#Harry Potter x reader

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 this is awkward..

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, you were fed up with James, deciding to put aside your pettiness you drag him away from the gryffindor party to talk to him.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever), r and james speaking is 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓵𝔂 inspired by gilbert confessing that he wants anne so effing bad bc he 𝓯𝔀 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝔂, lowkey dont hate me for making the “dreams” u want so like…. I just didn't know what to do bc like idk smh i set back women 50 years by that

a/n: tysm for all the love on this series!! y’all are NOT ready for the next chapter, writing it rn and 😭🙏 BUTTT tysm for 300🫶🫶 also I finished the last chapter... do y'all want me to post it today or edge y'all and post it tomorrow

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

It was now nearing the end of the school year—even if there was still a month to go. James could now be in the same room as you without glaring daggers at whoever you were talking to. Though he told himself he was over you, he knew deep down that the feelings never faded.

He told himself it didn’t matter. He told himself he was fine. And yet, every time he caught sight of you, every time your laughter reached his ears from across the room, it was as if someone had set fire to his resolve.

He wanted to talk to you so badly it was almost pathetic. But it was like the universe itself was conspiring against him—or, more specifically, like Finn Laurier had developed some sort of sixth sense for James’s intentions.

Because every single time James gathered enough courage, every time he braced himself to walk over to you, Finn would appear out of nowhere. Whether it was in the Great Hall, the library, or even during Quidditch practice, Finn always seemed to materialize by your side at precisely the wrong moment, stealing away your attention and leaving James feeling like the outsider in his own story.

It was infuriating.

“Mate, you’re grinding your teeth,” Sirius remarked casually one afternoon as they sat under the beech tree by the lake.

James startled, realizing with some embarrassment that Sirius was right. He quickly unclenched his jaw and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Sorry,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m just…”

“Just what?” Sirius prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” James lied, though his voice betrayed him.

Sirius gave him a knowing look. “If this is about her again, just—”

“It’s not about her,” James interrupted quickly, though he winced as the words left his mouth. He knew Sirius wouldn’t believe him, and he wasn’t sure he even believed himself anymore.

Sirius sighed, shaking his head. “Prongs, you’re going to drive yourself mad if you keep this up. Just talk to her already.”

“I’ve tried!” James snapped, louder than he intended. He lowered his voice and added, “I’ve tried, but every bloody time, Finn shows up. It’s like he’s got a bloody tracker on her or something.”

Remus, who had been quietly reading nearby, finally chimed in. “You know, maybe you’re overthinking this,” he said, not looking up from his book.

“How could I possibly be overthinking this?” James demanded, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Maybe Finn’s not doing it on purpose,” Remus suggested calmly. “Maybe it’s just bad timing.”

“Bad timing?” James repeated incredulously. “Bad timing doesn’t happen this often, Moony. This is a pattern.”

Remus gave him a skeptical look but didn’t argue further.

James leaned back against the tree trunk, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath. He hated how much this was bothering him. He hated how much control this entire situation had over him.

But most of all, he hated the thought that you might actually be happy with Finn.

It wasn’t that he thought Finn was a bad guy—quite the opposite, really. Finn was charming, talented, and annoyingly good at everything he did. He was the kind of guy parents adored, the kind of guy professors went out of their way to praise. And worst of all, he was the kind of guy who could make you smile in a way James had only dreamed of.

James opened his eyes, staring up at the branches overhead. “Maybe I should just give up,” he muttered.

Sirius snorted. “Yeah, right. That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve said all day.”

“I’m serious,” James insisted.

“No, I’m Sirius,” Sirius quipped, smirking.

James groaned, throwing a small pebble in his direction. “Not the time for jokes.”

“Fine, fine,” Sirius said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But seriously, you’re not giving up. You’re James Potter, remember? Stubborn, arrogant, never-takes-no-for-an-answer James Potter. You don’t give up on things you care about.”

James hesitated, staring at the rippling water of the Black Lake. He wanted to believe Sirius. He wanted to believe that there was still a chance, that you weren’t as far out of reach as you seemed.

But as he watched you across the courtyard later that day, standing beside Finn and laughing at something he said, James couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, it was too late.

But his doubt soon melted into something far more unsettling when he noticed your gaze shift. For the first time in what felt like forever, your attention wasn’t on Finn Laurier—it was on him.

James felt like he might throw up.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and his hands fidgeted with the hem of his robes as he quickly looked away. In fact, he didn’t just look away; he turned his entire body in the opposite direction, hoping to mask the flush rising to his cheeks.

“C’mon, James, you’ve got a Quidditch game to win today! Channel all that anger you’ve got towards Laurier into winning us the Cup!” Sirius said, clapping a hand on James’s shoulder with his trademark grin.

James gave a faint nod, trying to let Sirius’s words sink in. He wasn’t sure if it would work, but he had to admit—focusing on Quidditch might be better than brooding.

As the match began, Sirius’s advice started to help. Flying through the air, the roar of the crowd, and the adrenaline coursing through his veins almost made him forget the mess he was tangled in. Quidditch always had a way of making the weight on his shoulders feel lighter.

Almost.

At first, he wasn’t paying much attention to the game. His mind wandered back to you, back to everything that had gone wrong. He thought about what he would say, how he could even begin to fix things. And, like always, he couldn’t resist scanning the crowd for you.

Even in the middle of a fight, even when he swore to himself that he was done, James always looked for you in the stands.

And he found you—right where he didn’t want to.

You were sitting with Finn Laurier, your hand clasped in his. James’s stomach twisted painfully at the sight, and he forced himself to look away, though the image burned into his mind.

Of course. Finn fucking Laurier.

He sighed, his grip tightening on his broomstick. There was no point in hoping anymore. Whatever chance he’d had—if he’d ever had one—was gone now. Maybe he’d already been downgraded in your life: a friend at best, a stranger at worst. The thought stung, and James shoved it down, refusing to dwell on it any longer.

And then, something golden caught the corner of his eye.

The Snitch.

For the first time all game, James’s focus snapped into place. He leaned forward on his broom, his heart pounding—not from heartbreak this time, but from the sheer rush of competition. If nothing else, he could still win this. He could still bring home the Cup.

James shot after the Snitch with everything he had, the rush of wind against his face only fueling his determination. The crowd roared, but their voices blurred into the background. His world narrowed to one thing: the golden glimmer darting just ahead.

The Hufflepuff Seeker was hot on his trail, but James barely registered them. This was his moment. The Snitch veered sharply to the right, and James followed, his reflexes razor-sharp. He could feel the weight of his emotions—anger, heartbreak, frustration—all pouring into this chase.

The Snitch dipped low, skimming just above the grass, and James dove after it, his fingers outstretched. The Hufflepuff Seeker was closing in fast, but James didn’t care. He pushed his broom harder, faster, his body leaning forward so much it felt like he might fall off.

And then, his fingers closed around the Snitch.

The Gryffindor stands erupted into cheers, deafening and jubilant. The sound echoed across the pitch as James pulled up, the Snitch held high in triumph. For the first time all week, a genuine smile broke across his face.

He’d done it.

Back on the ground, his teammates swarmed him, yelling and celebrating as they lifted him off the ground in a flurry of hugs and pats on the back. Sirius was the loudest, of course, laughing as he shouted, “That’s my best mate! Did you see that dive? Bloody brilliant!”

