#Harry Potter x Reader

[snowluvvie]

you’re one of those girls that’s always batting your eyes at Harry. not cause he’s the chosen one, just cause he’s hot. he tells you Luna fixed his broken nose and you say somethin cute like “aww thank god, wouldn’t wanna mess up that face!!” and he gets all flustered and kinda stutters a little bit and then says “yeah.. uh yeah.. thanks? thanks.” you’re making his no-longer-broken nose a whole thing. you’re doting on him, dabbing blood off of his face with a cloth in the common room bathroom. you’re just really close to eachother’s faces on accident and the real mystery of the day is who kissed who first? doesn’t matter, y’all are kissing. his blood is on your face but it doesn’t slow either of you down. his hair is so soft when you tangle your fingers through it. whatever. you’re making out with Harry Potter while blood is dripping down his face and you’ve imagined kissing him sooo many times but it still manages to be better than you thought it would be, and he’s shocked it’s happening at all cause you’re so hot. when you guys pull away and he sees the little smear of blood across your lips and nose he’s profusely apologizing knowing damn well he’s just getting harder the longer he looks at you. he’d never tell you that, though

bonus, he’s lamenting to Ron later: “what the hell was i s’posed to say? aye, you look bloody hot with my blood all over your face? she’d think i was stark raving mad!” and Ron’s going “you never know what birds are into these days, mate” shaking his head and shrugging

[junezsq]

dance with me?

harry james potter x fem!reader

summary: after getting ditched by your date your night at the yule ball seems to be getting worse by the minute, until you bump into harry, who coincidentally also got ditched

warnings: bit of angst turning into fluff, nothing else really

word count: 2.9k

a/n: the order of events in the books/movie is kinda switched up so i could make them fit the narrative in this lmfao. hope you enjoy <3

── ᵎᵎ ✦

the dormitory was quiet, save for the muffled noise of laughter and footsteps drifting up from the common room below. you were perched on the edge of your bed, legs swinging slightly and hands clasped in your lap as you waited for hermione to finish changing behind the curtain drawn around her bed. the air smells faintly of lavender, and the soft rustle of fabric is the only sound between you.

then the curtain pulled back and hermione stepped out.

you blink. for a second, you're genuinely stunned. the periwinkle blue of her dress robes caught the low light in a way that made her look like something out of a fairy tale; elegant and radiant in a way you’d never quite seen her before.

“wow,” you breathed, a slow smile tugging at your lips. “hermione… you look beautiful.”

she blushed immediately, glancing down at herself before tucking a curl behind her ear. “thank you.” her voice was softer than usual, touched by something shy and proud all at once. “i wasn’t sure about it at first, to be honest.”

“you shouldn’t have doubted it,” you said, meaning it. “you’re going to turn so many heads tonight.”

she rolled her eyes at that, but she was smiling. her eyes flickered to you where you were still in your jeans and the sweatshirt you’d gotten from mrs. weasley just that morning. “all right, it’s your turn. go on, change! we don’t have all night,” she urged, hands waving you toward your trunk.

you hesitate, heart giving a strange little jump. “yeah… alright.” you made your way over, pulling the dress out and slipping behind your own curtain. the satin felt cool against your skin, and as you wriggled into it, your nerves started to rise. after smoothing it down not once, but twice, you glanced into the little mirror propped on your nightstand.

the dress was beautiful, objectively; floor-length, sleeveless, simple in design but rich in color. but on you? you didn’t step out immediately. “it’s kind of weird, isn’t it?” you called softly. “wearing green. as a gryffindor.”

hermione’s voice was warm and immediate. “one of the slytherin’s might send you a nasty look, but who cares about them? green’s lovely on you.”

you bit your lip and finally stepped out. her eyes widened, and she beamed. “oh, wow.”

you crossed your arms over your stomach, suddenly feeling exposed. “i don’t know. it just feels… not me. or too much me. i can’t decide.”

hermione got up from her bed and walked over to you, placing her hands gently on your shoulders. “you look stunning,” she smiled, her gaze steady. “green suits you. honestly, you could wear a green rubbish bag and still look beautiful.”

you laughed, but it sounded nervous. “i don’t know if i should even go. i mean… the one person i wanted to go with asked someone else.”

her expression softened. she knew. of course she knew; she was the only one who did.

“hey,” she spoke gently, “i know it’s not harry, but that doesn’t mean the whole night has to be ruined. you’ve got a date who seems really kind, you’re dressed like a goddess, and you’ve got at least one friend who plans on making sure you have a good time no matter what.”

your heart squeezed. “you’re really good at this whole ‘pep talk’ thing.”

she grinned as she looped her arm through yours, “come on, let’s go make an entrance.”

you hesitate for one last second. then, with a breath and a final check over your shoulder, you nodded. together, you headed down the winding staircase toward the common room, the soft swish of your dress and the flicker of firelight mingling with your growing excitement.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:

the music swelled, and after watching the four champions start off the dancing sequence you let your date guide you out onto the floor of the great hall, now transformed into a winter wonderland. candles flickered like stars above, casting a golden sheen across the swirling gowns and polished shoes.

you glanced up at your date, a tall boy from ravenclaw. he bowed, you curtsied and the first notes of the waltz began. you could almost hear mcgonagall counting at the back of your mind; one-two-three, one-two-three.

you moved in unison, steps careful at first, then more fluid as you found the rhythm together. his hand was warm against yours, his other lightly resting at your waist. you spun beneath his arm, the hem of your dress fluttering at the movement. around you, couples twirled like snowflakes, and for a few heartbeats, the rest of the world melted away.

when the music faded into polite applause, you were breathless but smiling. he squeezed your hand gently. “i’ll get us something to drink,” he spoke softly, and you nodded before he disappeared into the crowd.

a gasp and your name being called caught your attention and as you turned around you saw lavender brown holding onto the arm of a hufflepuff you didn't seem to recognise. her eyes were widened as they went over your outfit, "your dress! i love it!"

you smiled at the sweet compliment. you'd never really been close to lavender but she'd always been kind to you, "thanks lavender, you look beautiful too."

"thank you." she returned your smile, "well, we're going in for a few more dances, see you around!" she squeezed her date's arm and they swept away before you could say anything else, her dress flaring dramatically as she went.

while your eyes followed them as they walked off they caught the sight of someone who was clearly your date, sweet talking a girl from beauxbatons. you squinted and took a few steps closer to get a better look only to find out his arm was cozily wrapped around her waist.

a scoff fell from your lips. you hadn’t even wanted to go with him. he was the fourth guy to have asked you and it felt easier saying yes than no by then, easier than explaining that you were still waiting for someone else to ask; someone who probably wasn't going to ask you anyway.

you weren’t heartbroken, not even close, but irritation flared anyway, like he’d wasted your time, like you'd worn these damn shoes for nothing. you let out a breath, slow and quiet, as the music swelled around you. the lights felt too warm suddenly. the laughter too loud. the enchanted snow drifting from the ceiling too perfect.

without thinking you turned and walked toward the exit, the train of your dress catching slightly on the stone floor as you moved. the corridor outside was blissfully cooler, empty save for the faint echo of music and your own footsteps.

you had barely rounded the corner when you collided into someone with a quiet “oof.” you staggered back a step, your hand flying to your chest. "sorry-"

“it’s alright,” said a familiar voice and when you looked up you saw him.

one of your best friends, harry potter, stood blinking at you, looking as charming as ever in his brand new dress robes. “oh,” you breathed, and suddenly your pulse felt louder than the music. “hi.”

his mouth curved into the faintest smile, almost sheepish. “hi. are you leaving?”

for a moment you hesitated; you could still feel the ghost of annoyance in your chest, but it was softening now, replaced by a flicker of something else.

“i was heading to the bathroom,” technically not a lie. you gave him a lopsided shrug. “needed some air.”

he nodded, then looked like he wanted to say something more. “so … your date ... is he still in there?”

your fingers tightened slightly around the fabric of your dress. “oh you mean edmund, uhh, yeah,” your voice sounded even, maybe too even. you didn’t want to get into it, didn’t want to admit how annoyed you were, or how stupid you felt for saying yes in the first place.

harry nodded slowly, like he could sense there was more you weren’t saying, but wasn’t going to push. you gave a small shrug, aiming for casual. “i just needed a break. it’s loud in there.”

he gave a quiet, sympathetic laugh. “tell me about it."

“what about you? who did you end up with?”

harry blinked, a little caught off guard. “uh, parvati” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “i just went to the bathroom too, actually. she's grabbing us drinks.”

you studied him, noticing the slight hesitation, the way his eyes flicked toward the hall before settling back on you, and how his story sounded a bit too similar to yours. “drinks?” you repeated, tone light but probing.

he shrugged, voice a bit quieter now. “yeah. you know… pumpkin fizz and all that.”

you studied him. there was something he wasn’t saying, something he was careful to keep between the lines. "alright, well i'm going to-" you tilted your head slightly but harry quickly caught on, "yeah, yeah i'm going to find parvati, i guess."

a small smiled played on your lips and you tried your hardest not to let the sad tone fall through, "have a good night, harry." you spoke softly before walking past him and continued on towards the bathroom, not noticing how harry turned to watch you walk off.

you walked slowly now, letting the corridor stretch out before you. the music behind you faded into something distant and muffled. the heels of your shoes clicked softly against the stone, the only real sound in the quiet.

the bathroom was empty when you pushed the door open, the enchanted torches flickering gently against the walls. you didn’t bother looking at yourself in the mirror, but went straight for one of the stalls. after closing the door behind you, you sat down on the closed lid like the air had been punched out of your lungs.

for a moment you just sat there, staring at nothing, the layers of your dress gathered awkwardly around your legs. it was stupid, really. edmund wasn’t someone you even cared that much about. harry… well, that was its own mess. and still, somehow, everything felt like too much. too loud. too heavy. too disappointing.

your throat tightened and you blinked hard.

no. not here.

you leaned forward, elbows on your knees, hands twisted together as you pressed your lips together, forcing the air out through your nose in slow, steady breaths. a tear slipped down anyway, tracing a warm line down your cheek. you wiped it away before the next one could fall, though.

