the satisfying friction you provided. 

He could feel you try to angle higher, desperately seeking to feel him elsewhere but he would not relent. With a smirk on his lips, he pulled his hips back and pushed forward, slotting himself between your lips, teasingly prodding your hooded bud with the head of his erection. A cry of frustration meets his ears, choosing to ignore it he wiggles his hips against you, rubbing against your heated, moist core. 

“Please...” a watery plea fills the heated air between you. 

Heart skipping a beat, he takes a moment to moisten his lips, hands sliding to caress your hips. “Please what?” His fingers rubbing soothing circles into your flesh, trying to coax the words out of you. “You need to tell me what you want so that I can give it to you.” His voice takes on a comforting tone.

“Please… I need you inside me,” you whisper, hands curling into fists at either side of your head. 

“I can’t hear you, little girl.” Namjoon pulls back slightly to circle your hole with his shaft. “Only those who speak up get what they desire.”

Silence reigns in the large office, as he waits patiently for your answer. He removes himself from you slowly, deciding to change tactics. If he couldn’t persuade you with his touch then he would deny you it completely. 

And it was then you pushed yourself up, turning desperate eyes to search for him. One dainty hand shooting out to grip at the sleeve of his shirt, tugging him closer. “Please! Please don’t!” you frantically beg. “I need you inside me! Professor Kim please fuck me!”

When he blinked, you were bent over the desk, one hand wrapped tightly in your silken strands and cock buried deep inside of you. A wanton moan clawing its way out of your throat, your walls squeezing him so hard as if they were trying to milk him right then and there. Taking a few calming breaths, he clenches his eyes shut trying to regain control over his baser instincts. 

Fuck, you felt amazing around him. He’d had you many times and yet he couldn’t get enough, he was like a starved wolf, you his prey. He knew he would never tire of getting lost within you. And that should’ve been enough to worry him, to get him to stop this illicit affair; this forbidden relationship between teacher and student. But he was not the strong man he thought himself to be. A few heated looks from your large doe eyes, and a couple of lewd words out of that innocent mouth of yours and he’s lost in the pure, unadulterated desire to conquer your pussy. 

“There’s something about a virtuos little mouth saying such filthy things that makes me want to fuck you raw.” He grinds his hips, burrowing himself deeper within you. “Let me remind you who this cunt belongs to.” He growls, pulling back before snapping his hips forward to bury himself inside again, pushing a cry out of you. 

Licking his lips he moans quietly, setting a hard pace. Plunging into you roughly, one hand gripping your hip as the other tugs on your hair. The lewd sounds of your sexes meeting and your arousal gushing out with each plunge spurring his need on. 

As if those weren’t enough, you were babbling in between moans, words almost incoherent stroking his ego and turning him on even more. The sounds you make are almost angelic to his ears, each moan growing in volume with every thrust. 

“Professor please, please, please” You plead uselessly as he pounds into your warmth. Your hands searching blindly for a place to find purchase before uselessly clenching by your head. 

“Please what, little one? What do you want?”

Your next words take him completely by surprise, and he knows once you’ve left you’ll feel mortified for having uttered them.

“Please! Stuff me full of your cum!” 

It takes every inch of self control he has to not empty himself right then and there. Although successful he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Pulling out of you, he pulls you to stand by your hair and turns you around. Hand wrapping around your neck he draws you close to place the lightest kiss on your lips. Hooking an arm around your waist, he effortlessly lifts your small form to sit at the edge of his desk. 

Leaning in, he presses his forehead against yours, centimeters separating your lips. Laying a hand on your pubic bone, he lazily flicks your clit with his thumb. Placing a kiss on your lips, the hand around your throat gently tightens, squeezing a soft moan out of you. 

A small grin curls Namjoon’s lips as he rubs them against yours. “You want me to stuff this little cunt?” 

The way you dreamily nod your affirmation, large eyes glazed over in arousal, has him press harder down on your bud. Your lips part in a silent cry as the grasp on your throat impedes anything more. 