James grinned, allowing himself to soak in the moment. But as the initial adrenaline rush faded, his thoughts drifted back to you.

Through the crowd, he spotted you walking toward the castle with Laurier. You looked happy—laughing at something Finn said, your hand still in his.

James’s chest tightened, the pain creeping back in.

Sirius slung an arm around his shoulders. “Oi, don’t let that git ruin your moment. You just won us the Cup, Prongs. Focus on that, yeah?”

James forced a nod, plastering a smile on his face. “Yeah. You’re right.”

But deep down, as the team carried him back to the common room, the ache lingered. Winning the match had been a distraction, but it wasn’t enough to erase what he felt for you—or the sting of seeing you with someone else.

Still, James promised himself one thing: he’d get through this. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. And who knew? Maybe, someday, you’d see him the way he saw you.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

The Gryffindor common room was a chaotic blur of red and gold, filled with triumphant cheers and laughter. The moment the team returned from the pitch, the party was already in full swing. Someone had charmed a banner to flash "Gryffindor Wins the Cup!" in shimmering letters, and butterbeer bottles floated around the room, courtesy of a cheeky charm from Sirius.

James stood in the center of it all, grinning as his teammates and housemates patted him on the back and congratulated him. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to bask in the glory of the victory, letting it drown out the knot in his chest. He’d won the game, and Gryffindor had the Cup—he deserved to enjoy it.

“Prongs!” Sirius yelled over the noise, shoving a butterbeer into his hand. “You’re the man of the hour! You better milk this for all it’s worth, because Merlin knows you deserve it.”

James laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t let me hear you say that too often, Padfoot. I might start believing it.”

Sirius gave him a devilish grin. “Oh, you will. Now, c’mon, let’s make some noise!” He climbed onto a table, raising his bottle high. “To Prongs, our Quidditch hero!”

The room erupted in cheers, and James couldn’t help but laugh, taking a sip of his butterbeer as the noise washed over him. For the first time all day, he felt lighter.

As the party went on, James moved through the crowd, chatting and laughing with his housemates. But no matter how loud the celebration got, his eyes kept drifting to the door, half-hoping, half-dreading to see you walk in.

And then, you did.

James froze mid-conversation, his heart doing that familiar stutter-step it always did when he saw you. You looked radiant, wrapped in Gryffindor colors, your cheeks flushed from the cold. But his chest tightened when he noticed Laurier trailing behind you, his hand resting casually on the small of your back.

James quickly turned back to his conversation, forcing a smile and pretending not to notice. He wasn’t going to let Finn Laurier—or his own stupid feelings—ruin the night.

“Oi, Prongs,” Sirius said, appearing at his side again. “Stop moping and do something fun. We just won the bloody Cup, mate! At least pretend you’re having the time of your life.”

James forced another grin. “I am having fun, Padfoot. Loads of fun.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “You’re staring at her again, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” James lied, taking a long sip of butterbeer.

Sirius groaned, grabbing James by the shoulders. “Look, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to stop torturing yourself, and you’re going to have a bloody fantastic time tonight. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll prank Laurier so hard he won’t know which way is up. Deal?”

James couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking his head. “Alright, deal.”

Hours later, the party was still going strong. Someone had turned the music up, and the common room had transformed into a dance floor. James found himself dragged into the middle of it by Lily Evans, who gave him a pointed look.

“Stop sulking, Potter,” she said, smirking. “You just won the Cup. Act like it.”

“I’m not sulking,” James said, though his half-hearted smile gave him away.

Lily raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, she tugged him into the rhythm of the music, and for a while, James let himself get lost in the moment.

It wasn’t until he caught sight of you again, laughing at something Laurier said, that the knot in his chest returned. He took a deep breath, plastered on another smile, and decided that, for tonight, he’d keep pretending.

He watched you from across the room as you and Laurier continued talking, laughter bubbling between you two. He could see the way you looked at him now—so different from the way you looked at him before. It was like there was a barrier, a wall that hadn’t been there when he first met you.

“Prongs,” Sirius appeared at his side again, his voice low and concerned. “Look, I know you’ve been through a lot, but this is ridiculous. You’re letting Laurier ruin your night—and you just won us the Cup, for Merlin’s sake. You’re allowed to be happy tonight. So go talk to her. If you don’t, I swear I’ll do it for you.”

James frowned at him, irritated. “I’m not talking to her, Pads. Not now.”

“Then at least get out of here and enjoy yourself,” Sirius pressed. “We’re celebrating, mate. You’ve earned it.”

James looked over at you one more time, and for a second, he almost gave in. But the knot in his chest was still there, tightly wound, and it made everything feel so much harder than it should’ve been.

But maybe... maybe he could find a way to feel better. Maybe he could lose himself in the celebration.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally muttered, glancing at his friends.

Sirius didn’t seem convinced but let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, but I’m not letting you go off and brood in some corner. The whole bloody school’s celebrating with you tonight.”

James smirked faintly, feeling a little lighter. Maybe he could pretend to be okay, at least for tonight. He could let the victory, the laughter, and his friends drown out the ache for just a little while longer.

But as the night continued, and as the music played on, James found himself once again looking toward the doorway, hoping—just hoping—that you’d look his way.

For the first time in forever, the world was finally on his side as he saw you quickly leaving Finn and walking straight to him.

“May I speak to you, please?” James nodded, Dumbfounded. 

You quickly grabbed his hand and went outside the common room and into the corridors. 

You took a deep breath, your fingers twisting nervously. “James… I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now.”

James’s throat went dry, his pulse quickening as he struggled to find his voice. “Yeah?”

You nodded, glancing down at your hands before meeting his gaze. “I—I’m sorry.”

That wasn’t what he had expected. Of all the scenarios he’d played out in his head, an apology hadn’t been one of them.

“For what?” he asked, genuine confusion coloring his voice.

“For everything,” you said in a rush, your words tumbling out before you could stop them. “For avoiding you. I was confused—about what I did that made you ignore me. And I guess I wanted to get back at you for ignoring me, so I decided to do the same to you. And… I’m sorry for whatever happened between us that made things so weird.”

James stared at you, your vulnerability hitting him like a Bludger to the chest. His heart ached at the uncertainty in your voice.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said quickly, shaking his head.

“Yes, I do,” you insisted, your voice firm despite the tears welling in your eyes.

“No, you don’t,” James countered, his tone soft yet resolute. “It’s not fair to put all of this on yourself. You’ve always been there for me, and I—well, I’ve been a terrible friend lately. I was practically acting like you didn’t exist.”

James faltered when he saw the blank expression on your face. Panic flickered in his chest—had he said too much?

But before he could say anything more, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

“Oh, James,” you murmured into his shoulder. “It’s okay. I—I was acting like you didn’t exist too, but only because you were doing it to me.”

He blinked, caught off guard, before slowly relaxing into the hug. He looked down at you, his hand instinctively reaching up to brush away a stray tear trailing down your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You shook your head, a small, watery smile breaking through. “We’re both sorry. Let’s just… not do this anymore, okay?”

James nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Deal.”

“It feels so much better having my best friend around again.” James’ smile faltered again, he never liked the word “best friend” when it came to you, he always wanted more.