It wasn’t just tonight. It was all of it. expectations, hopes, the quiet letdowns you never admitted you were bracing for. the ball had been shiny and beautiful, and somehow it had still managed to make you feel like you were on the outside of it all.

but then you thought of the corridor. of harry’s sheepish grin. of the way he’d looked at you like he saw you, even if only for a moment. you straightened slowly, letting out a breath that felt like it had been sitting in your chest for days.

no. you weren’t going to let this ruin your night.

eventually you escaped the small stall, smoothed your dress, checked your face in the mirror, your eyes were a little red, but not tragic, and gave yourself the smallest nod.

and so, you pushed the door open and stepped back into the corridor, the music growing louder again as you turned toward the light. time to go make the night fun anyway. even if it was just for you.

you were just rounding the bend near the marble staircase, the glow of torchlight stretching across the floor in front of you, when you heard it; soft, choked sniffling.

you slowed and at first you thought it might be peeves playing some horrible trick, but as you came around the curve, your heart sank. hermione.

she was sitting near the middle of the stairs, half tucked into herself, her arms wrapped around her knees. her dress, now a little wrinkled, spilled across the steps like it didn’t matter anymore. her face was turned away, but you could see the way her shoulders trembled.

you hesitated only a second before moving toward her. “hey,” you spoke gently, not wanting to startle her.

she flinched slightly before glancing up, eyes red and glistening, and quickly wiped at them with the back of her hand. “oh. sorry- didn’t mean to-”

“it’s alright, mione” you said, already sitting down beside her. “bathrooms are taken anyway.” she let out a watery laugh, and you offered a small smile in return.

for a moment, neither of you spoke; you didn’t want to push, but you hated the way her hands clenched the fabric of her dress, like she needed something to hold onto. “is it… krum?” you asked gently. “did he say something?”

hermione shook her head quickly. “no. viktor’s… he’s been nothing but kind.”

you nodded slowly, giving her space. she looked away again. “it’s just-” her voice broke, and she took a deep breath. “it’s not really about him. not exactly.” you knitted your brows in slight confusion. her jaw tightened, and when she spoke again, her voice was quieter. “boys can be so stupid sometimes.”

you let out a breath and let out a knowing chuckle. “yeah, they can.”

she returned your laugh, but there was too much sadness behind it. you didn’t need all the details. something to do with ron, probably. the way he’d been staring at her and krum all evening like someone had hexed him in the face with jealousy and hadn’t told him why.

"where's edmund?" hermione looked at you worriedly, as if she wasn't the one just crying her eyes out.

you lightly shook your head as you rolled your eyes, "probably snogging a girl from beauxbatons somewhere in one of the courtyard bushes."

"oh no, i'm sorry."

"no, it's alright, you know i didn't want to go with him," you spoke softly, “do you want to come back in? we could get some more pumpkin fizz, go for a dance.”

hermione shook her head. “i think i’m just going to go back to the dorm. i’m tired.”

you didn’t argue. instead, you stood and offered her your hand. she took it and you helped her up gently. for a moment she just stood there, looking small and a little worn out, her fingers still loosely wrapped around yours. “thanks,” she said quietly.

you gave her hand a light squeeze. “anytime, mione, you know that”

and as she turned to head up the staircase, you watched her go, her silhouette slipping into shadow. when she'd completely disappeared you turned back toward the great hall, the music still playing faintly, and started walking.

eventually, you found yourself at the threshold of the great hall, just outside the glow of its golden enchantment. music floated out warmly, cheerful and unaware, while students spun and laughed beneath drifting snow and starlight. it looked perfect from a distance.

you weren’t sure if you wanted to step back into it or turn around and follow hermione to the dorms. as you shifted your weight, the hem of your dress brushed against your ankles, and you took a slow breath.

“hey.”

the voice made you jump slightly and when you turned, you found harry standing right next to you, hands shoved into his pockets again. “sorry,” he added quickly. “didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

you shook your head. “it’s alright.”

“i, um… saw edmund.” harry’s voice was careful, like he wasn’t sure if he should say it at all. “in one of the side corridors. he was... uh... definitely not by himself.”

you didn’t say anything, but he rushed on, filling the space. “he was snogging someone. from beauxbatons, i think. blonde, tall, looked like she knew exactly what she was doing.”

you stared past him, lips pressing together. you weren’t surprised. not after seeing them flirting earlier that night, and you almost laughed at how you’d predicted this when talking to hermione earlier. “i’m sorry,” harry spoke in almost whisper, sounding like he meant it.

you let out a quiet breath. “it's fine, i didn’t even want to come with him.”

harry gave a faint, dry laugh. “yeah. i kind of get that.”

you glanced at him, curious despite yourself, your brows furrowed together. he shifted on his feet. “parvati ditched me for some durmstrang bloke. the one with the ponytail and, what I’m assuming are very impressive cheekbones.”

you snorted; it slipped out before you could stop it, causing harry to focus his gaze on you, and you looked at him again, really looked. you could see that same flicker of uncertainty you’d felt earlier. not just his night ruined, him, standing here, trying to decide if it was still worth salvaging. just like you.

“guess we’re in the same boat,” you breathed, not being able to look away from his piercing green eyes.

“yeah,” he replied, his voice a little lighter now. “except… i think ours hasn’t completely sunk yet.”

you raised an eyebrow. “no?”

he shook his head, then held out his hand to you. “dance with me?”

you blinked. for a second, all you could hear was the music filtering through the open doors. you looked at his hand, then at him; his earnest eyes, slightly crooked collar, and that unsure little smile that somehow made you feel steadier.

so, you returned his smile, and took his hand in yours.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

SOUNDTRACK // totally, inhaler

TAGLIST // @callsigncrushx @moonjellyfishie @accio-mayachhiato @iyskgd @bakugouswaif

[colmiillo]

I'm not just a bitch, I'm a bitch with a backstory

[godricgryffinsnore]

If you’re taking requests can I have a Harry Potter x reader with a pregnancy scare during hogwarts pls? And reader proper freaking out cause they’re so young and not ready so Harry is soft and calming and soothing and turns out not preggo but they both think one day

The Bump That Wasn’t ♡ : A Harry Potter Fan Fiction.

pairing : Harry Potter x fem!reader

summary : When an unexpected situation sends tension rippling through Hogwarts and later the Burrow, Harry and the reader navigate the chaos with love, patience, and a dash of humor. With their friends awkwardly supportive and family more involved than expected, the couple learns that even the scariest moments can lead to the sweetest promises.

warnings : Mild suggestive content, Pregnancy scare (may be triggering for some), Light panic/anxiety themes, Flustered characters and secondhand embarrassment, Over-involved family members (humorous), Lots of emotional fluff and teasing. Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3.

della's note : Thank you so so so much for requesting, babe!!!

word count : 1.1k

main master list

banners : @ithemes and @cafekitsune

Setting: Seventh Year, Gryffindor Tower, post-battle era but Hogwarts is rebuilt.

You sat perched on the edge of the Gryffindor girls’ dormitory bathtub, clutching a potion bottle like it was a bomb.

“I’ve ruined my life,” you whispered.

“No, love, you haven’t.” Harry crouched beside you, his green eyes soft but mildly terrified.

“Oh yeah?” you hissed, “You say that now, but wait till McGonagall finds out I might be growing a baby in her castle!”

Harry held up both hands like you were a frightened unicorn. “Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. We don’t know anything yet. Maybe you’re just late—stress, hormones, you know, school, war trauma—remember? We died last year, literally.”

“I didn’t die, Harry.”

“Well, I did, so I win. Now please, sweetheart, drink the potion.”

You stared at the bottle. “What if it turns blue?”

He gently tucked your hair behind your ear. “Then we handle it. Together. Like we always do. I love you.”

“Don’t say sweet things to me right now, I might cry and vomit.”

“Valid.”

── .✦

Two Hours Earlier:

Ron dropped his toast as you sprinted out of the Great Hall, face pale as Nearly Headless Nick’s knees.

“I… I think she’s going to hurl,” he said, alarmed. “Did someone feed her a Fanged Frisbee?”

Harry went after you. Hermione leaned in. “She’s late, Ronald.”

Ron blinked. “Late for what? Oh. OH.”

“Don’t look like you’re about to pass out—you’re not the maybe-father!”

── .✦

Back in the dorm bathroom, you finally drank the damn potion with your eyes squeezed shut.

“…It’s pink,” you breathed, peeking one eye open.

“Pink! That’s good, right?” Harry said, practically hugging the toilet in relief.

“Yes, pink means not pregnant,” you sighed, falling against the wall, limbs limp with dramatic despair. “Thank Merlin.”

He sat beside you, hands laced with yours. “Well. That was… terrifying.”

“Do you think this is karma for all that snogging in the Room of Requirement?”

“No, that was good karma.”

“…Harry.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled. “Look, we weren’t ready. You were right to freak out. But I meant it—I’d have done it with you. All of it. Nappies. Sleepless nights. The whole Weasley-nursery package.”

You turned your head toward him. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” He leaned in and kissed your forehead, then mumbled against your skin, “One day, yeah? I’d like that. With you.”

You sighed, melting into his side. “You’re too sweet. I should marry you before someone else tries.”

“You better,” he said smugly.

── .✦

Later That Night:

The four of you were curled up in the common room. Ron was feeding you sweets like you’d run a marathon. Hermione was watching you like she was ready to knit baby clothes just in case.

“I googled—I mean, researched—baby potion side effects,” Hermione said.

“Yeah?” you asked warily.

“Turns out if you are pregnant, you sometimes taste chocolate like cabbage. You gagged earlier when Ron handed you that cauldron cake.”

“She always gags when I hand her food,” Ron said, wounded.

“You once offered me a Liquorice Wand dipped in ketchup.”

“That was an experiment.”

Harry kissed your cheek and whispered, “Still negative.”

You smiled tiredly, hands curled in his jumper. “Yeah. But someday, yeah?”

“Someday,” he whispered.

Ron, from the couch: “Oi, not too soon though! I’d like to graduate without becoming Uncle Ron the Diaper Master.”

Hermione smacked him.

Harry chuckled, pulling you close.

You whispered, “I think we’d make cute kids.”

“Obviously. You’re the hottest witch in the castle.”

“You’re so full of it.”

“I’m full of love. And panic. But mostly love.”

── .✦

Setting: A week later at The Burrow. Post-Hogwarts. You and Harry are visiting the Weasleys.

The scent of cinnamon and warm bread filled The Burrow as you sat politely at the table, sipping tea and pretending not to see the suspiciously tiny knitted jumper folded neatly beside the biscuits.

You nudged Harry with your foot under the table. He looked at you, then followed your eye line—and promptly choked on his tea.

Ron looked up from buttering his scone. “You alright, mate?”

Harry, wheezing: “M’fine. Died once. This is worse.”

“I knew something was off,” Hermione muttered. “Molly’s been humming lullabies and bought baby booties in Diagon Alley yesterday.”

You leaned forward, voice as casual as you could fake it: “Mrs. Weasley, what’s the jumper for?”

“Oh, this?” Molly beamed, patting the tiny blue thing with golden snitch embroidery. “Well, I heard—and I do apologize if I’m being forward, dear—but I heard you two might be expecting?”

You made a noise that was somewhere between a cough and a mouse being hexed.

Harry’s eyes were wide, hands frozen around his mug like it was a lifeline. “Who told you that?!”

Ron raised his hand slowly like a guilty schoolboy. “I may have mentioned you two were acting weird last week.”

Hermione groaned into her hands. “Ronald, you don’t mention things like that unless there’s an actual baby.”

“I didn’t say there was one! I just said they looked like they were either about to faint or propose!”

You turned to Molly, cheeks burning. “Mrs. Weasley, I swear we’re not pregnant.”

Molly’s smile didn’t fade. “Not yet, dear.”

Harry made another dying noise.

Ginny appeared from the living room with Fred and George’s enchanted baby toy (which farted glitter) and whispered, “You lot know Mum already picked out a nursery theme, right?”

“Murder me,” you muttered, sliding slowly down your chair.

── .✦

Later That Night:

You and Harry lay in the cramped attic room, limbs tangled and faces still crimson from the Dinner of Doom.

“She knitted a jumper, Harry.”

“She said she’d keep it ‘just in case.’”

“Just in case?!” you sat up, exasperated. “Are we cows now? ‘Just in case this one births something in spring, best knit early!’”