He aligns himself at your entrance, but doesn’t push in. Instead he rubs tight circles against your bundle of nerves harder, gaze shifting to the pool of arousal on his desk. Swallowing the influx of saliva, he returns his gaze to you. 

“Are you sure, little one?”

“Yes, please.“ Your eyes meet as you give him verbal confirmation.

Not another word is exchanged, as he embeds himself to the hilt within your welcoming walls. He picks his rough pace up once more, spearing into your womb with desperation. All the while, his face maintained it’s cool facade. 

Relieving your clit of his rough touch, he lifts his hand and shoves it into your hair. Wrapping your strands tightly around his fingers, and pressing the digits of his opposing hand down on your pulse he crashes your mouth on his. Tongue shoving its way into your mouth to play and press against your own, teeth clicking as they crashed against one another. 

He growls into the sloppy kiss as he feels your walls begin to stutter around him. Breaking the kiss, he releases his grasp on your hair and guides you onto your back with the grasp he has on your throat. His other hand returns to its previous location on your pelvis, immediately setting about abusing your bundle of nerves. 

His dark eyes feast on your small form, spread open for him, taking in how your cunt sheathes him over and over. Your back arching off the wooden surface as your shoulders are pinned down by his hold on you. He can feel himself drawing closer with each shallow gasp, and cry  that escapes you. His balls tightening as he spears into you faster, he pressed his thumb furiously against your clit wanting you to cream around his hard cock, your walls milking him for what you desired most. 

“Cum for me, little one. Drench me in your sweet nectar,” he growls, perspiration dropping from his chin and landing on your abdomen. Thumb swiping roughly over your clit, pushing you over the edge as you tighten around him. “That’s right, let go. Milk me dry, you greedy little girl.” His hand releases your throat as your walls expand around him hands gripping your hips so tight he would later worry if he’d left marks, as he thrusts twice before sheathing himself fully into your hot cunt, and all sound ceases to exist the moment he reaches his peak; cock twitching as he spills his seed deep within you, a guttural groan leaving his lips. Aftershocks shoot up his spine like a tree branching out pleasure to every corner of his body.

He flinches, feeling the lightest touch of your fingers trace of his sweat-covered cheek. His senses slowly return to him, as his eyes flutter open to take in your angelic form. Face dewy with perspiration, large eyes roaming over his face and a gentle smile on your soft lips. 

The final sense to return is sound when he hears you whisper his name warmly. It makes his heart skip a beat, as he places his palms on either side of your waist, leaning his weight forward to catch his breath. His eyes roam over you, checking to make sure you’re alright. He sees the beginning of bruises around your hips and brushes his fingers soothingly over them. His eyes slide up to your neck, and he thanks his lucky stars there were none around your neck. 

Done with his assessment, he begins to shuffle back, a shiver runs up his back as his softened member slips out of your warm entrance. He pulls his briefs and slacks up, quickly tucking his shirt in before zipping and buttoning himself into his previously composed state. 

Brushing a hand through his hair, he leans down and picks up your discarded clothing. He gently helps you redress as you sit up on the edge of the desk. Placing soft kisses along your neck and forehead, quiet praises spilling from his lips as he tries to ensure you’re alright. He had not meant for things to go as far as they had, but the sight of your boyfriend had hit a nerve. He’d known about your relationship, long before your first encounter but it was easy to forget about someone he’d never spoken a single word to before, nevermind never interacted with. 

“Are you hurting anywhere?” He asks, seeking reassurance from you. His eyes could only take so much into account. 

“I’m fine. I promise.” Your words dispelling his worries, as you cup his cheek comfortingly. 

He nods, turning to place a kiss in your warm palm before pulling away; allowing you room to slip off the wooden surface. He watches you straighten your clothing, and run your fingers through your tangled strands, trying to make yourself look presentable. 