“Definitely”

You two let each other talk for what felt like hours even though it was barely fifteen minutes. He enjoyed every second though, until you brought up Finn and future plans they may include him. He couldn't believe it, when had your parents met his? He remembers your dad telling him how much he was rooting you and him to be together, now he's okay with you dating some other dude? And worst of all, your father was okay with that same dude wanting to marry his daughter? James felt like throwing up.

“Then he said that my father laid it out on a silver platter.”

“Laid... what out on a platter?”

“My future! Gave him the blessing to...to propose. I don't know what to do.”

“You told me you don’t mind being married straight after Hogwarts if you truly loved the man. That being a wife and mother... is your dream. Finn is.. nice, and both of your guys’ parents are supportive. I don't understand. What's holding you back?”

“Just… one thing.”

“What am I supposed to do? Everyone else is just... moving on, and now you’re... and I’m still... We never even... And he’s there, and you’re—Merlin, you’re never going to find someone who—” James stopped, his voice cracking. “I know that much, so how... how am I supposed to... I can’t... I— We...”

Before you could speak–a drunk Sirius somehow found you two. “Woah James you're really speaking to her? Atta boy, now, let's get back to the party, cmon, we are going to do something cool, have you heard of ....” Sirius rambled on, tugging on James’ arm to drag him back to the party.

“I’ll be off, then.” You said, voice quivering as if hesitant to leave.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

All James could think about was the previous night—the talk you two had shared. Your words, your voice, the hesitation in your eyes—it all replayed in his mind like a haunting melody. What would’ve happened if Sirius hadn’t barged in, if James had told him to leave, if he’d been brave enough to stay in that moment with you?

“I think…” James began, his voice breaking as he paced the Gryffindor dormitory, “I think she might’ve been asking if I love her. And—and I think I told her to marry someone else.”

Sirius, slouched in the chair by the window, looked stricken. “Mate…” he started, his tone heavy with guilt. “If I’d known—if I knew what was happening—I wouldn’t have gone looking for you. I—I practically ruined your chances. Merlin, I’m so, so sorry.”

James stopped pacing, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t even know if she meant it. She said so much without really saying anything, and now I don’t know if I imagined it all.”

“‘Sure, take option two,’ when option one is all she wants for her future?” James muttered, his voice thick with frustration.

“What is option one?” Peter asked, his curiosity breaking the tension.

James scoffed, bitterness creeping into his tone. “It’s Finn, obviously.” He paused, his anger flaring. “But both their parents support it, and she told me that! Before she spilled all of that on me, we were talking and laughing like nothing was wrong. But now…” He exhaled sharply, his voice softening as he sat down on the edge of his bed. “Now it feels like I’m being asked to explain the rest of my life on a bloody ticking clock. And if I make the wrong decision, I’ve either ruined my life—or hers.”

The room fell silent. Sirius and Peter exchanged uneasy glances, while Remus seemed lost in thought, unsure of how to respond.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Meanwhile, you had confided in your mother about your plans the night before: to finally tell the man you truly loved how you felt. You hadn’t wanted to bring it up while you and James were laughing and enjoying each other’s company, but you knew if you didn’t seize the moment, you’d never say it at all.

What you hadn’t expected was for him to turn you down. To tell you—calmly, almost dismissively—that you should marry Finn.

Your mother was waiting for your response. You knew she expected good news, a letter confirming that you and James were finally together. Instead, you sat at your desk, penning words that left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Dear Mother,

I did what you told me to do, but I fear I shouldn’t have. We were talking just fine, and then I told him everything. I told him how I felt. And he told me to marry Finn.

Finn is lovely, yes—but he’s not James. I asked James if there was any chance for us, and he said no. At least now I have clarity on where I stand with him. And I know it sounds awful to compare Finn to James, but... maybe knowing what I know now, I can learn to be happy with Finn. Father and Finn’s family are all thrilled, after all. I don’t even want to think about what I would’ve done if James had said he felt the same.

You sighed, folding the parchment carefully and sealing it in an envelope. The weight of your words sat heavily on your chest, but you couldn’t dwell on them any longer. You needed to send this letter immediately.

Pulling on your cloak, you found yourself heading for one of the secret passages to Hogsmeade—the ones you and James had used so often. The memories stung, but you pushed them aside. This time, you’d be using the passage alone.

The quickest way to deliver your letter was through the owlery. You knew exactly which owl was the fastest.

As you walked, you let your mind wander to James one last time, allowing yourself the quiet ache of what could’ve been. You would never speak to him again, not like before. That part of your life was over.

Finn was your future now. And while it hurt to admit, deep down, you knew it was for the best.

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[unconventional-lawnchair]

King's Gambit

Mattheo Riddle x Potter!Reader

Summary: You go to a Ministry gala with your family, meeting and dancing with Mattheo Riddle, who is just looking to cause some trouble,

WC: 4.5k

CW: Potters Live Au, reader is a bit naive, uhm... a bit of an over protective family moment. Possible part one idk yet

The grandeur of the Ministry of Magic was on full display as you crossed the threshold of the ballroom with your parents. You were instantly struck by the magic of the scene before you. The high, enchanted ceiling shimmered with starlight, mimicking the night sky, while hundreds of floating candles illuminated the room with a warm, golden glow. The walls were draped with deep emerald and gold silks that shimmered as if enchanted, and charmed violins played a soft, elegant waltz in the background.

Couples were already spinning gracefully on the polished marble floor, their robes a dazzling array of colors. The scent of fresh roses and honeyed champagne filled the air, mingling with the low hum of conversations and laughter. It was all so intoxicatingly beautiful, the kind of scene you had only read about in fairytales.

James muttered beside you, his voice low as he leaned towards Lily’s ears. “All this extravagance, and they still haven’t managed to give half my team a decent raise in years.”

Lily gave him a pointed look, tugging slightly at his lapel to straighten it. “James,” She huffed softly, though there was no real bite to her tone. “Play nice tonight. It’s not the time to start a crusade. I did not marry a martyr.”

Her words earned a small chuckle- even a smile from him, and he shook his head with a quiet hum. “I'll play nice.” His hazel eyes softening as they met hers.

“It's all I ask.” Lily smiled with a teasing lift of her brow. For a moment, the two of them seemed lost in their own world, the years of love and trust between them clear in their shared gaze.

But the moment was short-lived. A procession of wizards and witches began to approach, eager to greet the famous Potters- the main reason your father hated these events. Lily straightened and fixed a pleasant smile on her face, while James sighed and reluctantly did the same, running his thumb along the small of your mother’s back.

You stood quietly beside your parents, watching as they navigated the growing crowd of well-dressed witches and wizards with a practiced ease you could only admire. As handshakes and polite greetings were exchanged, you couldn’t help but let your thoughts wander to them.

Your parents were obsessed with one another- there was no other word for it. The way your father leaned ever so slightly toward your mother, as if her presence grounded him in a room he clearly loathed. The way your mother’s smile lit up her face, genuine and kind, even as she endured endless small talk with people you both knew she’d rather avoid. It was more than impressive; it was love, the kind of love you’d always dreamed of.

You stole a glance at Harry beside you. He rolled his eyes when yet another Ministry official complimented your family, calling your parents “an inspiration to the wizarding world.”

“An inspiration, huh?” Harry muttered under his breath, leaning toward you. “Guess that makes us company.”