Harry tried to stifle a laugh, but you glared. He immediately sobered. “No, no, you’re right. Terrifying. Very traumatic. Please don’t hex me, little one.”

You flopped back down beside him. “…Do you think she’s disappointed?”

He rolled onto his side to face you, tracing your knuckles with his fingers. “Maybe. But she’ll be overjoyed when we are.”

You gave him a side-eye. “You sound very sure of yourself.”

“I mean, I’ve seen your baby pictures. Can you imagine a little version of you with my glasses? Or your eyes and my messy hair?”

“…I’m not crying. Shut up.”

Harry leaned in, kissed your tear-damp cheek. “Someday.”

“Someday,” you whispered, curling into his chest. “But first, please stop letting Ron talk.”

“Deal.”

── .✦

Meanwhile downstairs:

Molly placed the jumper back in the drawer with a soft smile.

Arthur peeked in. “No baby?”

“Not yet,” she said.

Arthur kissed her temple. “Should we tell the twins to stop making that baby toy that sings 'It’s a Boy!' every time someone sneezes?”

Molly grinned. “Let them keep it. I have a feeling we’ll need it soon enough."

[kylopen]

Me looking for fan fictions but instead I get flashed by sex bot ads under the same tag

[yasministration]

love the concussions n interruptions series!! was wondering how did each friend group react to the relationship :3

pansy knew... she knew every single step of the way. she knew when you had a week long crush on harry in third year after watching slytherin play a game against gryffindor for the first time. she knew that despite being there to support your friends, you were staring at harry potter from the game's start to finish. that entire week, you couldn't help yourself from staring a little too long in shared classes, but you eventually shook it off. pansy made fun of you for it the entire time, and when you finally came running to her that harry potter kissed you three years after that, it was the first thing she referred back to. 'i guess that crush never really went away, did it?' she asked, and you felt your face heat up 'pansy, you know that's not what happened. we've gotten close' and she'd roll her eyes a little too hard and say 'i know, i know'

but the rest of the friend group found out by mistake.

when you came back from another date with him, after he kissed you too lovingly - in a way that your lips would remember forever. you were giddy, obviously. the boy you liked had feelings for you too, and he spent every moment around you showing you. he even smiled at you in the hallways, and you returned the smile, neither of your friends noticing anything. it wasn't that you didn't want them to know, it was just so new. so when you returned to the common room after that date, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt, pansy couldn't help but ask 'what has he done now?'

'pansy, he's such a good kisser' you'd say, sinking into the couch next to her. unanimously, draco, theo and blaise would all straighten up, heads snapping towards you like protective older brothers. 'who's this?' you went silent, face falling as you thought up an excuse, but pansy was quick to let them know exactly who had kissed you.

the slytherin common room was chaos that night. blaise had leaned back in his spot and muttered 'yeah, i had a feeling something was going on between you', while draco and theo went insane over it. it was a surprise, but who were they to tell you who you could and couldn't date? (unless it was mclaggen). they upped the rivalry with your new boyfriend from then, testing his patience, seeing how much he could take before snapping. he never did, only ever finding your eyes in the room and smiling at the apologetic look on your face. you'd make it up to him with kisses later, so it would all be okay.

harry began catching feelings for you a few months before he finally made his move, and he was conflicted. he knew about the drama his parents had with many slytherins during their time at hogwarts. he was warned about them - not in a 'stay away at all costs' way, but in a 'be careful who you become friends with' way. it certainly didn't help that ron had such a deeply rooted hatred for slytherins, or that he had some sort of rivalry against some of your best friends.

so he went back to his most trusted friend, and waited until everyone else had gone up to the common room to tell neville about everything. it felt good to get things off his chest, to put it out in the open instead of keeping it secret. and neville understood, said he could see you both as a couple. it wasn't difficult to notice the chemistry you had from the friendship you had built the past couple of months. hermione was the next to know - not because he told her but because she was so observant. she noticed the way you and harry smiled at each other across the classroom, or how your sarcastic comment when you were paired together in potions was only half-hearted. she saw the way he waited for you to pack your things up after class, and you placed a hand over his forearm as a silent goodbye before leaving.

but above all that, she watched you in the corner of the library, with matching smiles on your faces as you spoke softly, only pretending to study. she had been looking for a quiet space to study, but found something so much better. hermione couldn't help the smile on her face when harry shuffled closer to you, and your faces were only inches away from each other, and she didn't feel guilty for watching as you cupped his face in your hands, caressing his soft skin before harry pushed his lips against yours, glasses immediately going crooked on his face. you kissed for a long moment, giggling when the kiss broke, and hermione decided to walk away then.

harry caught the movement in the corner of his eye, recognising the curly hair that disappeared behind a bookshelf. he confronted her that night, and she just said in a comforting voice 'if you don't want me to have seen anything, then i didn't'. harry smiled, telling her he was just worried what ron would think.

'what i would think about what?' harry laughed. of course this would happen. but he still turned to look at the ginger boy who sat down next to them, saying 'my girlfriend.'

it was a guessing game from there. ron thought up a list of every girl in the castle he wouldn't approve of harry dating and began naming them. harry was oddly comforted when your name didn't pop up in the list, and even happier when seamus, lavender and dean joined in the little game, until they ran out of names. when he finally told them, they had all made a little noise of surprise. it was silent until lavender said 'oh yeah, i really don't mind y/n, she always gossips with us in the bathroom between lessons and she's pretty funny. also, gorgeous.'

harry was relieved to know that lavender didn't have any dirty stories on you, instead giving him her word of approval. 'yeah,' added ron 'i thought it was going to be goyle or something' and the entire group had laughed.

the next day, harry found you in the courtyard, and you had grinned widely at the sight of him, pansy sitting across from you. you extended an arm towards him, and he immediately brought you in a hug, kissing you softly on the lips as he pulled away. pansy's eyes widened, and your breath hitched in your throat at the bold move. you felt eyes following you from across the courtyard, but harry kept his hands on your waist as he told you that his friends knew. you let out a relieved sigh and brought your boyfriend into another hug, but in that moment, draco, theo and blaise decided to join you.

the three of them immediately through sarcastic comments his way, but harry somehow knew it didn't mean anything bad. if anything, it was only the start of something good.

[saintfaux]

[stxrsberkshire]

whenever there’s no new fics under my favorite x reader tags, an angel loses its wings

[fear-less]

🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖ apple cider I ⌗ pairing: sirius black x f!reader

ᝰ.ᐟ summary: Sirius doesnt even like you that much, wait–he does, fuck!

⤑ warnings: fluff, light angst, mutual pining, Sirius is mean but emotionally repressed, accidental insults, eavesdropping, awkward feelings, slow burn (kinda), happy ending

Sirius never meant to be rude to you. It just… happened.

Instead of speaking to you like a normal person, he’d hand you a backhanded compliment, or make a remark so blunt it came out more like an insult. Sometimes you hadn’t even said a word, just happened to be nearby,  and he’d still find something to comment on.

At first, he genuinely thought he couldn’t stand you.

You were quiet, but not shy, never fawning over him like others did. You didn’t play his games, didn’t laugh at his jokes unless they were actually funny, and never seemed particularly bothered by his presence.

That annoyed him. Or… that’s what he told himself.

He told himself it was your indifference that got under his skin. The way you never rose to his bait. The way you’d just glance at him when he said something snarky, not angry, not hurt, just unimpressed, and carry on with whatever you were doing.

But then he started noticing things. Stupid things.

Like the way you twirled your quill when you were thinking. The way you always remembered to feed the owls that hung around the windowsill in the common room, even when no one else did. The way you tucked your sleeve over your hand when the castle got too cold.

And how his eyes always seemed to find you, even when he didn’t mean them to.

He hated that.

He hated it because it made no sense. You didn’t flirt with him. You didn’t want anything from him. And yet, somehow, you were in his head more than anyone else. Worse than James. Worse than bloody Remus’s reading habits. You’d made a home in his brain without even trying.

So the next time you looked at him, he panicked.

“Nice ink smudge,” he said, nodding to the side of your hand. “Very chic.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

“Just saying,” he added, shrugging, eyes already darting away. “Didn’t realise messiness was a new trend.”

You looked down at your hand, wiped the smudge away with a frown, and muttered something under your breath as you walked off.

Sirius sat there, watching you go, heart hammering, and thought:

What the hell is wrong with me?

Sirius sat there for a long moment after you left, dragging a hand down his face.

Nice ink smudge. Very chic. What in Merlin’s name was wrong with him?

He’d meant to say something normal. Maybe even a little bit nice. Something like, “You look focused,” or “That essay killing you too?” But no, his brain had taken a perfectly good opportunity to be decent and twisted it into another bloody insult.

He didn’t mean to do it. Honestly, he didn’t. But every time you looked at him, really looked at him, something prickled under his skin. Like you saw more than you were meant to. Like you knew he wasn’t half as clever or charming or effortless as he pretended to be.

And it scared the shit out of him.

So he did what he always did: he deflected. He pushed. He said something biting before you could say something true.

He was starting to realise that maybe he didn’t hate you at all.

In fact, he might’ve liked you a little too much.

And that — that was a problem. Because Sirius Black didn’t do feelings. He flirted, he joked, he snogged girls he’d forget the names of by next week. He didn’t lie awake thinking about the way someone bit the inside of their cheek when they were concentrating. He didn’t notice things like that.

He didn’t get quiet around people he fancied.

Except he did. With you.

And worse, you thought he hated you. And he couldnt blame you for it. 

🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖

It started with Remus noticing. Of course it did.

“You’ve gone quiet,” he said one evening in the common room, barely looking up from his book. “Quieter than usual. Brooding.”

“I do not brood,” Sirius snapped, too quickly.

“Mate,” James chimed in, peering over the back of the sofa with a wicked grin, “you’ve been staring into the fire like it murdered your dog. What’s going on? Did you get hexed in the library again? Did Snivellus say something about your hair?”

“Shove off.”

James didn’t shove off.

Instead, he climbed over the sofa, dropped dramatically into the seat beside Sirius, and started poking him in the side like a child. “Tell us. Tell us. Tell us.”

“I’m going to hex you.”

“I’ll take it. Just tell us what’s up.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “It’s about her, isn’t it?”

Sirius froze.

James blinked. “Wait—her?”

“Oh my God,” James said, the moment he saw Sirius’s ears go red. “You’ve got a thing for her. Her? The girl you insult every time she breathes near you? That her?”

Sirius shoved a pillow in James’s face. “Yes, alright? Bloody hell.”

James pulled the pillow off, grinning like it was Christmas. “I knew it.”

“You did not.”

“Well I do now.”

Remus shut his book, expression unreadable. “Does she know?”

Sirius scoffed. “Course not. Why would she? I’m a complete arse to her.”

James looked positively gleeful. “Yeah, you are. You’re awful to her, mate. Like, comically bad.”

Sirius groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “I don’t mean to be. It just—she looks at me and I panic. I say something I think sounds clever and it always comes out wrong. And now she probably thinks I hate her, which is great, because I actually fancy her so much it’s pathetic.”

He didn’t notice the shuffle of feet near the bottom of the staircase. Didn’t hear the soft intake of breath behind the tapestry wall.

But you did.