He hears you clear your throat, as you walk over to pick your bag up. You turn to look at him, and he can read your suddenly awkward body language, something he’s grown used to after each of your visits. Biting your lip, you clear your throat again. “I’ll be going now. I’ve got to catch up with…”

His jaw clenched at the reminder of your boyfriend, and he wonders if his face reveals his annoyance as you trail off mid sentence. Lifting his chin proudly, a scowl in his dark eyes as he looks down at you shifting uncomfortably. 

“You're still stuffed full of my cum, correct?” 

You nod, fingers fiddled with the edge of your skirt as you stared at the ground. 

“Good. I want you to keep it all inside of you while you’re with him.”

Your wide eyes shoot up to his own in incredulity. He sees your lips part and cuts you off before you can say a single word.

“I’ll be seeing you, for your next tutoring session.” He turns, walking behind his desk and reorganizing the mess on the it’s wooden surface. “You may leave now.” He looks up at your bewildered form, while he stacks a few of the books that had fallen on the ground.

His eyes follow your every move as you nod slowly, and carefully make your way to the entrance of his office. Unlocking the door, you swing it open and turn back to glance at him.

“Professor.”

“Seat 287.”

497 notes • Posted 2021-10-03 20:45:19 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[downn-in-flames]

I posted 351 times in 2021

86 posts created (25%)

265 posts reblogged (75%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 3.1 posts.

I added 572 tags in 2021

#look what queue made me do - 248 posts

#taylor swift - 64 posts

#six of crows - 55 posts

#and all the pieces fall - 48 posts

#shadow and bone - 42 posts

#and all the pieces fall asks - 36 posts

#and when you get me alone it's so simple - 34 posts

#hp - 18 posts

#jily - 14 posts

#jily fanfiction - 13 posts

Longest Tag: 130 characters

#he was like 'i cannot dock points because it is grammatically correct and the writing is good but jesus christ please use periods'

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

and all the pieces fall, chapter 9: if the story’s over, why am i still writing pages?

read it on: fft | ao3 | ffnet

"He also said he's throwing a party for New Year's," Mary throws out at the end. "He invited me and told me that if any of you want to come along, you're welcome to. It's mostly going to be people he's met after Hogwarts, so not too many people we know, but at the very least, the other Gryffindor boys will be there too."

Lily feels multiple sets of eyes glance over to her in that moment. She knows what they're all thinking. She's passed up on almost every social event involving people from their Hogwarts days for the same reason she'd avoided any interaction with the Portree Quidditch staff for the better part of her professional Quidditch career: she didn't want to risk a run-in with James if she could help it.

But now, the game has changed a little. Lily's no longer thinking about what might happen if she ever runs into him again - because she's done it, and it's gone exactly as horribly as she'd expected it would. She's got nothing to lose at this point.

47 notes • Posted 2021-06-23 18:48:28 GMT

#4

and all the pieces fall, chapter 8: chemistry, ‘til it blows up

read it on: fft | ao3 | ffnet

He puts his broom away with perhaps a little more aggression than is fully warranted. “Ignoring the ‘supposedly’ in there, because I’m not sure what the hell you’re trying to insinuate with that, what makes you think you have any right to just waltz into my life after three years and start telling me what to do with it? You don’t know my life anymore.”

His words sent a bolt of red-hot anger through her veins - it’s a well-placed hit, landing its mark on her perfectly.

“And whose fault is that?” she snaps.

“What?”

She takes a step towards him. “You’re right that I don’t know your life anymore. Whose fault is that? Who stopped replying to my letters and cut me off as soon as we graduated? I don’t know your life because you didn’t let me.”

57 notes • Posted 2021-05-15 15:16:00 GMT

#3

and all the pieces fall, chapter 10: back before you lost the one real thing you’ve ever known

read it on: fft | ao3 | ffnet

He cuts her off. "Oh no, Evans. You don't get to act like me picking a fight with you is so much different than what you've been doing constantly since the day I showed up here." There's anger in his voice now, a clear undercurrent in his previously deadly-calm demeanor. "Not when I know you do it for the exact same fucking reason I did."

"Which is?"

"Fighting with me is the most fun you've had in months."