You bit back a laugh, your lips twitching as you murmured back, “Company? Speak for yourself, I'm plenty charming.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at you. “Is that so? I think you're far too much of a hopeless romantic for that. Please note the hopeless.”

Your mouth opened in mock offense, but before you could retort, your mother’s voice cut in smoothly.

“Children, behave,” Her tone was warm but firm as her eyes flicked between the two of you. She didn’t miss the smirk on James’s face, though. He always loved your playful banter, even if Lily pretended not to. As if you four hadn't come up with fifteen new flavors of insults for the obsequious little bootlickers on the ride over.

“Yes, Mum,” You and Harry chimed in unison, barely suppressing your laughter.

Despite the formality of the evening, moments like these reminded you that no matter how many people admired your family from afar, it was the love and humor between you all that made it so special. It wasn’t just about being “The Potters,” the golden family everyone seemed to look up to. It was about being your family- perfectly imperfect, brimming with laughter and love.

Still, as the line of greetings seemed endless, you couldn’t help but steal glances around the room, your attention drifting.

That’s when you saw him.

He was standing near the edge of the ballroom, casually leaning against one of the ornately carved marble pillars. His dark curls framed his sharp features, and the flickering candlelight seemed to make his stormy brown eyes gleam. Unlike most of the wizards here, dressed in stiff, perfectly pressed robes, he had an air of effortless rebellion. His tie was slightly loosened- okay, no it was definally falling off-, his robes were tailored but not overly formal, as if to say he couldn’t be bothered to fully conform to the expectations of the evening.

You couldn’t help but stare. He was impossible to ignore. Taller than you, but not too tall- just enough to crane your neck but not enough to make you ache from it- hair perfectly imperfect, as if he had charmed it that way, to capture the fractures of light that defined it’s mockery of shape. He looked entirely out of place among the glittering gowns and polished smiles, and yet, he carried himself with the confidence of someone who owned the room. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, as though he knew exactly the effect he had on the people around him.

Merlin, a smirk to match his eyes, eyes to match his hair, hair to frame his neck- like his features were crafted just for him. Carved from marble and stone with crackles of imperfections you'd have to dream up later. Even the crooked tug of his lips seemed intentional to tug at everyone of your poor heart strings.

There was a brilliant symphony in your chest that resonated in your stomach.

He was speaking to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, who stood rigid and composed as always, their platinum blonde hair shining in the golden light. Draco Malfoy stood beside them, his usual smug expression in place, though his posture was noticeably more subdued in the presence of the dark-haired boy.

“Who’s that?” You asked quietly, leaning toward Harry. Doing your best not to betray your throbbing heart.

He followed your gaze, and his expression soured immediately. “Mattheo Riddle,” He muttered. “Lucius’s nephew. Have you not seen him at school?”

Your stomach turned at the name. Riddle. As in that Riddle. You should have looked away right then, should have reminded yourself who he was and what his family represented. But something about him kept your gaze locked. He turned his head slightly, and for one brief, heart-stopping moment, his eyes met yours.

It was as if he could see straight through you. His smirk deepened, as though he were amused by the fact that you’d been caught staring. Slowly, deliberately, he inclined his head in a faint, mocking gesture of acknowledgment.

You felt your cheeks flush, and you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on a nearby couple twirling across the dance floor. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes lingering on you, nor the strange pull in your chest that urged you to look back.

“Don’t even think about it,” Harry said sharply, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “He’s trouble. Worse than Malfoy. Worse than Sirius.”

You shrugged, forcing a nonchalant tone. “I wasn’t thinking anything.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Good. Because if Mum and Dad catch you looking at him, they’ll lose their minds. And so will I.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t respond, your thoughts already wandering back to the boy across the room. For all of Harry’s warnings, you couldn’t deny the strange pull you felt. There was something about Mattheo Riddle that demanded attention, something dangerous and intriguing- and you weren’t sure if you wanted to run away from it or dive straight in.

No, you knew what you wanted.

But you knew that you shouldnt.

Your family exchanged more greetings, handshakes, and forced smiles, but you were distant, your thoughts circling the boy whose smirk had left an imprint on your mind. It wasn’t just his confidence or his looks- it was the way he seemed to take up space without effort, as though the world around him was merely a stage set for his amusement. Oh, and is he really as bad as your uncle?

Scratch that, considering their shared blood you didn't want to know.

Then, as if sensing your turmoil, he moved. Oh, you had been staring. Slowly, deliberately, Mattheo stepped away from the Malfoys, his movements unhurried but purposeful, like a predator approaching its prey. You felt a shiver run down your spine, though whether it was fear or anticipation, you couldn’t quite tell.

"He's walking over here," Harry muttered beside you, his tone dripping with irritation.

"Relax," You whispered, though your heart was racing.

"Relax? With him here? I don't think so."

But you barely heard your brother. Your attention was fixed on Mattheo as he stopped just a few paces away, his brown eyes meeting yours again, this time with a look of pure challenge.

"Potter," He said smoothly, nodding first to Harry before letting his gaze slide to you. His voice was low, rich, and laced with just enough amusement to make your cheeks warm. "I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been standing here with..." He paused and took an exaggerated swoop of his eyes across the crowd. The one slowly growing to stare at him. And you. "... no one taking you to the dance floor. It's a right shame, really."

Harry bristled beside you, his jaw tightening. "Maybe because we’ve been busy avoiding people like you."

Mattheo’s smirk widened as if Harry’s hostility only entertained him. Ignoring your brother, he extended a hand toward you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Care to join me for a dance? It seems a waste for someone like you to stay off to the side all night.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. You could feel Harry tense beside you, his protest hanging in the air, unspoken but palpable. You knew what this was- a game. A deliberate move to provoke Harry, your parents, and everyone else in the room who cared about the politics of family names and allegiances.

But as you looked at Mattheo, you couldn’t deny the spark of temptation. The air around him seemed to hum with electricity, pulling you in despite the warning bells ringing loudly in your mind.

The implications were crystal clear: a single dance with him would be enough to set tongues wagging for weeks. It would stir unrest, fuel speculation, and undoubtedly ruffle the feathers of both your family and the Malfoys. James Potter’s daughter, sharing a dance with Voldemort’s son? It was practically a scandal waiting to happen.

For a fleeting moment, you thought about the optics, about how this would play into the political games you despised so much. Mattheo, no doubt, was using you to create chaos, and you would be giving him exactly what he wanted if you accepted.

But then… you caught his eyes again, stormy and confident, daring you to say yes. They held none of the coldness or cruelty you expected- just a flicker of intrigue and something else you couldn’t quite place but you were dying to know. There was an electricity to his presence that left you breathless, like he was daring you to step into the unknown with him.

Merlin, those eyes. The longer you stared, the more you realized you cared far less about what people thought or the scandal it might cause. Politics were meaningless to you, but he- he felt dangerous, exhilarating, and impossible to ignore. What was one more Potter scandal? Merlin bless your parents.

“I-” You began, your voice catching slightly.

Harry tensed beside you, muttering low, “Don’t you dare-”

You turned your head, offering your brother a small, apologetic smile before slipping your hand into Mattheo’s. His fingers curled around yours, warm and firm, and you swore you caught the flicker of something softer in his smirk- oh- satisfaction, yes.

“Don’t wait up, Harry,” You muttered lightly, though your heart was hammering in your chest.