You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Truly. You were just coming down from your dormitory to grab the book you’d left on the armchair earlier. But then you heard your name, or not your name, exactly, but her — and Sirius’s voice saying things you’d never imagined.

“I actually fancy her so much it’s pathetic.”

You stood frozen behind the corner, heart beating far too fast, his words playing on repeat in your head.

This boy, who never seemed to have a kind thing to say, who made you feel like you were always in the way liked you?

You didn’t know what to feel. Shock, mostly. And confusion. And, underneath it all… something warm. Something that felt stupidly like hope.

Because the truth was, no matter how much his words had stung over the past few weeks, a part of you had always wanted him to look at you and see you. Not as someone to mock. But as someone worth knowing.

And now?

Maybe he did.

🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖

Sirius had been avoiding you all morning.

Which, frankly, you found amusing. For weeks, he’d been sniping at you in corridors and making passive-aggressive remarks over your shoulder in class. And now? Not even a glance. Not a word.

You couldn’t decide if he was embarrassed or if he thought ignoring you would somehow make the whole thing less awkward.

It didn’t.

But it did give you time to think. Too much time.

And now here you were, standing in the doorway of the Astronomy Tower, book in hand, having very much not coincidentally run into him while he was having a cigarette in the cold morning light.

He froze when he saw you. His shoulders tensed like he was preparing for impact.

“Don’t worry,” you said, stepping forward, voice calm. “I’m not here to ask for fashion advice.”

He blinked. “What?”

You smirked. “Ink smudges. Very chic, remember?”

He groaned, turning away with a hand dragged through his hair. “Look, I… I was being a dick.”

You tilted your head. “Was?”

He shot you a look, but it was more sheepish than sharp. “Alright. Am. But I’m trying not to be.”

There was a pause.

You walked over, stopping beside him and leaning on the railing, watching the clouds roll past below. “It’s funny. I always thought you hated me.”

He swallowed. “I don’t.”

“I know.”

That made him look at you.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. “The walls in Gryffindor Tower aren’t as thick as you lot seem to think. Especially near the stairs.”

The colour drained from his face. “Oh, fuck.”

“Mhm.”

“I—wait, you heard all of it?”

You nodded, letting him sweat in silence for a second longer than necessary before you said, voice soft now, “I wasn’t going to say anything. But since you’re trying not to be a dick…”

He stared at you, stunned silent.

You shrugged. “I like you too. That’s why it hurt.”

Something broke across his face. Guilt, relief, maybe something bordering on hope.

“I really am sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I just... I get weird. And stupid. And say things I don’t mean.”

“Clearly.”

He huffed a laugh. “Could we maybe... start over?”

You looked at him then, properly looked at him, and nodded. “Yeah. But if you insult my handwriting again, I will hex you.”

Sirius grinned. “Fair enough.”

🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖

Sirius wasn’t sure if it was a date.

He was ninety percent sure it wasn’t. You hadn’t called it that. You hadn’t even really asked him to come. You’d just said, casual as anything, “If you’re not doing anything, I’m heading to the Hog’s Head. Could use the company.”

And of course, he’d said yes.

Now you were sitting across from each other at a rickety table in the dim, smoky corner of the pub, your knees just barely brushing beneath the table. He was trying very hard not to notice, or to look at your mouth too long when you sipped your butterbeer, or to say something sarcastic and ruin it all over again.

You were quiet. Not cold, just thoughtful, eyes drifting around the room before returning to him every so often. There was no tension, not really. But there was something new there. Something that felt delicate. Untouched.

“So,” you said eventually, swirling the dregs of your drink, “have you been practising not being a dick, or is this your first day?”

Sirius laughed, shoulders easing for the first time all morning. “This is day one. Bit nervous, actually. Am I doing alright?”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “You haven’t insulted me yet. So I’d say you’re off to a promising start.”

“I can slip one in, if that’d make you more comfortable.”

You shot him a look over the rim of your glass. “Don’t push your luck.”

A beat of silence passed, then another. He could feel the words sitting on his tongue, waiting.

“Y’know,” he said, a little quieter now, “I meant what I said. That night.”

You didn’t look surprised. Just met his gaze like you’d been waiting for him to bring it up.

“I know,” you said. “I meant what I said too.”

He nodded and swallowed. “And you’re really giving me a chance.”

“Don’t sound so shocked.”

“I’m just not used to people forgiving me. Let alone liking me after I’ve been a complete arse.”

You looked at him then, properly, and this time, you smiled. Not amused or pitying, something softer. Something that made his heart stutter.

“You’re not that hard to like,” you said.

Maybe it was the warmth of the butterbeer, or the strange quiet of the pub, or the way the sunlight caught in your lashes, but Sirius leaned forward a little, elbows on the table, watching you like he hadn’t quite earned the right yet.

“I’ll still mess up,” he said honestly. “Probably soon. Probably in the next ten minutes.”

You laughed. “Then you can apologise. Like a normal person.”

“I’m not great at normal.”

“You’re not terrible at it either.”

He grinned. “You really think so?”

You leaned in too now, just a bit. “Don’t ruin it.”

And he didn’t. For once, he didn’t say something to break the moment. He just looked at you, the noise of the pub fading into the background, and let himself enjoy the feeling that, maybe, he hadn’t completely ruined everything after all.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･masterlist + sirius masterlist

anyways... sorry if it was bad, I lowkey rushed this..! andddddddd, im back... finally, after four months, ill try not to abandon you guys anymore..

[vrtualchg]

SNAKES CAN FALL TOO

he hated her. hated the way she smirked when he was flustered, the way she never looked afraid, not even when she should’ve been. like when she lied to umbridge for him. like when she touched him like she meant it. she was a malfoy—draco’s sister, slytherin royalty—and yet she kissed like she had nothing to lose. and maybe that’s what ruined him. because harry didn’t just hate her. he wanted her. wanted to taste the defiance on her tongue, to feel her break apart in his hands. he didn’t know when the line between enemies and something else had blurred. only that now, he couldn’t stop crossing it.

pairing: Harry Potter x Slytherin!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, slow burn, Hogwarts era

tw: MDNI 18+, sexual content, fingering, virginity loss (f), emotionally repressed characters, rivals with tension, forbidden romance, bathroom hookup, soft!dom!Harry, mutual yearning, suggestive internal monologue, aftercare

It might as well have been etched into the very stones of Hogwarts: Gryffindors and Slytherins did not mix.

Not as friends. And certainly not as lovers.

For centuries, the tension had simmered just beneath the surface—an unspoken curse passed down through bloodlines and house crests, stoked by ancient grudges and the weight of family names. Most students wore that animosity like a second skin. Hatred was tradition. Expected. Required.

Y/N Malfoy was no exception.

From the moment she stepped off the Hogwarts Express in her first year, her name had preceded her like a dark cloud. Malfoy. Sister to Draco. A Slytherin through and through—by blood, by badge, by birthright. The lines had been drawn long before she ever exchanged words with Harry Potter.

But the disdain? That had come quickly—and naturally.

Their feud had bloomed like wildfire.

Snide remarks in the corridors.

Icy glares across the Great Hall.

Explosive outbursts in Defense Against the Dark Arts that landed them both in detention more times than she could count.

It should have stayed that way. It was safer that way. But everything changed last year.

It had started with something small—something easily overlooked. Another confrontation with Umbridge. Harry had mouthed off again (he always did), and the detentions were escalating—vicious and fast. But the one that might have gotten him expelled? That night, Y/N had intervened.

Just once. Just enough.

A single, well-placed lie. A calm voice. Doubt, cast like a spell. And suddenly, Umbridge paused. She still punished him—but not enough to break him.

Harry hadn’t forgotten.

Neither had she.

They never talked about it. But after that, something shifted. The silences between them were no longer loaded with contempt—they crackled with something else. Possibility. Curiosity. Tension so thick it felt like a tether, pulling taut every time their eyes met.

Not love. Not yet.

But it was something.

Something dangerous. Something undeniable.

Now, as the new term began, that “something” found them again—fierce and sudden.

On the train ride back to Hogwarts, it was Draco—bitter and boiling—who couldn’t let go of old grudges. Words flew. Wands flicked. But it was a single misstep—Draco’s boot, too high and too hard—that shattered Harry’s nose.

Y/N hadn’t said a word.

Not in her brother’s defense.

Not anymore.

And that’s how they ended up here—alone, in the abandoned girls’ bathroom on the first floor. The one ghosts whispered about. The one students avoided.

Harry leaned back against the sink, shirt rumpled, blood drying in angry smears across his face. Y/N stood before him, dabbing at his skin with a damp handkerchief, careful. Gentle.

“Sorry,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t meet his eyes.

The word tasted foreign on her tongue.

She wasn’t used to saying it. Not to him.

Harry didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

He just watched her—like he was studying her, committing every detail to memory. His eyes were dark and unreadable behind cracked lenses.

“For the nose?” he asked.

Her lips parted. “For everything.”

Silence fell, heavy and electric.

Then his hand moved—slow and sure—settling low on her back. Not possessive. Just there. A quiet anchor. Her breath hitched.

“Hurry up, Y/N,” he murmured, voice rough from the earlier fight. But there was no urgency in it—only heat. A slow, burning hunger.

His hands tugged her closer, pulling her gently between his legs until her thighs brushed his. She didn’t move away. Couldn’t. His gaze dropped to her lips, then lifted to her eyes again.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered.

“No,” she breathed. For the first time, she met his gaze fully. “Not anymore.”

The castle outside faded into background hum—the muffled buzz of distant feasting, the shuffle of students in the common rooms. But in here, in the dim, echoing silence of forgotten stone, there was only this.

Only them.

“Tell me to stop,” he said again, lips brushing hers now. “Tell me.”

She didn’t.

Instead, she kissed him like it was a confession.

The kiss deepened, fast and consuming. Heat unfurled in her belly as his hands wandered under her jumper—no longer tentative, but reverent. This time, he pushed it up and over her head. Her blouse followed, each button undone with aching slowness. He kissed her skin with every inch revealed, mouth trailing down her neck like worship.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered when she stood before him in just her bra—his voice rough with awe.

Her cheeks flushed, but she held his gaze. “You’re not so bad yourself, Potter.”

He smirked—cheeky, a flash of the boy he used to be—but it softened just as quickly.

His hands settled at her waist. “Are you sure?”

“I want this,” she said. Steady. Certain. “I want you.”

That was all it took.

He kissed her again, deeper now, as he lifted her onto the sink. The porcelain was cold against the backs of her thighs, but it only made the heat of his touch feel hotter—more necessary. His hands slid up her thighs, beneath her skirt, fingers grazing over the thin fabric of her panties.

She gasped into his mouth.

“You’re already this wet for me?” he murmured against her ear. “Fuck, Y/N…”

She arched into him, hips chasing his touch. When his fingers moved again—slow, precise circles over soaked cotton—she whimpered, clinging to his shoulders.

“Harry, please—”

He didn’t make her beg.

Her panties were slipped aside, and then he was there—bare skin on bare skin. Gentle strokes that grew more insistent, until she was gasping with every pass of his fingers. One slipped inside her, then another, and her whole body clenched.

“Shh,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. “Let me.”

She gripped his shoulders, trembling as he worked her open—careful, focused, unrelenting.

Every movement was meant to unravel her.