He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and in a way, it is. There are so many parts of Lily that feel like they've gone numb, like they've shrunk or disappeared or gone dormant, and somehow, these moments with James… they feel like waking up. They feel like coming back to life again, after a long stretch of nothing but going through the motions and doing what's needed to stay alive and afloat.

It's anger, lighting her up, but it's something else too.

69 notes • Posted 2021-07-16 14:37:35 GMT

#2

and all the pieces fall, chapter 11: x marks the spot where we fell apart

read it on: fft | ao3 | ffnet

“Why the fuck would I want to kiss you?” The words come out of her mouth with nowhere near as much vitriol as she’d intended them to. Instead, she sounds breathy, needy, just the opposite of what she was trying to convey.

Because in contrast to what she’s said aloud, her brain is rather unhelpfully providing a number of answers to that question, even if it was meant to be rhetorical. The first being that the rest of her body is showing all the signs of wanting exactly that - her heart thudding a rapid rhythm in her chest, her breaths coming in shallow gasps, the way that her whole body’s practically keening into him even though he’s the one who’s got her pressed into the lockers.

And he’s… so fit. Even though his shirt’s on now, the tanned skin and taut muscles underneath it are permanently etched into her memory. His hair is completely windswept, and she wants nothing more than to run her fingers through it, because god, the perpetual sex hair is killing her. Being able to look but not touch has felt like a uniquely depraved sort of torture, and now, right in front of her, is the opportunity for relief.

And then, finally, there’s the obvious answer - she’s done it once before, and she knows exactly how good it feels.

70 notes • Posted 2021-08-15 14:25:46 GMT

#1

and all the pieces fall, chapter 12: can we dance through an avalanche?

read it on: fft | ao3 | ffnet

"I - I wasn't supposed to kiss you that night," he replies, as if that's somehow supposed to make things better.

She'd already gathered that he sees that night as a mistake somehow, she really doesn't need him slamming that fact in her face.

"Well you did, so you have to live with the fucking consequences. You can't just pretend it didn't happen just because you didn't want it to."

Now it's James' turn to laugh bitterly, and it catches her off guard. "Not wanting it couldn't be farther from the truth. You can't seriously think I didn't want to kiss you that night."

"I can't?" she asks disbelievingly, the slightest note of a challenge in her voice. "I certainly don't know how else I'm meant to interpret it."

He rakes his hand through his still-wet hair. "That kiss was… I'd thought about kissing you like that for the better part of seven years."

75 notes • Posted 2021-10-05 04:30:04 GMT

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[violet-knox]

Lucky Charm

Year 7 - Chapter 59

Summary: Severus meets you to wish you good luck before your first game of the season

Word count: 3069

Previous Chapter - Chapter 1 

~

The rain was pouring down hard and yet he still found himself waiting outside the stadium all because his girlfriend asked him to be there. He couldn’t remember a single day during his childhood where he felt this much hatred towards rainfall, especially heavy ones. When other children grew sad at the gloomy weather, he was happy to have something to help drown out the constant arguments echoing through every wall of his house. That had all changed when he met Lily. From that day forwards, he’d lived to see her, and the rain had interfered with those plans. The park where he’d usually expect to see her was empty and he’d stand there in the rain for such a long time, waiting for her to show up, hoping that she would. But when she never did, he’d run over to her house, chasing her like a lost puppy trying to find its owner. 

Today was an entirely different story. He knew you wouldn’t let rain come between you and your plans. He knew he wouldn’t be standing here for as long as he did back then because you were different. You loved him and though he would gladly wait here, standing miserably in the rain for days just to see you, he was sure you’d never enforce such a torturous thing on him. 

“Sev!” And as if right on queue, Severus turned around at the sound of your call to see you under the entrance of the Gryffindor changing room, gesturing for him to join you, away from the downpour. He smiled and immediately sprinted your way, stepping through the door before you closed it shut as he ruffled his dripping hair.