Mattheo’s smirk grew as he led you onto the dance floor, every movement deliberate and self-assured. The whispers started almost immediately, a ripple of murmurs spreading across the room as heads turned to watch. You didn’t care. All you could focus on was the warmth of his hand in yours and the way his gaze seemed to darken with every step.

“Brave choice,” Mattheo murmured as he pulled you into position, his voice low and velvety. “Or foolish. I haven’t decided yet.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a small, teasing smile. “Bravery and foolishness are often the same thing, don’t you think?”

His eyes sparkled with amusement as he placed a hand lightly on your waist, drawing you closer. “Perhaps. Though I doubt anyone’s ever called you foolish before.”

“Maybe they should,” You quipped, the playful edge to your voice masking the way your heart raced.

He chuckled softly, a low, rich sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Not tonight. Tonight, you’re the most captivating person in this room.”

You blinked away the sudden shock that rocked your shoulders. Oh, he's good. “You have a quick tongue. Familiar with making woman's hearts flutter or is that a side effect, Riddle?”

Mattheo's smirk deepened, his hand tightening just slightly on your waist as he leaned in, his lips brushing close enough to your ear that his breath tickled your skin. “I’d say it’s a bit of both, Potter,” he murmured, his voice rich and low, laced with amusement. “Though I’m surprised you’d think I need to try.”

Your cheeks burned, and you hated how easily he could make your heart race with just a few words. You arched an eyebrow, determined not to let him see the effect he had on you. “Confident, aren’t you? That arrogance must be exhausting.”

“Not at all,” He said smoothly, twirling you expertly as the music swelled around you. “Confidence comes naturally when you’re good at what you do.”

“And what exactly are you good at, Riddle? Charming unsuspecting girls into regrettable decisions?” Your words were sharp, but your tone was teasing, and you couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through you as his eyes flickered with something darker.

He grinned, his stormy gaze locking onto yours as he pulled you just a fraction closer. “Regrettable? Now, that’s a strong word. But tell me, do you regret this, Potter?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words caught in your throat as he dipped you suddenly, the world tilting for a brief, breathless moment. When he pulled you back up, his face was so close to yours that you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, could feel the warmth radiating off him. He didn’t look away, didn’t falter, as if daring you to answer honestly.

Your lips twitched into a small smile, and you tilted your head, meeting his gaze with a boldness you didn’t quite feel. “I’ll let you know when the dance is over.”

Mattheo laughed softly, a low, rich sound that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. He guided you into another turn, his movements as smooth and calculated as his words. When you settled back into the rhythm of the dance, he let his gaze drop briefly to the necklace resting against your collarbone.

“Moonstone,” he remarked, his tone casual but laced with curiosity. “That’s what Muggles call it, isn’t it?”

You blinked, slightly surprised by his observation. His eyes flicked back to yours, glinting with a quiet amusement as though he enjoyed catching you off guard.

“It is,” you replied, your fingers brushing the pendant absentmindedly. “Why? You have a sudden interest in jewelry, Riddle?”

He tilted his head, his smirk returning as if he knew something you didn’t. “Not sudden, no,” he said, his voice smooth. “But moonstone is… interesting. It’s traditionally given as a gift for younger girls, is it not? Or perhaps you’re just sentimental?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, though there was no real heat behind it. “I got it when I was younger,” you admitted, lifting your chin slightly. “My mum gave it to me. And what about you, Riddle? How does someone like you know so much about jewelry?”

Mattheo’s smirk deepened, his hand tightening slightly on your waist as he leaned in. “Let’s just say I have a talent for noticing things most people overlook,” he murmured, his eyes dropping to the pendant once more before flicking back to yours. “Though I’ll admit, it looks best on you tonight of all nights. I am perhaps bias.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. Instead, you raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a teasing smile. “And here I thought you only noticed trouble, Riddle. Didn’t expect you to have an eye for fashion.”

He laughed again, the sound light and unrestrained. “I’m full of surprises, Potter,” he said, his voice dropping just slightly. “Though if you’d like, I can stop noticing. I doubt anyone else would’ve caught the moonstone detail.”

You shook your head, amused despite yourself. “You’re an enigma, Riddle.”

“As I've been told.” He leaned closer with a wink that sent a ripple of hissing through the onlookers you had forgotten about.

The music drew to a close, and Mattheo slowed the dance, his hand still resting lightly at your waist. The smirk on his lips never wavered as he stepped back, his stormy gaze holding yours for a moment that felt much too long. Then, without releasing your hand, he turned toward where your parents stood, his expression shifting into one of perfect, calculated poise.

Your heart sank as realization dawned. “Mattheo,” you hissed under your breath, but he merely cast you a sideways glance, one brow quirked in amused defiance.

He led you toward James and Lily with deliberate grace, his every movement purposeful and commanding. The whispers in the room seemed to grow louder as the crowd parted for him, all eyes fixed on the Riddle boy escorting the daughter of James Potter across the polished ballroom floor.

James, who had been watching the dance unfold with growing tension, straightened immediately as the two of you approached. His hazel eyes flicked to where Mattheo’s hand still clasped yours, his expression darkening. Lily, by his side, wore a polite but cautious smile, though her gaze was sharp and assessing.

When you reached them, Mattheo finally released your hand but bowed his head slightly in a gesture of formal respect. “Mr. and Mrs. Potter,” he began smoothly, his voice rich and confident, “thank you for the honor of allowing me a dance with your daughter. It was, without question, the highlight of my evening.”

James’s jaw tightened visibly, his posture stiffening, but before he could respond, Mattheo turned his attention to you. His eyes softened just enough to make your breath hitch as he lifted your hand once more, his grip gentle but firm.

“And to you,” he said, his tone dropping to something more intimate, “thank you for indulging me, Miss Potter. You were exquisite.”

Before you could react, he bent down and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, lingering just long enough to send your heart into a wild frenzy. The warmth of his lips against your skin and the way his eyes held yours as he straightened left you speechless- and painfully aware of the sharp intake of breath from your father.

Mattheo’s smirk returned, subtle but unmistakable, as he inclined his head once more toward James and Lily. “Enjoy the rest of your evening,” he said smoothly, stepping back with practiced elegance. “I look forward to seeing you all again.”

With that, he turned and strode away, his movements calm and self-assured as if he hadn’t just ignited a firestorm of whispers and tension. The room seemed to buzz in his wake, but you could barely hear it over the pounding of your heart.

James cleared his throat, breaking the silence, though his tone came sharp and restrained. “Care to explain what that was?” His hazel eyes flicked to you, his voice low enough not to attract attention, but every word carried the weight of his disapproval.

You hesitated, glancing at Lily, hoping for support. She was watching you carefully, her expression softer than James’s but no less concerned. Harry, on the other hand, stood beside her with his arms crossed, his face set in a scowl that mirrored your father’s.

“It was just a dance,” You placated, trying to sound calm, though your pulse was still racing. “He asked. I said yes. That’s it. If I had said no, you know what the tabloids would say by morning.”

James’s jaw clenched visibly, his hazel eyes darkening as he processed your words. “You think this is about the tabloids?” He hissed, his voice low but taut with tension. “I don’t give a damn about the papers. This is about him. About what he represents and the fact that he knows exactly how to manipulate situations like this.”

“He’s right,” Harry interjected sharply, his arms still crossed as he glared at you. “Mattheo Riddle doesn’t do anything without a reason. You think he asked you to dance just because he wanted to? He’s playing a game, and you’re letting him win.”