“Look at me,” he murmured.

She did. Just as the wave hit.

Her mouth fell open in a silent cry, body arching against him, pleasure wracking her to the bone. He never looked away. He whispered her name like it meant something holy.

When the tremors faded, when she caught her breath, he kissed her again—soft, grounding, steady.

“I need you,” he whispered against her lips. “But only if you want me to.”

She nodded, eyes burning. “Yes. I want all of you, Harry.”

Robes and shirts and belts came off in a fevered blur. He lined himself up slowly, carefully, pausing just before—

“This might hurt,” he said, voice low. “Tell me if you need me to stop.”

She nodded, one hand tangled in his hair, the other pressed flat against his chest—his heartbeat thrumming wild beneath her palm.

He pushed in inch by inch, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. She gasped, body tense, but he stilled, anchoring her with kisses, with whispered praise.

“You’re doing so good.”

When she shifted—hips tilting, seeking more—he began to move.

Slow. Deep.

Every thrust was full of restraint and reverence, like he was trying to memorize how it felt to be inside her.

“Fuck, you feel like heaven,” he groaned, dropping his head to her shoulder.

She held him tighter.

Their rhythm built slowly—gasps shared in the dark, skin meeting skin. Her thighs wrapped around him, anchoring him there. His hand reached between them, fingers finding her clit again, and when she broke apart for the second time—crying out against his neck—he followed with a low, broken moan, spilling into her like a man come undone.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

No Gryffindor. No Slytherin.

No war. No names.

Just them.

Breathing. Holding. Becoming.

When he finally pulled back, he kissed her again—softer now. Slower.

“You alright?” he asked, brushing sweat-damp hair from her face.

She smiled, utterly wrecked. “More than alright.”

A beat passed. Then, grinning:

“Can we go again?”

[slvqtore]

⟢ pairing. ron weasley x fem! reader. ⟢ summary. ron’s failed attempt at confessing his feelings for you. ⟢ wc: 1,9k

the moment he laid his eyes on you, he knew it was love at first sight—or so he told everyone. the two of you met at the hogwarts express along with harry and hermione, and from that moment on, the four of you had been inseparable. you were merely his ‘tiny’ crush back when you two were just children, but as time passed by, his feelings only grew stronger. harry and hermione wasn’t that slow to catch on, since ron made it very obvious he liked you, but even so, you were too oblivious to see it.

“ron, you’ve liked her for god knows how long now, just confess already.” hermione sighed in frustration, crossing her arms before she gave harry a look, tilting her head slightly towards ron. “y—yeah ron, you should totally tell her how you feel.” harry urged, nodding his head. “i don’t know, i mean you’ve seen the way she looks at cedric!” he blurted, voice climbing in pitch as his expression turned into a horrified one, recalling how you smiled sweetly towards cedric the other day.

“for goodness’ sake ron, just do it!” she huffed, her eyes flashing with impatience. “and fine, we’ll help you.” her voice was lower this time, softer. “we are?” harry questioned, head snapping towards hermione who playfully smacked harry in the arm. “ow! that hurt.” a small smile played on her lips, as he rubbed his arm, trying to ease the pain hermione had done. “well i suppose the two of you have ideas? i got none,” ron’s gaze flickered back and fourth between harry and hermione, who only stayed silent, clearly not having ideas either. “great, none of us has any ideas.” he sighed in defeat.

“wait!” hermione spoke abruptly, earning the attention of the two as they turned their heads toward hermione in sync. “ i have an idea.”

── .✦

the sound of the bell ringing echoed through the corridors, indicating that it was time for lunch. you and hermione strolled down the castle corridors with books clutched to your chests, having finished herbology class with professor sprout. “i mean, can you believe it? krum just asked me to the yule ball! how exciting is that?” you gushed, eyes wide as you hugged your books closer to your chest, hardly able to contain your grin. hermione’s brows shot up upon hearing this, a flicker of panic flashing across her face before quickly masking it. “that’s amazing!” she cheered, forcing a smile. you weren’t that stupid to notice that she wasn’t quite happy about it, but you brushed it off. hermione is smart and good at all sorts of things, but the one thing she wasn’t good at was acting.

before you knew it, the two of you had arrived at the great hall. the scent of roasted chicken and freshly baked bread drifted through the air as students milled about, some already seated at their house tables, others still trickling in from morning classes. you smiled upon seeing harry and ron who was sitting next to each other. “hi,” you greeted the both of them, sitting across them before hermione followed, sitting down beside you. ron’s gaze lingered on you, before you quickly caught him. “uh, hey.” ron waved awkwardly toward you, biting the inside of his cheeks from nervousness. “hi ron,” you returned the gesture, giving him a soft smile—the smile that never failed to melt ron’s little heart. he pressed his lips together in order to stop himself from smiling, his stomach doing little flips.

“so,” hermione cleared her throat, eyeing harry and ron across the table. “me and harry, we were assigned to make a potion and uh..” she gave a quick glance your way. “but, we’re missing a few key ingredients. they’re kept in the potions storeroom by the dungeons,” she paused, hesitating for a moment, her eyes searched for ron’s and harry, in which harry nodded slightly, giving her the go. “would you and ron mind going to fetch them for us? It’d save us loads of time.” she smiled innocently, hiding her worried expression. “i mean sure, why not?” the second that sentence came out of your mouth, the three of them breathed out a sigh of relief they didn’t even know they were holding.

“great! is after lunch good?” harry asked, bringing a piece of roasted chicken towards his mouth. “yeah, of course. ron?” you quickly looked his way, a small expectant smile tugging at your lips. ron, who had been suspiciously quiet ever since your arrival, nearly choked on his pumpkin juice. he quickly regained his composure, stiffening his posture in order to act cool. “y—yeah, after lunch sounds cool.” you could hear hermione and harry holding back a laugh, and you couldn’t help but chuckle too. his ears quickly turned pink from embarrassment. “shut up.”

lunch went by what felt like seconds, one minute you were laughing at how harry and ron had a burping contest to see who could burp the loudest, and now you were heading towards the dungeons with ron by your side. the air was filled with awkward silence, as ron tried his best to think of a conversation—anything to say. he had forgotten all of the conversation topic ideas hermione and harry had given him yesterday, and that lead him to mentally curse himself. you could feel how tensed up ron was, and it made you worry. every so often, you glanced sideways at ron, silently checking up on him, wondering why he looked so stiff, shoulders tense, lips pressed into a thin line. unbeknownst to you, harry and hermione were following the two of you, hiding in the corners of the castle corridors.

“ron, are you okay?” you stopped mid-track, finally breaking the air of silence, as you turned to him. “um, yeah i’m a hundred percent alright, why do you ask?” you raised your eyebrow in return. although he dismissed it, his body language couldn’t lie. “i don’t know, you just seemed nervous is all. i just thought—” your sentence was briefly cut once you heard a faint sound footsteps. you turned your head toward the direction of the sound only to be greeted by an empty hallway. “is it just me or do i have a feeling that someone else is in here and not just us?” you playfully asked him, a hint of worry lacing in your voice nonetheless as a flicker of panic flashed across his face.

“oh, um, it’s probably just.. rats?” he blurted whatever came out of his mouth, shrugging it off. you snorted. “rats? seriously?” it was then you let out a small but genuine laugh. he blinked, shoulders sagging just a little as if he’d been holding his breath without realizing it. the corners of his mouth twitched into a crooked grin. “well, I mean… it is the dungeons,” he said, a bit more relaxed now, his voice less strangled than before. “wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a whole rat army down here.” you laughed again, shaking your head. “you’re ridiculous.” his eyes never left yours, quietly admiring the way you’d laugh, there was just something about it that made his knees weak. if there was one thing in the world he loved, it would be your laugh.

yes, his eyes never left yours, until a flicker of movement behind you caught his attention. he looked over your shoulder, spotting two familiar figures, half-hidden in the corner of the corridors, who’s none other than harry and hermione themselves. hermione was furiously mouthing now! while gesturing wildly with her hands, meanwhile harry gave ron two big thumbs up, grinning like an idiot. it was the perfect timing, just like three of you had planned. his eyes darted between them and you in pure panic, he was clearly not ready.

you frowned slightly, catching the strange look on his face. “ron? what is it?” you asked, starting to glance behind you. “n—nothing! whoo, it’s getting bloody hot in here is it?” he rambled, letting out an awkward laugh. you furrowed your eyebrows, clearly not buying the act. “okay.. um, we should probably get back to getting the ingredients?” you turned your heel, but before you could walk past him, he caught your wrist, halting your movements.

he quickly pulled his hands, realizing that he just touched you without consent. you turned to him, stepping back a little bit so he’d face you. “i, um..” he paused, the words he so wanted to say was caught in his throat. your head tilted, trying to make out whatever he wanted to say. “i, um, have something to tell you, but d—don’t freak out,” you nodded, listening intently.

“thing is, i li—”

“ron, there’s a spider in your shoulder!” you gasped, pointing your index finger toward his shoulder. he froze. “w—what?” he croaked, his face turning pale. in his shoulder, crawled a big spider, big enough to nearly cover his entire shoulder, its long legs twitching as it explored the fabric of his robes.

“GET IT OFF!” he yelped, completely forgetting any shred of cool he might’ve had. In a wild panic, he jumped backward, flailing his arms and trying to shake it off without actually touching it. behind you, harry and hermione watched the scene unfold. hermione mouthed an ‘oh no’ while harry was trying his best not to laugh. “hold still!” you said, trying to help, though he wasn’t hearing a word. “DON’T TELL ME TO HOLD STILL, IT’S ON ME, IT’S ON ME!” he howled, twisting in circles. finally, the spider tumbled off, skittering across the stone floor. he scrambled back, chest heaving, face red and eyes wide with sheer terror.

you couldn’t help but laugh, covering your mouth with your hand. “ron, it’s gone! you’re fine!” he scowled half-heartedly. “not funny.” he muttered, though the pink in his ears told a different story. “is everything okay? i heard someone screaming!” a voice suddenly spoke up. you turned around to see neville who’s slightly out of breath and clutching his wand like he’d been ready to duel a troll. you giggled, “hi neville. and yes, everything’s fine! just a spider problem.” neville blinked. “oh,” he said, visibly relaxing. “well—glad you’re alright. i thought maybe something worse had happened.” he gave ron a sympathetic look. “big one?”

“size of my hand,” ron muttered darkly, still eyeing the floor suspiciously, as if the spider might come back for revenge. “oh, right! professor mcgonagall wanted to see you at her office.” neville added suddenly, glancing at you. “me?” you asked, pointing to yourself as he nodded. you turned to ron. “will you be alright here?”

“yeah, i’ll be alright.”

“okay then, see you later!” you smiled, giving him a small wave before you walked away, glancing one last time before you disappeared into the castle corridors. as soon as you were out of earshot, he groaned loudly, running both hands through his hair. just from the corner, emerged harry and hermione both sharing an awkward-apologetic look. “well, that didn’t go as planned.�� hermione said, trying to lighten up the mood. “you think?”

[purplekissinger]

the lighthouse on the phoenix road

1960s. Tom returns to England. If there’s anything left for him in this world, it’s the light in the window of the house on Phoenix Road, where Y/N waits for him.