“You’re absolutely drenched!” you exclaimed and immediately went to grab a towel from the rack near the bathroom. You were quick to rejoin him, placing the towel over his head and drying his hair without a second look at him. “How long have you been out there?”

Severus only shrugged, knowing you wouldn’t approve of his answer. Instead, he stilled your hands and removed the towel from his head, throwing it on the nearest bench and snuck an arm around your waist, smiling like the love-struck boy he was.

“Sev, you should have knocked on the door, or just made your way to the stands. I can’t believe you just stood out there,” you said, furrowing your brows in concern as you brushed your fingers through his hair, pushing it back to reveal his glowing face. Despite his obvious glee, you couldn’t help but feel guilty for making him wait outside for so long, but it didn’t take long for your worries to fade as your eyes met his and you saw the smirk on his face. Watching his smile grow and the joy he showed every time he’d see you always seemed to have the power to melt away all of your worries, leaving you with nothing but the love between you. 

“So why did you want to see me before the game?” He asked softly, changing the subject as he stepped back from you and removed his outer robes, wrapping it up in his hands and squeezing it, letting a pool of water puddle on the floor. 

You watched him wave his wand over the puddle and vanish it before reaching for the locket under your now damp Quidditch uniform, unclasped it and let it fall into your hands. Severus turned his attention back to you, stopping his motions when he saw the familiar silver shine in the corner of his eye. It had been a while since he’d seen that locket, but it still had the same enchanting aura to it, especially when he saw his own name scribbled out on its cover as you held it.  

“I can’t wear this during the game,” you explained, “It could get caught on something or fly loose and get in my way and I just don’t want anything to happen to it.” Without another word, you grabbed his hand, fingertips as cold as ever and placed the locket in his palm before pushing his fingers to wrap around it.

“Keep it safe for me?” you asked, stepping as close as you could, eyes twinkling and lips stretched into the sweetest of smiles. “For luck?”

Severus’ eyes couldn’t leave the sight of his fist clutching onto the locket with your hands over it as if to protect and cherish the love between you and here you were, entrusting him with it when he knew how much that locket had meant to you. He hadn’t seen you go a day without wearing it, not one. Even over the summer, you’d show up to work with it, you even slept with it on, the cold metal always kept warm by your love and now it was his turn to do the same. 

“You want me to hold on to it?” He asked, wondering why you didn’t simply put it away with the rest of your belongings and place a protection charm over it if you really felt the need. 

You nodded your head as your smile grew wider. It was adorable how he still questioned your trust in him, even though he knew deep down how much faith you had in him. “I always want to keep it close to my heart.”

You moved your hands to gently stroke his arms, feeling your nerves settle back in as the time for the first game of the season approached. Eventually, the stress you felt became too overwhelming so you did the only thing you knew would help ease off the pressure and snuck a hand around his waist, pressing yourself into his slim figure, taking him a bit by surprise as his focus remained on the locket in his hand. 

He smiled as he opened the locket, touched at the thought that you would trust him with such a task. Watching as the figures displayed in his hand danced gracefully, he found himself stepping away from the jealous feeling he’d normally have of the boy you were with that night and instead had nothing but happiness for him. He’d come such a long way with you, grown so much as a person, all because of the second chance you’d granted him, not even Felix Felicis could have shown him as much luck as he’d received this past year. 

“Then I’ll guard it with my life,” he said, closing the locket, placing it at the bottom of his trousers’ pocket. Looking back at you, the smile he expected to fill his heart with complete bliss seemed to slowly fade off your face as a tone of worry began making itself apparent instead.

“What’s wrong?” He asked you, hooking a finger under your chin and bringing your gaze up to meet his. Your attention snapped from the depths of your thoughts to his eyes and you let the stress weighing you down slowly roll off your shoulders. 

“It’s nothing, I’m just really nervous,” you said, the petite volume of your voice giving away how truly worried you were. “What if we lose Sev? It's my first game as Captain, and if we lose, it’ll just show the whole world how unfit I am for this position.”