You squared your shoulders, refusing to shrink under their disapproval. “I didn’t let him win anything. I made a choice, and I handled myself perfectly fine. Do you have any idea what it would’ve looked like if I turned him down in front of everyone? Half the room would’ve spun it as a Potter snubbing a diplomatic gesture, and the other half would’ve accused us of holding old grudges.”

James’s lips pressed into a thin line, but Lily placed a calming hand on his arm before he could respond. “She’s not wrong,” she said softly, though her expression remained serious. “If she’d refused, it would’ve caused a scene, and not the kind we could easily recover from. But that doesn’t mean we can ignore what just happened.”

You turned to her, your voice quieter now. “I know who he is. I know what his name means. But for Merlin’s sake, it was a dance. That’s all.”

James exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as if trying to rein in his frustration. “It wasn’t just a dance,” he muttered, his gaze flicking toward where Mattheo had disappeared into the crowd. “Not to him. Not to anyone who saw it.”

Lily’s eyes softened as she looked at you. “Your father’s right. Whatever Mattheo’s intentions are, they’re not simple. He’s too calculated for that.”

“Or maybe,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended, “he’s not as much of a villain as everyone thinks he is.”

Harry let out a derisive snort. “You can’t be serious.”

You turned to him, your jaw tightening. “I didn’t say he was a saint, Harry. I’m just saying maybe he’s not the monster you’re all making him out to be.”

James stepped closer, his voice quieter but no less intense. “You don’t know him, and you don’t know what he’s capable of. People like him don’t do anything without a reason, and whatever his reason was tonight, it wasn’t good.”

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of doubt. But then you remembered the way Mattheo had looked at you- not with malice or cruelty, but with a curiosity that had felt startlingly genuine.

“I can handle it,” you said firmly, meeting your father’s gaze. “I’m not a child, Dad. I know what I’m doing.”

James stared at you for a long moment, his expression a mix of frustration, concern.

Then, James’s hard gaze softened slightly as your words hung in the air, the tension between you crackling like static. He ran a hand through his unruly hair again, a telltale sign of his inner turmoil. For all his frustration, for all his protective instincts screaming at him to put a stop to whatever this was, he couldn’t stay angry with you for long. He never could.

He let out a slow, resigned breath, the stern lines of his face easing just enough to remind you of the man who had always been your safe haven. “You’re not a child,” he admitted finally, though the words seemed to cost him. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to worry about you. It’s my job, whether you like it or not.”

You blinked, surprised by the shift in his tone. His hazel eyes met yours, and though they still carried a flicker of disapproval, there was something else there now- something softer, more vulnerable. “You’re my daughter,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m always going to want to protect you. Even if that means protecting you from yourself.”

Lily stepped in then, her hand resting gently on James’s arm as she gave you a small, understanding smile. “Your father’s trying, love,” she said softly. “He just… doesn’t want to see you hurt. Neither of us do.”

Harry, however, was less inclined to soften. “You’re making a mistake,” he muttered, his arms still crossed tightly. “And when it backfires, don’t come running to me.”

Lily shot him a sharp look, her tone firm but even. “Harry.”

He huffed but said nothing more, his scowl firmly in place.

James exhaled again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look,” he said, his tone gentler now, “if you’re so sure you can handle this… fine. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. But I swear to Merlin, if he so much as looks at you again- ”

“Dad,” you interrupted, a small smile tugging at your lips despite everything. “I can handle it. I promise.”

He studied you for a long moment, his hazel eyes searching yours for something- reassurance, perhaps, or a sign that he could need to fight this battle for you- like he always had. Eventually, he nodded, though it was clear he wasn’t entirely convinced.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “But just… be careful. Please.”

Lily squeezed his arm, her own expression a mix of concern and quiet pride. “We trust you,” she said softly, her green eyes meeting yours. “Just… don’t give us a reason to regret it, okay?”

You nodded, the tension in your chest easing slightly at her words. “I won’t.”

James muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like we’ll see, but he didn’t press the matter further. Instead, he stepped back, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction as he gave you a weary but affectionate look.

“Go on,” he said, his voice tinged with reluctant humor. “Enjoy the rest of the ball. Just… maybe avoid any more dances with Riddle.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at that, the sound lightening the mood just enough to ease some of the lingering tension. “I’ll do my best.”

As you turned to rejoin the crowd, you felt a surge of gratitude for your family- for their love, their concern, and even their overprotectiveness. They didn’t always make things easy, but you knew their hearts were always in the right place.

Even if Harry could be a prat about it.

[insidekatmind]

Battle Howgarts- Blaise Zabini

Wearning: angst,sweet final.

It was currently the Battle of Hogwarts. Spells illuminated the night like twisted fireworks, flashing green, red, and gold. The cacophony of shouts, explosions, and the dull thud of bodies hitting the ground filled your ears, drowning out even your own frantic heartbeat. Loved ones fell all around you, their faces frozen in pain or determination, and the castle you had come to think of as home was crumbling under the onslaught.

You had just disarmed and stunned a Death Eater, his wand flying from his hand before he collapsed onto the cold stone floor. There was no time to pause, no moment to catch your breath. You were searching for Blaise, your boyfriend, whose dark eyes and sharp wit had always been your anchor in the chaos of this war. You hadn’t seen him since the fighting intensified, and a cold dread gnawed at your chest.

“Blaise! Where are you?” you called, your voice raw from shouting spells and screaming warnings.

You turned a corner and froze. The sight before you made your blood run cold. Blaise was on the ground, his body convulsing, his hands clawing at the air as if trying to fend off an invisible attacker. His face was twisted in agony, and blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. He was under the Cruciatus Curse. A tall Death Eater stood over him, his wand pointed with a cruel smirk curling his lips.

“Blaise!” you screamed, sprinting toward him.

The Death Eater turned to you, his wand now aimed in your direction. You didn’t give him a chance to cast.

“Stupefy!” you yelled, and the red beam of light struck him square in the chest, sending him flying back into the wall. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

You dropped to your knees beside Blaise, pulling him into your arms. His body was trembling violently, and his usually warm skin was cold and clammy. His dark eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy, but they widened slightly when they saw you.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, brushing a strand of blood-matted hair from his forehead. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

“Y/N,” he croaked, his voice barely audible over the chaos around you. “I… I couldn’t…”

“Shh,” you murmured, your heart breaking at the pain in his voice. “Save your strength. You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

He shook his head weakly, his hand clutching at your sleeve. “You have to… go. You… you can’t stay here.”

“I’m not leaving you,” you said firmly, your grip on him tightening. “We’re getting out of here together.”

You glanced around, your mind racing. You needed to get him to safety, but the halls were a battlefield, and you didn’t know how far you could go before encountering another Death Eater. Still, you couldn’t leave him here, not like this.

“Can you stand?” you asked, your voice soft but urgent.

“I… I don’t know,” he admitted, wincing as another wave of pain wracked his body.

“We’re going to try,” you said, determination hardening your tone. You slipped your arm under his shoulders, supporting as much of his weight as you could, and helped him sit up. He groaned in pain, but he didn’t resist.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice shaky but insistent. “If something happens to me…”

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” you interrupted, your eyes blazing with fierce conviction. “I won’t let it.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his gaze softening despite the agony etched across his features. “I love you,” he said, the words barely more than a breath.