Thus she kept her lamp trimmed and burning to receive the bridegroom when he should come. - O. Henry. The Trimmed Lamp

Tom arrives after midnight.

The dead hour on the wet autumn streets. No one sees Tom turn away from the station, walk slowly along Phoenix Road, stop at a house  hidden equally from the eyes of both wizards and Muggles. He looks up appraisingly, searching for the right window. He climbs the dark stairs unseen, but hesitates a little on the landing. His thoughts are a mystery.

He opens the door with a barely noticeable flick of his wand.

Light from the lamp in the room spills into the narrow hallway. Everything here remains just as he left it: the bulky chest of drawers with a tarnished mirror, the porcelain cat with a broken ear on the shelf, a stack of bills and letters, a tartan umbrella, a Muggle calendar for 1960. The girl printed on it grins at him with a dead, faded smile. Tom surveys it all impassively before glancing down at his feet. He needs to count the shoes. Are there any extra? There are no extra shoes, however, only Y/N’s, scattered carelessly, too light even for early autumn. Tom frowns. He steps over them and enters the room.

Y/N waits for him there, fast asleep.

A dim lamp burns on the bedside table, casting a yellow circle on the ceiling. Y/N's face is turned toward the wall, her hand limp atop the blanket. There is so much fragility and serenity in this whole scene that Tom freezes for a few minutes, standing over your bed quietly, like a murderer. He will never admit neither to you nor to himself what seizes him in that moment.

Carefully, Tom sits beside you. His fingers brush yours.

"Y/N," he says quietly.

Y/N shudders in her sleep, but does not wake. He lightly squeezes your hand,  gently at first, then almost painfully.

“Just five more minutes”, Y/N whispers indistinctly.

“No more minutes”, Tom says seriously, not taking his unblinking gaze off her. “Your time is up”.

Y/N fidgets under the blanket like a kitten, but does not wake.

“You didn't miss me at all?” Tom asked, smiling at the corner of his mouth. He knows the answer.

“I dream about you all the time”, Y/N sniffles. “Just like now”.

“It's not a dream, Y/N”.

“Mm-hm”.

A train rattles in the distance. The lamp crackles quietly. Tom is in no hurry. He does not let go of your hand, gently stroking it. His gaze sweeps the room, and under its weight the walls seem to shrink. Sitting here, on this carefree polka-dotted blanket in his black Muggle coat Tom looks alien and grotesquely out of place, like a bat in a doll's house.

"You ought to change into boots," he says at last. "It's turning cold. The last thing we need is you  catching a chill".

Y/N is silent. Hazy images float through her foggy sleepy head. Tom reads them effortlessly, nodding along absentmindedly. Deep in thought, he looks at the light dress thrown over the back of the chair. The fabric is worn thin.

“I’ll buy new ones, don’t you worry. And then I’ll have a talk with Malfoy about your allowance. It seems he has been careless with his duties. No doubt he had a good reason for that,” he says in a strange voice. This voice worries Y/N, and she shudders again.

“I wouldn’t dream of such things,” she mutters. “Shoes, money, Malfoy... Are you really back?”

“Open your eyes and see for yourself.”

“I’m scared.”

“Am I that scary?”

“I’m afraid I’m sleeping again and you’re just another dream.”

“What do I usually do in your dreams?”

Y/N yawns silently, sits up in bed and starts rubbing her eyes.

“Well... You enter... Just like now... And I put the kettle on. It's usually mornings, I think. I wake up to the whistle and cry all day. Or I dream I'm walking down the street and see you in the crowd... But that happens in real life too, I stare and stare, and it's never you. And sometimes… Sometimes I dream that you come, and the lamp is off, and you just stand there in the dark”.

“Then maybe you should put the kettle on? Well, just to make sure”.

Y/N finally looks at him. The lamp blinds her, all she sees is a black silhouette in front of her. She is silent for several long seconds. Then she inhales sharply, her hands fly to her cheeks, she clutches her hair, she’s shaking, she tries to either jump up or cover her head with the blanket. She almost screams, but her voice has abandoned her. Her face is distorted with ancient undiluted horror.

“Tom?! Tom?! Tom, is that you?! Is that you, is that really you, Merlin, is it really you, is it really you–oh my God–oh Merlin–is that really you?!” the words spiral hysterically for a full minute, maybe longer.

“Quiet”, Tom laughs. “You'll wake the dead”.

Then she is in his arms. He  strokes her hair slowly, possessively. He holds her softly but firmly –the way one might press a chloroform-soaked cloth to the victim's mouth– and under his touch Y/N indeed becomes quiet.

“Better?” he asks tenderly.

Y/N nods silently. She is unable to speak. They stay frozen like that, and Tom wonders when was the last time he had a moment like this? To be in her cozy bedroom, to hold the most precious thing he has?

“But is it really you?” Y/N says timidly.

Tom thinks that her question has some merit.

“That depends... What exactly do you mean?”

“Are you the Tom I met the first year?”

“That boy? He's the one I have nothing in common with”, he says mockingly, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “He vanished in my second year. "Only snakes can shed their skin so their souls can age and grow..." You're asking the wrong questions, my dear”.

The Hogwarts Tom Y/N once knew would also toss around some cryptic quotes. She forgot about that habit. The first wary smile touches her lips, but then she frowns again.

“Say something... Something so that I can recognize you”, she asks.

Tom sighs. He, however, is rather pleased that his treasure has learned caution.

"Myrtle Warren was offed by the basilisk?"

"No good," Y/N shakes her head guiltily. "Five other people know that."

"Five pretty loyal people plus one basilisk, but you're right about that," he agrees. "If five know, twenty-five suspect. And their loyalty may require reassessment..."

"Tell me something that only Tom knows," Y/N asks even more quietly.

Tom is silent for a bit longer, stroking her head.

"I killed my father," he finally says in an even voice. "Will that do?"

She nods again, pursing her lips. He looks at her intently, and it is not a nice look.

"I think, my dear, you do not quite believe me," he remarks. "You think that I might have told Lestrange, and that he in turn might have told someone else. Is that right?"

"I’m sorry."

"Don't be. I’d be disappointed if you’d grown careless in my absence. Let’s try again. Do you see that lamp on the table?"

"Yes, Tom".

She knows at this very moment what he is going to say, that’s why she can call him that now.

"I lit it myself on the sixteenth of October, nineteen-sixty. It was the day of my departure, or rather the night. I forbade you to come with me to King's Cross, but you were so eager to go with me… We quarreled and you threw that porcelain cat against the wall and then burst into tears. I came back into the room, lit the lamp with my wand and told you that it would go out the instant you ceased waiting for me. Did I?”

“Yes, Tom”.

“I also said that it must not go out. That if I returned to find it extinguished, you would regret it. I did not say how exactly you would regret it, but I can see in your eyes that you remember this too. Am I right?”

“Yes, Tom”.

“As ever”, he smiles, but the smile does not reach his eyes, does not warm them. “Good. I’m glad you kept it burning”.

Y/N is silent. A couple of years ago, when he’d still been Flamel’s apprentice, he needed to catch a golden-tailed butterfly for a potion. Those die as soon as you touch them, and now, looking at how quiet Y/N has become, he remembered that moment: something once living and vibrant becomes a  fragile corpse on his palm.

“No, truly, this is good. I’ve no desire for theatrics when I barely removed my boots… Tea, then?”

Y/N makes a move to slip out of his grasp, apparently to go to the kitchen, but Tom suddenly stops her. Tomorrow he will officially rise from the dead; tomorrow, he will summon his old friends and judge who waited and who did not; tomorrow he will bury himself in work, because he failed in art and therefore must take up politics. But all that is tomorrow.

“Wait”.

He pulls back and looks at her intently, greedily. He will never admit that he too has seen this moment in his dreams, that her ghost has haunted him wherever he went, trailing him through Albanian forests and Parisian gutters, that with each new Horcrux she grows more and more precious to him. What else is left to cherish, when all that remains inside him is a hungry gaping void? Now that Y/N is in his arms, he knows with cold clarity that it was hunger that drove him back to England. Back to the lighthouse, to the place that could still be called home,if such a word still holds a meaning. Quickly, before it was too late, before the lamp died out and the world plunged into the darkness.

Y/N stares back into those hollow yet attentive eyes. She knows she’ll never recognize who has returned to her, and no password can turn this creature into her Tom again.

The painting: Marianne Stokes, 'Death and the Maiden'

The poem: Nikolay Gumilev, 'Memory' (the most Tom coded poem ever written)

[uramakimochi]

Y/N, smothering teen Harry and covering his face in kisses: My sweet darling boy i love you so much, you know that?

Harry, flustered: M-Mum...

Y/N: You are so soo beautiful. But you know what the bad thing is??

Harry: What...?

Y/N: That i carried you nine months, NINE, in my belly and you?? *takes his face in her hands* You DARE to be the exact copy of your father!?

James, looking at them offended: Is it really supposed to be a bad thing???

Y/N: *tightly hugs Harry* You're perfect~

- BONUS IF Y/N HAS BROWN EYES LIKE JAMES -

Y/N, crying: He doesn't even have my eyes! That's so unfair! It's just a James 2.0!!

Harry: I'm sorry mum...

Y/N: It's not your fault sweetheart. It's your stupid but handsome father's...

James: I don't understand my love, was that a compliment or an insult??

If James Potter has no haters it means his wife is dead.

MILFPOTTER!READER SERIE:

previous / next

[lqveharrington]

Cornelia Street | D.M.

summary: Draco takes a trip down memory lane for his birthday.

pairing: ex!draco malfoy x ex!fem!reader

includes: angst with a fluff ending

wc: 2k+

a/n: this was supposed to be posted on his birthday, lol

Today was June 5th, Draco’s birthday. Every year on his birthday, you would take him on a trip to different parts of the United Kingdom. And on these trips, you ensured that he was the one being treated to anything and everything instead of him paying for you like he usually did. You made sure you included all of his favorite treats and activities so he could have the best time on his birthday. Draco’s favorite year was when you took him on a trip to London near Caledonian Park.

That year, you took him on a picnic at the park for lunch. You also had reservations for a nice restaurant nearby, and shopping at independently owned stores in between. Draco had loved the area so much that he bought a cozy apartment for both of you on Cornelia Street, only two blocks away from the park. Luckily for him, you loved the place just as much as he did.

But that was years ago, when you were both young and carefree.

This year, Draco found himself alone on his birthday, still walking the familiar path at Caledonian Park. He swore he wouldn’t come back at all, having moved away a couple of years ago, but something pulled him to the area. His mind kept going back to the year you brought him here, yet it wasn’t ever the same, not without you.

The weather wasn’t ideal either. It was drizzling, gray clouds filled the normally blue sky, and mud covered the dirt paths—it barely felt like his birthday.

Nevertheless, Draco continued to walk the path, slowing his steps when he found himself standing in front of the tree where you set up the picnic years ago.

He remembers you covering his eyes as you led him over to the plaid blanket, your laughter ringing through the air every time he poked your side in anticipation. He remembers peppering your face in kisses when he saw what you set up for him, your cheeks flaming red at the amount of public affection he was showing. He remembers the cut up fruit and sandwiches you made for him, each piece of food tasting heavenly. Draco could have eaten rat poison that you prepared, and still believe it tasted amazing; he just loved you that much.