You spilled your guts, sharing your burden with him as you’d both learned to do over the last few months. He’d been your rock as you had him and you couldn’t imagine going through today without him, you couldn’t imagine spending the rest of your life without him. It was your game, your team, your future out on the line tonight but you both knew the pressure and stress you felt was shared between you both. He felt your anxiety rise and your concerns grow because you shared one soul.

“This is just the beginning of the season (Y/N). You're letting your nerves control your emotions, just breath and focus on the game.”

His words had you do nothing more than pull him closer, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist as you groaned into his chest. It was really the only reaction he could have ever expected from you knowing how you get when you were this stressed out. Still he couldn’t help his lips twitch into a subtle smile, finding the way you dug yourself into him absolutely endearing. 

“Would you feel better if I gave you a small token of luck?” He said as he stroked your hair in comfort. His comment definitely got your attention as you peeled yourself away enough to look up at him, wondering if ‘token of luck’ was code for a certain potion you knew he had the ability to brew. But his explanation was much more rewarding than any potion he could have offered you. “A kiss now and if you win, I’ll kiss you again after.”

“Oh?” You said, biting your bottom lip, failing to suppress the smile, giving away the fact that he’d successfully helped ease the pressure off of you. “You won’t kiss me if we lose?”

Severus let out a small hum as if he was debating the matter, obviously fouling no one when his joy for your lifted mood was so evidently written all over his face. Tilting his head and slowly leaning forward to close the distance between you, he pressed his lips to yours as he hugged you tightly. You moved your lips with his, as you moved your hands up his chest to tangle them in his damp hair, any remaining doubt washing away with his kiss. His touch was so soft and full of lust, eager to show you just how much he cares for you and you couldn’t wait to jump into his arms after the game, win or lose. 

“I’ll kiss you anyways,” he whispered as he parted your kiss, hovering his lips over yours.

You didn’t want to open your eyes because that would mean the moment was over and you couldn’t bear that just yet. Just a few more moments of this is all you wanted. You let your hands slip down from his hair and settle atop his jaw instead, your thumb grazing his cheek, his skin warm despite the chilly weather outside. 

You kept your gaze locked on his dark eyes as you slowly walked backwards, regrettably pushing him away. “I should get going,” you said, grabbing your broom. “And you, should go find a seat before the game begins. Hope you’ll be cheering me on?”

“Keeping your locket safe is one thing, but cheering for the opposing team,” he said, the exaggerated tone in his voice letting slip the sarcastic comment you could see coming from a mile away. “Well, I’d have to be mad to do such a thing.”

You laughed, loving how well you’d come to know him and his humour. Looking at him one more time, wishing he could join you on the pitch, you committed his smile to memory and continued to battle your growing anxiety with the comfort you felt with Severus as you slowly made your way out. Severus followed you to the door leading to the pitch and stayed out of sight as he watched you walk over to the rest of your team. He stood there, out of sight as you spoke with the Gryffindor team and found himself unable to take his eyes off you until you’d mounted your broom, kicked off the ground and fused with the rest of the Quidditch players in the air. 

He let out a content smile before grabbing his damp robes and made his way to find a seat alongside the other Slytherins. Sure to sit as close to the front row of the stands as he could, he began searching the sky for you and with that brand new broom of yours, it wasn’t too hard of a task. He admired the way you elegantly glided through the air as he reached into his pocket and clutched the locket holding it tightly in his fist.

Nothing could have kept him from watching you lead your team to victory one pass at a time, not even the progressively worsening weather. He could only imagine what it would have been like if you’d played for the Slytherin team instead. The humiliation he was sure you’d put Potter through, snatching the Quidditch fame he loved so much away from him and claiming it as your own. His old friends would have been celebrating you, admiring your relationship together, envious of him. But at the end of the day, it really didn’t matter what house you played for, even if it was Gryffindor. It didn’t change your perfection and it definitely didn’t change the way he saw you; his angel of amour, flying through the air. 