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice breaking as tears blurred your vision. “So you’re going to fight, Blaise. For me. For us.”

With great effort, he nodded, leaning heavily against you as you helped him to his feet. You cast a quick glance around, ensuring the corridor was clear, and began guiding him toward the nearest staircase, your wand held tightly in your free hand.

Every step was a struggle, Blaise’s weight dragging on you, but you refused to stop. The sounds of battle grew louder as you neared the Great Hall, and you prayed you could find help before it was too late.

“Just a little further,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure if it was meant to reassure him or yourself.

Blaise’s grip on your arm tightened. “Y/N,” he murmured, his voice weak but filled with trust. “I… I believe in you.”

Those words gave you the strength to keep going, even as your legs trembled and fear threatened to overwhelm you. You would protect him, no matter what. Together, you would survive this night and all the darkness it held.

Your determined journey was halted by the sound of footsteps behind you. You recognized that brisk walking pattern; it was Draco Malfoy.“Y/N!” he called out, his voice filled with urgency.

You turned to see him hurrying towards you, his wand clutched in his hand, his face pale and tense. His eyes flicked from your face to Blaise’s slumped form, and he grimaced.

"Draco I have to bring him in, shield us" you say as you entered Hogwarts.

Malfoy nodded and hurried to your side, wand held aloft. "I've got your back. Let's go."You continued forward, Draco on one side and Blaise on the other, the clamor of the battle growing louder as you drew nearer to the Great Hall. You could see the doors now, the entrance to the iconic room now battered and scarred from the fighting.

“hold on a little longer love” you say softly to Blaise taking him to the infirmary.

Blaise nodded feebly, doing his best to keep his breathing steady. He winced as another bout of pain coursed through his body, but he was determined to keep going, for you."I'll be fine," he mumbled, forcing a weak smile. "Just need a quick nap."

As you approached the infirmary, you spotted Madam Pomfrey, the school's medi-witch, rushing around with a handful of other healers, tending to the wounded that were already there.

"no love, don't close your eyes stay with me" you murmur softly.

Blaise swallowed hard, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours. "Trying… trying. It's just…" He let out a sharp hiss of pain, his hands clenching and unclenching.Madam Pomfrey, hearing your urgent call, looked over and immediately saw the state Blaise was in. She hurried over, her face taut with concern. "What happened?"

"Madam Pomfrey it's urgent, he's been injured, please take care of him" you say with concern as you gently hold Blaise's hand. "Quickly, over here," Pomfrey instructed, gesturing towards one of the empty beds.

With Draco's help, you carefully laid Blaise down, his form looking fragile against the white sheets. Pomfrey immediately set to work, her hands swift and sure as she examined him, muttering incantations under her breath. You stood back, your chest tight with fear and worry. Draco kept a steady hand on your shoulder, offering silent support. Time seemed to blur as Pomfrey worked, the sounds of the battle outside muffled by the thick walls of the infirmary.

Every now and then, Blaise would moan or twitch in pain, his features pinched with suffering. You yearned to hold him, to tell him everything would be okay, but you didn't want to get in Pomfrey's way.

you approach Blaise softly. "It's ok love stay with me, hold on" you say softly grabbing his hand. Blaise's fingers curled weakly around yours, his grip feebler than usual. "Stay... stay with me," he rasped, his voice rough and thin.

His dark eyes opened a fraction, seeking yours, and you could see the fear and pain there, despite his attempts to conceal it.

you nod softly, holding his hand tightly. "yes love, I'll stay with you, I love you". Blaise managed a tiny, weary smile, his fingers giving your hand a light squeeze. "Love you too," he whispered, his throat working as he swallowed.

Pomfrey continued her work, her brow furrowed in concentration, her movements quick and efficient.Draco stood a little way away, his gaze fixed on Blaise, his expression solemn.

You smile and sit on his bed and gently caress his face. “It's going to be okay Blaise, you're healing” you say softly. Blaise leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut as a sigh escaped his lips. "Hurts..." he managed, his voice barely above a whisper.

As Pomfrey worked, the color in his face began to return, though his breathing was still ragged and his skin slick with sweat. You kiss Blaise's lips softly. “it's okay love, I'm with you” you say softly.

Blaise's lips parted slightly beneath yours, a huff of air escaping through them. He tried to speak, but another wave of pain overtook him, and he shuddered, his hand clenching against yours.Pomfrey worked silently, her hands moving over Blaise's wounded body, incantations muttered under her breath. The other healers fluttered about, aiding her and tending to other patients as well.

You continue to caress his hand, while you leave sweet kisses on his face and you also murmur healing spells.With each kiss and every murmured spell, Blaise's breathing began to steady, his trembling subsiding, if only slightly.

He turned his face toward you, his half-lidded eyes full of pain and gratitude. "Y/N..." he murmured, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"Yes love?" You ask softly. "Don't leave me," he said hoarsely, his grip on your hand tightening weakly.

Pomfrey glanced over, her expression softening at the sight of Blaise's plea. "You're doing well, Mr. Zabini," she said quietly, her hands still moving over his body. "The pain should start waning shortly."

you smile softly and kiss his lips softly. “I will never leave you, I am here with you, always and forever” you say softly. Blaise's lips trembled, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. "Promise…?" he whispered, his voice breaking slightly.

Pomfrey smiled faintly, her hand pausing on Blaise's chest, where the wound was slowly mending. "Looks like our Mr. Zabini is a fighter," she said with a small chuckle.

You too had tears in your eyes and smiled sweetly at Blaise. "promised love". Blaise let out a shaky exhale, his expression relaxing slightly, the corner of his lip twitching upwards. "I… I never doubted that," he managed, his voice still weak but regaining some of its usual smoothness.

Pomfrey gave a satisfied nod. "He's stabilizing," she said, her eyes darting between Blaise and the various instruments she had set up.

Hearing her words, you smile sweetly at Madame Pomfrey. "Thank you so much".

Pomfrey gave you a brief smile, her hands continuing to move over Blaise's body. "Just doing my job, dear," she said briskly. "But he's still not out of the woods yet. He'll need plenty of rest and continued care in the coming days."

You nod and mutter more healing spells as you continue to caress his hand and give him several kisses on his face.

With each spell and each kiss, some color returned to Blaise's cheeks, and his breathing slowly evened. The pain was visibly ebbing, replaced by a deep weariness that pulled at his eyelids.He opened his dark eyes a fraction, his gaze finding yours. "You're... an angel," he whispered, a hint of his usual smirk dancing on his lips.

You smile softly and give him a kiss on the forehead. "and you are a fighter".

Blaise chuckled weakly, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair away from your face. "Guess we're both stubborn as hell, then," he murmured, his eyes sparkling with just a hint of his usual fire.

Pomfrey glanced over again, a small flicker of amusement in her eyes. "Glad to see our Mr. Zabini regaining some of his usual personality," she said, a slight smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

Blaise huffed softly, his gaze returning to you. "Can hardly be charming while writhing in pain, can I?"

You giggle softly at his words and squeeze his hand tighter.

Blaise's fingers curled around yours, his grip a bit stronger now. He winced a bit as he shifted on the bed, trying to find a more comfortable position."Pomfrey, any chance I can sit up?" he asked, his voice still rough but more lively than before.