Now, under the rain, Draco only saw what once was, his heart beating hard against his chest at old memories.

“Dammit.” He muttered and turned to leave the park, his footsteps heavy against the ground.

Draco didn’t think it would affect him all these years later, but it hurt like hell just thinking about it. Maybe it was only worse because this was his first visit back since the breakup, or maybe it was because everything here was just a reminder of what once was, but either way, he hated the feeling. He wasn’t even sure why he brought himself back. Merlin, he didn’t even know where his feet were dragging him now. It seemed like everything around him was blurry and surreal, like he wasn’t even living in reality, until he felt himself push a door open and heard a bell ring above him. He snapped out of his daze and looked around, blinking when he realized where he was.

The bookstore he found himself in looked relatively the same. The only thing that changed was the books that came in and out of the store daily. And even after years of not coming down to this place, the owner behind the counter smiled brightly at Draco as if no years had passed. To the lovely, old woman behind the counter, this was one of his regular visits.

“Good morning, Draco.” Mrs. Windsor adjusted her glasses, noticing his disheveled appearance and a worn smile. “Are you alright?”

He nodded and approached her, removing his leather gloves and tucking them into his coat’s pockets. “How are you, Mrs. Windsor?”

“Oh, doing as fine as an old woman can be.” She laughed and tilted her head at him, knuckles rapping against the wooden top as she suddenly remembered something. “Your darling came by this morning and said she was reminiscing.”

Draco furrowed his brows and met her gaze, his heart beating harder than it was earlier. “I’m sorry?”

Mrs. Windsor nodded and looked back to the book she was binding, “Yep, she came by to say hi before she left, saying she had to visit some other place nearby. I’m surprised you weren’t with her, but maybe it’s because it’s your birthday. She nearly seemed embarrassed when she said it was your birthday when I asked her the date to write on the board today.”

“Y/N was here this morning?” Draco asked softly, merely talking to himself as the old woman began to focus her attention back on her book.

He ran his fingers through his hair and looked out the fogged glass windows, biting his cheek to refrain from asking about you anymore, although he knew Mrs. Windsor wouldn’t say anything more. He was just confused as to why you came back. Sure, he came back as well, but the odds of both of you visiting your old life at the same time were nearly impossible. Perhaps Mrs. Windsor had mixed up today with another interaction within the past years, but maybe she didn’t. Either way, Draco was left in another daze before quickly regaining his consciousness.

Shaking his head, he bid goodbye to Mrs. Windsor and took the path two blocks down that led to the old apartment on Cornelia Street. Draco believed he was in the clear to visit the place since you were seen in the morning, and it was nearing 8 PM by the time he left the old bookstore. Yet, his hands flexed by his side, the closer he got to the apartment, with nerves shooting through his system like he was expecting you to be there, waiting for him.

But when he turned the corner, the street was empty save for him and the rows of different apartment entrances. Draco blew out a heavy breath, a forced chuckle leaving his lips at the idiotic thought he had. Of course, you wouldn’t be here. It wasn’t like you would still celebrate his birthday after all these years.

Draco sighed and put his hands in his pockets, staring up at the window that led into an apartment that was once filled with late-night laughter, broken umbrellas, and whispered dreams. He didn’t think he would ever leave this place as abruptly as he did back then, but he did. Looking back, it was a stupid misunderstanding that drove both of you apart. It was all euphoric before that night, and he wished he could go back and rewind that moment in time.

He poked the inside of his mouth with his tongue and looked down at his muddied shoes, head rising slowly when he heard soft footfalls coming from his right. His breath was trapped in his throat at the sight of you, your expression mirroring his when you recognized him.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and directed your gaze toward the apartment building instead, memories flooding back into your mind faster than your heart and mind could catch up.

After an agonizing moment of silence, you turned back to Draco, opening your mouth before closing it, unsure of what you were even going to say. Your nerves were running through your body, fingers fiddling with the umbrella you held over yourself.

The lamp lights surrounding the street flickered on, causing you to flinch in surprise and stumble over your Mary Janes. Draco put a hand out in reflex, his blue eyes that were glued onto the apartment window now focused on you and only you.

“Sorry.” You murmur and regain your balance, meeting his eyes. You pursed your lips and looked down at the cracked pavement, “You know, I told myself I’d never walk down this street again. Not after you left.”

Draco frowned and watched you dig your heel into the sidewalk, a nervous habit of yours you gained since you attended Hogwarts so many years ago. His voice came out soft, tilting his head to the right. “Then why are you here now?”

You bit your bottom lip before meeting his eyes again, “Because I had to know if the ghost of us still lived here… Or if you did.”

You shook your head and looked up at the sky through the clear umbrella, huffing at how much darker the sky was at night when it rained. “Do you remember all those times we would come out on the street and just dance in the rain? We did it so many times that our neighbors stopped worrying about us.”

Draco snorted, “And you got sick every single time.”

“Hey, I have a weak immune system.” You smile and look back at him. “Why did you come back?”

He hummed and shrugged, “Trip down memory lane, I guess.”

You nod and tug at the wristlet on the umbrella, “You—”

“I—”

You both stared at each other and laughed softly. You tilted your head at him, waiting for him to continue what he was going to say instead of speaking over him again.

Draco sighed and adjusted his gloves, “I don’t… I don’t live around here anymore. I live back in Wiltshire near my parents since they insisted I would take the manor soon.”

“I remember that.” You say quietly, listening to the pitter-patter of light rain.

Both of you stood in a more comfortable silence now, just admiring the old apartment like it was an old friend of yours. Even after all these years, the space still felt like a home to both of you. The old street lamps, the rain, and the overgrown plants growing over the building all felt like a loved memory. The only difference was that it belonged to another loving couple, one that would hopefully have a different life than what you and Draco had before.

Draco looked down at his watch, making you do the same in return. “I have to go.”

“Same.” You smiled weakly, the emotion in your eyes reflecting something different. “Well… It was nice to catch up with you, Dray.”

His heart thumped hard at the name. “It was nice catching up with you, too, Y/N.”

You nodded and turned to leave before giving him a genuine smile, “Happy birthday.”

He swallowed thickly and nodded back at you, “Thank you.”

Draco watched you walk down the street, almost like he was watching everything in slow motion. He knew you were going to apparate the second you turned down the alley on the left, that’s where the two of you would apparate to in case of emergencies. Before he could even register what he was doing, Draco raced down the sidewalk and called out your name, barely giving you any time to process anything when he pressed his lips to yours.

You stood there, shocked for a millisecond before melting into the kiss, letting your umbrella drop by your side.

He parted from you slowly, resting his forehead on yours. “I’m sorry.”

“For kissing me without warning or everything else?” You murmur in amusement, earning another unwarranted kiss.

“Everything.” He said when he pulled away from you the second time. “Come home to me. Please.”

“I thought you were busy?” You ask softly when he lets go of your face and bends to pick up your umbrella, tucking it under his arm.

“Okay, well, I lied because I didn’t want to seem pathetic, darling.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, your nickname falling from his lips effortlessly. “Besides, you said you were busy too.”

“I guess we’re both liars.” You shrug, grinning at him when he rolls his eyes in amusement. “Oh, come on, I didn’t want to seem pathetic either.”

“To me? Never.” He pulled you into his arms, kissing the top of your head. “I’m forever sorry, Y/N. I never meant to hurt you.”

You buried your head into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. “I’m sorry too, Draco. But here we are.”

The two of you stood under the rain for a while, just enjoying each other’s company in one another’s arms. Neither of you would have thought you would be where you are now, but Draco would like to believe his birthday wish pulled through for once. Because for the first time in years, you were in his arms once more.

“Am I the best birthday present or what?” Your voice came out muffled before you pulled away and smiled up at him.

“The best present ever.” He pressed another loving kiss to your lips, letting you dip back as you always did whenever you kissed in the rain.

Only today was even more special.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[moonyslipstick]

I’ll Marry You Tomorrow

You were curled into the corner of the Gryffindor common room, a book half-open in your lap and Sirius Black tangled into the armchair beside you like he owned it — and you.

Which, according to the gossip circling the school like Nifflers to gold, he did.

Not in the terrible, possessive way. But in that impossibly Sirius way — all wicked grins and lazy arms thrown around your shoulders, like your body was his favorite piece of furniture and he couldn’t be bothered to sit up unless Remus said something especially cutting.

You shifted slightly, your legs tucked up beneath you, brushing his thigh. He smirked without even looking up from the deck of Exploding Snap cards he was flicking through with one hand.

“I felt that,” he murmured, low and lazy in your ear. “Careful, love, or I’ll have to drag you onto my lap again.”

“You make that sound like a punishment,” you replied sweetly, turning a page you weren’t really reading. Your pulse skittered in your neck.

Sirius tilted his head just enough to look at you, that crooked, dangerous smile spreading across his mouth. “You like it when I punish you, then?”

Your jaw dropped slightly. “Sirius!”

Across the common room, James nearly dropped his butterbeer. “Oi! We’re right here, mate!”

Remus didn’t even flinch, just turned a page in his book. “I warned you about sitting that close to them.”

Peter muttered, “They’re like Kneazles in heat.”

You tried to look scandalized. Really. But Sirius’s hand had slipped behind you, dragging his fingertips along the waistband of your jumper, and your brain had turned to soup.

Sirius leaned into your ear again, voice practically a purr.

“Want to sneak out? Just you and me? I know an empty classroom with a view of the moon.”

“You just want to cop a feel without an audience.”

He looked mock-affronted. “I always want to cop a feel, but the moon view is a bonus.”

You laughed despite yourself. “We’re not sneaking out. You’ll get us both detention.”

“You love it when I get detention.”

“Only because it makes you cranky and snuggly for a week.”

“Exactly.”

He kissed your temple with a casual softness that turned your whole body to butter.

You hated how easy he made it. How easy it was to love him.

Because Merlin help you, Sirius Black loved hard. And loud. And fiercely. The entire castle knew what you meant to him. He’d hexed a Slytherin for calling you a name last week and spent the next hour with your hand in his, fingers tapping your wrist like a drum, refusing to admit how worried he’d been when you cried in the lav.

And then there were the moments like now. Quiet ones. Domestic. Half the common room lounging near the fire, James and Lily bickering about Quidditch stats, Remus reading, Peter asleep with a chocolate frog half-melted on his lap.

And Sirius? Wrapped around you like ivy. Warm and smug and impossibly handsome, like sin wrapped in silk.

You closed your book. “Fine. Five minutes. Empty corridor. That’s it.”

He was on his feet before you could blink, pulling you with him and calling over his shoulder, “Don’t wait up, boys!”

“We won’t!” came James’s voice, followed by Lily’s very loud, “USE PROTECTION, YOU ABSOLUTE MENACE!”

You shoved Sirius as you passed the portrait hole, cheeks flaming.

The corridor outside was quiet, dimly lit by torches. He pulled you into the alcove just past the first suit of armor and pressed you into the wall like he couldn’t help himself.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all bloody day,” he whispered.

And then he kissed you.

Really kissed you.

The kind of kiss that had teeth and tongue and promise. The kind that left your knees weak and your chest aching and your soul clinging to him like a vine in storm.

His hands slid beneath your jumper, fingertips trailing fire across your skin. You gasped into his mouth, and he grinned like the devil himself.