The game was over, and everyone was making their way back to the castle, but he couldn’t find it in himself to head to the Astronomy Tower where he’d agreed to wait for you. He didn’t want to walk through the rain and sit there alone like all those weeks he’d spent in that same corner before he met you. He wanted to walk down to the Gryffindor changing room, to hug you, to congratulate you for the first win of the season. But of course, like every other good thing in his life, there had to be some barrier in his way. 

Looking to his left, he briefly debated if he should just stay out in the rain and wait for you outside the change room but quickly decided against it after thinking about the look on your face when you realized he’d stood there drenched, waiting for you again. So instead, he hung onto the thought of seeing your face glowing the second you stepped into the room at the top of the Astronomy Tower and made his way over to sit in your usual corner. 

Bringing his knees up to his chest, he placed his hands in front of him and unhinged his fist to reveal the locket he’d held onto the last two hours. Your name was etched onto the cover and he felt like he could spend the rest of his life memorizing every curve, every dent of your handwriting. Clicking it open he watched the figures in the locket resume their dance, slowly swaying in each other's arms. You looked so at peace with him and he could almost hear the song playing at the time of the Ball in his head. It was a magnificent night, an almost perfect moment with the person he cared the most about in this world and it saddened him to remember the look on your face at the end of it when he’d ruined it all. 

You’d left the pitch as soon as you could, dismissing the team, knowing they were ready to head back to the common room and celebrate, so you let them go, feeling your own excitement rise as you jogged down towards the Astronomy Tower. Severus looked so focused, living in his own mind and ignoring the world around him as you spotted him the second you stepped through those doors. Walking towards him, you wondered what had him so grasped away from reality, he was uncharacteristically unaware you’d entering the room. 

“Guess it worked,” you said softly as you watched Severus and noticed your locket in his hands. “My lucky charm.”

Severus smiled when he saw you, closing the locket and jumping to his feet, quickly rushing towards you. You could hardly process his movement before you found yourself in his arms, his hands pressing you into his chest as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. You hugged him back and smiled at his sudden affection, watching him lift his head to give you the kiss he’d promised to give you.

“You don’t need luck,” he whispered, as he parted, meeting his forehead with yours. “You’re amazing all on your own.”

After all these months together, you still couldn't get used to his compliments, heat rising to your cheeks every time he did. His joy in the words he spoke to you however was evident every time he got you alone.

“You did well today,” he added as he leaned back and opened his eyes.

“You really think so?” You’d won yet you still couldn't help nitpicking every little mistake you’d made, ever slip up one of your teammates made when executing a play you’d been practicing over the last two months. You could have done better, your team should have done better, but you couldn’t let that compulsive nature that sat buried in your chest take over. You won, and you should be happy, you should celebrate with Severus because this is what you wanted; to start off the season with a bang. 

“I know so.”

Severus let his grip loosen, stepping back from you and holding up the necklace in his hands, holding it by its chain. Unclasping the hook, he motioned for you to turn around before placing it over your neck and securing it. The second your locket hit your chest, you reached for it, feeling the metal warm from his touch between your fingers as you looked down to see his name appear, replacing your own. 

When you felt him let go of the chain, you turned around and took his hand, leading him back to the corner you’d found him in and began talking about how well your team has been training during practice. You went on to speak about the plans you had in mind for your next practice and all the moves you wanted them all to learn but Severus couldn’t help his mind wander once again, your voice blurring as he took your hand and let his fingertips explore your texture of your skin.

You quickly noticed his lack of attention to your words and began reciprocating his touch instead. After a few teasing brushes, you intertwined your fingers with his and leaned into him, cuddling against his side. 

You both sat there a while, in silence, exchanging a few subtle motions; your fingers through his hair, his lips pressed to your temple, your soft caresses to his leg. Nothing but bliss and lust filled the room and you were sure that no one could have been happier than you in this moment.

~

Next Chapter

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@goldensaviour  /  sc ❤.✧･ﾟ*

               “No, we don’t have the pitch tonight. Teams are grounded until someone comes forward for the enchanted quaffle during Ravenclaw’s practice.”