“You’re cold,” he murmured against your neck. “Why didn’t you say?”

“I didn’t notice until you touched me.”

“Get used to it, love,” he said, his voice thick. “I plan to keep doing that for a long, long time.”

You kissed him again, because talking felt impossible with his mouth so close, and breathing wasn’t nearly as important as memorizing the taste of him.

“Tell me something real,” you whispered into his lips. “Not just snogging.”

He stilled a little. Eyes dark, serious. “Alright.”

You waited.

He rested his forehead against yours. “I think about marrying you sometimes.”

You blinked.

“What?”

He laughed softly. “I mean, not right now, obviously. We’re seventeen. But… yeah. I do. I think about it when you laugh like that. Or when you fall asleep on my shoulder in the library. Or when you hex James for being an arse and I just—” he shook his head, frustrated. “I can’t picture the rest of my life without you in it.”

You couldn’t breathe.

“I’m not joking,” he said, voice thick. “I’m a mess. My family’s a nightmare, I’ll probably die young, and I’ve got a list of issues longer than Filch’s record books, but… I love you. Madly. Stupidly. Completely.”

You didn’t answer.

You just grabbed his face and kissed him again — so hard and so slow that he made a sound low in his throat like he might lose his mind.

When you finally pulled back, you whispered, “I think about it too.”

His hands stilled at your waist. “You do?”

“Only all the time.”

And for once — the mighty Sirius Black, rebel of the Noble House of Black, flirt extraordinaire — went absolutely silent.

“Bloody hell. I’m going to marry you.”

You laughed. “One day.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Sirius.”

“Fine, next week.”

You rolled your eyes. “Come on, we have to go back before they start placing bets.”

He grinned. “Too late. Remus is the bookkeeper.”

Back in the common room, you both returned red-faced and smug.

Remus looked up from his book, unimpressed. “One galleon says they’re engaged by seventh year.”

“Two galleons they elope,” Lily added.

James raised his butterbeer. “To Sirius and his poor future spouse. May she never get tired of that bloody hair.”

You just leaned back into Sirius’s chest as he wrapped himself around you again, hands resting on your thighs now, more possessive than before.

“They’re not wrong,” he murmured in your ear. “I’ll marry you the second you let me.”

“You’ll wait,” you said, smiling against his collarbone.

“Not forever.”

“No,” you agreed, closing your eyes. “Not forever.”

[yasministration]

the talk - harry potter

concussions and interruptions au! summary: when james potter catches you and his son making out in his bedroom, he excitedly goes to tell his wife. but he isn't expecting her to call you both down for a talk no one can take seriously. wc: 1.7k+ a/n: this was a request!! tried finding the og post, but this is the fic we've all been counting down (the talk anon, reveal yourself)

In your defense, you thought Harry had locked the door.

But he hadn’t, and now you were forced to deal with the consequences of your actions. What actions? Well, you’d been giggling with Harry under the covers, the open window in his room letting the cold breeze send chills up your arms. Harry had pulled you closer to him, knees touching under the blankets, noses almost touching as you finished telling him a story. When a comfortable silence settled over you, Harry smiled softly, dipping his head down to press his lips to yours in a gentle kiss.

Sighing in satisfaction, you withdrew a hand from underneath the cozy shield of the blankets, snaking it into Harry’s soft hair. Harry grinned, kissing you shortly again, letting you feel the smile on his lips as he did so. You mumbled your boyfriend’s name, pulling him in closer to deepen the kiss. The smile fled from Harry’s face as he melted into your touch, fingers finding home on the curve of your hips. Harry parted his lips, pressing an open mouthed kiss to your lips, tongue gliding against your soft lips.

Humming, you opened your mouth, moaning softly as Harry’s tongue met yours, drifting into your mouth to taste you. He squeezed your hips at the sound, shifting his body to hover above you, lowering his hips to roll against yours. You wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders, pulling him closer to you as your legs fell open, giving him more space to settle his torso. With a wet noise, Harry’s lips separated from yours so he could stare at you for a moment, unmistakable love in his eyes. Smiling adoringly at him, you moved your arm from Harry’s shoulders to trail down his front, snaking up under his jumper to press a hand to his abdomen. He shivered, eyes fluttering shut momentarily as you massaged your nails onto his scalp with your other hand, his forehead resting against yours.

You slipped your hand out from under his jumper, instead curling around the soft, cottony fabric and forcing him closer to you, lips violently meeting as Harry lurched forward, a muffled sound leaving his lips. Harry pulled away from the kiss with a gasp, lips tugging upwards into a grin, a pleasantly surprised expression on his face.

“What happened to you?”

“Take this off.” Harry playfully rolled his eyes at the way you blatantly ignored his question, but he obliged nonetheless, abs flexing as he reached behind his neck to tug his jumper off. “Happy?” He asked, and you nodded eagerly, both hands cupping his cheeks to pull his face closer, pressing a short kiss to his lips. Harry snaked a hand to the nape of your neck, holding you close to him as you kissed, experimentally grinding his hips into your core. You whimpered, and Harry broke the kiss to look at you, his free hand coming up to stroke your cheek before connecting his lips to yours again, tongue immediately delving into your mouth to taste you, tilting his head to deepen the kiss as much as possible.

Then, of course, the door squeaked open.

You immediately knew who had interrupted the moment. If Harry’s mother were the one to come up, she would knock her fist against the door twice, waiting patiently for a call to come in. So of course, you well aware when Harry tore away from you, both your heads snapping to the door, you would find his dad standing there.

James Potter was at a loss for words, his mouth wide open in shock, the corners of his lips tugging up in amusement as Harry cried “Dad!” You sunk into the pillow behind you, a look of terror on your face as you slowly brought a hand up over your mouth, a horrified mumble of “Oh my god.” leaving your lips as your face began heating up in humiliation. This was so much worse than when Harry kissed you in front of his parents you’d never met at the time. Even worse than Professor Lupin catching you making out after curfew. God, it was even worse than him telling Harry’s parents too.

Harry’s dad retreated from the doorway, leaving the door wide open as the sound of his footsteps retreated. You and Harry both stared at the empty space James occupied seconds ago, and you tightly gripped the duvet, bringing it over your face as you groaned in embarrassment. “Oh my god!” You repeated, louder now.

Then, as though the situation wasn’t bad enough, a cautious call of “Harry, love? Can you and y/n come down for a minute?” came from Lily Potter’s familiar voice. “Oh my god.” You shot up from under the covers, all blood draining from your face as you realised what was about to happen. “This is the most humiliating moment of my entire life.”

Harry sat frozen, not answering his mum, too busy trying to urge the blush off his face. With shaky fingers, he pulled his jumper back on, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I can never show my face here ever again.”

“It’s okay, it’s-”

“Harry?”

Harry gulped thickly as his mother called for him again. He offered you a hand as he stood up from the bed, but you stubbornly shook your head, staring down at your feet as you followed him out of his room. You smoothed your hands down on your hair, cheeks embarrassingly hot as you tip toed down the stairs. Harry reached behind him to curl his fingers around your hand, guiding you towards the couch.

Glancing up momentarily, your eyes went wide as you spotted his godfathers, Sirius and Remus sitting on the next couch over. “Oh my god, this couldn’t get worse.” You whispered — more to yourself than anyone — but Professor Lupin heard, chuckling quietly as Harry huffed to his father “I can’t believe you tattled.”

Lily smiled sympathetically, tilting her head to the side, trying to meet your eyes. “You’re not in trouble.” You dug your face into your hands, refusing to look at anyone as you whined “This would be so much easier if we were in trouble.”

“We just didn’t realise you guys were already at the stage of - and we know your parents won’t have this talk with you-”

“Oh my god, we’re getting the talk?” Harry cried in horror, jaw going slack as he met his mother’s eyes. Removing your hands from your face, you turned to look at Harry with an incredulous look on your face as you gestured your arms outwardly. “What did you think this was?”

“Harry, I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen. Quite frankly, I’m proud of-”

“James.”

“Sorry, love. But look at him-”

“James.”

You took advantage of the little interlude, turning your face to directly tell Harry “I hate you for this.”

“For what?”

“For seducing me.” You whispered, watching as Harry’s embarrassed face was replied with an arrogant smile. “I barely seduced you, you just pounced on me.”

“Can I just say, I told you guys about what happened past curfew, and that was months ago, so I don’t know what you expected.” Remus shrugged, slinging an arm over Sirius’s shoulder. You groaned, falling back into the cushions and crossing your arms over your chest, bracing yourself for the awkward conversation. Inhaling deeply, you nodded at Harry's mum. “Okay, I’m ready. Just do it.”

“Honey, you’re acting like she’s about to pull the trigger on you. It’s just the sex talk.” Added Sirius, reaching over to fist bump a laughing James. “What’s your issue?” Lily snapped quietly, mumbling “She’s already embarrassed enough.” “And you’re making this worse by dragging it out.” Pointed out Remus to his best friend. Lily sighed, turning to face you, a pitiful smile on her face. She almost felt bad that you were so embarrassed, but the conversation needed to happen. She observed the way Harry tried putting a hand on your thigh, which you quickly slapped away, causing Harry to pout.

“Oh, he’s not getting any for a month.” Joked Sirius, and Harry turned to you with a panicked, almost pleading face. He would cry if you decided to turn him celibate for a month.

“Okay, you two,” Started Lily in a motherly voice. “We all count on the fact that you trust and love each other very much,” She glanced sideways, catching her husband’s proud grin. “And we know you wouldn’t have, well, relations if that wasn’t the case. But, you know, me and James had Harry very young-”

“Yeah we did.”

“James. And that can happen if you’re not very careful.”

You decided now was the time to die, making the mistake of looking away from Mrs. Potter to her husband, who couldn’t hide the delight from his face if he tried.

“So, please be sure to use protection-” “I’m gonna throw up.” Mrs. Potter ignored your comment and the way you moved a hand to shield your eyes, but unfortunately, it got a laugh from Harry’s dad and his friends, none of whom were taking the situation seriously. “Unless you want to get pregnant.”

“Speaking of, do you ever want to have kids?”

“I need to go touch some grass.”

You couldn’t even separate the three adults’ laughs anymore, all of them crying out with amusement. You felt your legs shake as you stood up from the couch, beelining for the door in the living room leading to the Potters’ backyard. A confused call of your name was blatantly ignored with a shake of your head. You stepped out into the night, huffing as the cold breeze overtook you. Groaning as two strong arms wrapped around you, you turned around in Harry’s arms to dig your head into his chest.

“That was the worse hour of my life.”

“Darling, that was maximum fifteen minutes.”

“An hour.”

“And I’ll sit through it a hundred more times if it means spending time with you.”

“Harry, you’re such a sap.” Harry lifted your chin up, making eye contact for you. “I’m sorry if it was really horrible for you.” You shook your head, pressing yourself on your tip toes to kiss him briefly.

“See? Barely need to seduce you.”

“Shut up.” But despite the embarrassment you felt, you were smiling, and Harry was too, leaning down to properly kiss you. “Should we go back upstairs?” He asked in a quiet whisper when he pulled away, eyes twinkling with mischief. You nodded, looking back into the house, where James was staring directly at you and Harry. He waved boyishly.

“We can go up through the window.”

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