Pomfrey chuckled. "You're going to give me grey hair, you know that?" she said, but she moved to help him sit up.

With Pomfrey's help, Blaise slowly sat up, his back resting against the pillows that had been propped behind him. He let out a sharp exhale, the effort clearly taking it out of him."Bloody hell," he muttered, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

You look at him worriedly and help him. Blaise's eyes met yours, seeing the worry written on your face. He squeezed your hand gently, a silent reassurance."I'm alright," he whispered, though the slight tremble in his voice betrayed his exhaustion.

You smile softly and kiss his lips softly. "I love you so much". Blaise's lips curled into a small smile beneath yours. "Love you too," he murmured, his hand coming up to rest against your cheek. "Don't look so worried, love. I'll be fine. Pomfrey's got me all patched up."

You lean into his touch and nod softly looking at him. Blaise's eyes darkened, their usual warmth returning as he looked at you. "Besides," he said quietly, a hint of his usual wry humor creeping into his voice, "I can't have my charming reputation ruined by a minor injury. Have to keep up appearances."

You giggle softly and hug him with love and care. Blaise wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply, relishing the familiar warmth and comfort of your embrace.He held you as if he never wanted to let go, his grip a little tighter than usual.

You gently stroke his back. Blaise let out a sigh at your touch, his tension and weariness starting to melt away. He pressed his face against the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin."Just stay with me, love," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble. "Just... stay."

Blaise's arms looped around you tighter, holding you against him, anchoring himself to you. He nuzzled his face into your neck, his lips pressing gently against your skin."Promise?" he whispered, a slight hitch in his voice betraying his vulnerability.

“I promised love” you say lovingly

[pomegranatesarchive]

hello can i pls request rasgulla and pani puro with fred weasley??? (in my head it’s like a friends to lovers type situation)

rasgulla: "why are you looking at me like that?" pani puri: "you kissed me! you kissed me, how's that not a big deal?"

You knew it was a mistake the second you pulled back from Fred. His eyes were closed in complete bliss, lips puckered out slightly.

You cringed into yourself slightly, looking everywhere but at the boy in front of you.

You didnt see it, but Fred's lips slowly turned upward into a smile.

You paused, taking a slight breath, "I'm...sorry." you whispered.

You two stood in silence for a couple minutes before you gained the courage to turn and look at your best friend. He was staring at you will the widest eyes you'd ever seen, his cheeks pink with a goofy smile on his face.

"What?" you asked defensively, wrapping your arms around yourself, "Why are you looking at me like that?" you gave him a look.

He shook his head, seemingly trying to gather his thoughts, but you had already turned with a scoff, "Whatever Fred—"

Fred, with panicked eyes, gripped your wrist, turning you back around, "Wait, wait, what's wrong?"

You snatched your hand back, "Nothing's wrong, okay? Just forget about it."

Fred opened and shut his mouth multiple times, "Forget? About...the kiss?"

"Yes, Fred! What else would I possibly be talking about," you snapped, rolling your eyes, "It's not a big deal, mistakes happen."

Suddenly, Fred looked incredibly offended, "Not a big deal? Mistake?" He shook his head, "No no! You kissed me. You kissed me, how's that not a big deal?"

You spluttered, looking around the dark hallway with your mouth open in shock as if you had an audience "J-just forget about it okay? Don't ruin this."

"You ruined this the second you kissed me!"

"It was a mistake!"

"You're hurting my feelings!"

You both paused, taking deep breaths, it was Fred who broke the silence, "We've known each other for ten years."

you could only nod, "You've been my best friend for eight years." he continued.

You resisted the urge to make a snarky comment, Fred stuttered for a moment, "And I've been in love with you for five years."

You two stared at each other awkwardly, both taking deep breaths in and out. Finally, it was you who broke the silence, "I thought George was your best friend."

The ginger gave you an unimpressed look, and instantly you felt horrible, "Sorry for saying our kiss was a mistake."

Fred only nodded, "It wasn't.. I was just, I dunno, didnt want to make it awkward I guess." you shrugged, playing with the loose string on your robe.

Fred continued to stay silent and you were starting to worry, "I really am sorry....it was a big deal, a really big deal. Like huge."

You peered up at him, who simply stared down blankly, "Are you mad at me?" you murmured, "Because you can if you want— I was mean—"

"Can we kiss again?"

You paused, mind going blank, before quickly nodding, "Yes, yes we can."

[msmk11]

Not Worth Your Tears

Harry Potter x gn!reader

WC: 843

CW: allusions to people being bitchy and judgy

Summary: Afternoon plans with people you know don’t go according to plan, leaving you upset. Good thing you have a lovely boyfriend to comfort you.

A/n: definitely not based on true events (except I don’t have a harry to comfort me)

The door shuts with a thud, the decisively unpleasant noise the perfect ambience for your current mood. You slide off your shoes and kick them into the growing messy pile- one you and Harry swear you’ll clean up but never do. You hang your keys on the hook and let your bag slump off your shoulder. You feel terrible, a heavy heart weighing down your chest, but don’t want to let your sweet boyfriend see. He’s sitting on the couch in the living room, the perfect picture of comfort in one of his favorite hoodies and matching sweatpants. The rugby game plays from the tv and Harry is watching it intently. At the sound of your footsteps into the kitchen, however, his gaze instantly falls to you.

“Hi baby! How was lunch?” he asks sweetly.

Maybe you’re just imagining it, but he sounds extra hopeful and positive today. You know he’s excited to hear about your lunch. Though you suppose he’s always excited to listen to whatever you have to say. It breaks your heart, then, that you don’t have good, exciting things to share.

“It was good,” you say, refilling your water bottle in the kitchen. Your voice is tighter than you like and you cringe.

“Everything okay?”

You should’ve known he’d clock you instantly. No matter how hard you try, you cannot hide your feelings from Harry. So you don’t bother. As soon as you turn around and see the comforting, loving face of your boyfriend a sob escapes you. His pretty features morph from mild concern to distress, and he bolts up from his seat pulling you into his arms.

You wrap your own around him tightly, shaking in his hold and crying aggressively. Harry runs a hand up and down your back soothingly.

“Did something happen at lunch?”

“Mhmm-“ you hum, nodding your head.

Your boyfriend guides you to the couch to sit down, his comforting embrace never weakening despite the movement. His green eyes gaze into yours tenderly, “wanna tell me about it?”

You take a shuddering breath and only get out a syllable before you choke on another sob.

“Shhh, it’s okay. Take your time baby. And try and take some deep breaths for me.”

Harry makes soothing circles on your lower back as you cling to him tight. His steady breathing and faint cologne calms you a little and you’re able to take a deep breath.

He kisses your hairline, “good job, sweetheart.”

“I-it’s just. I felt so out of place today,” you confess, “like I didn’t belong.”

Harry’s heart shatters into a million pieces and his hold on you tightens, “did someone say something? Or do something?”

You sniffle as a few stray tears continue to make tracks down your face, “not exactly. It’s just. They-“

You hiccup.

Your boyfriend presses another tender kiss to your hairline encouragingly.

“It was just so obvious that they- that they thought they were so much better than me. They- they’d speak to me but it was like they were…. talking down to me.”

Harry’s jaw ticks in anger but he keeps it to himself, instead focusing on you, “I’m sorry that happened, baby. People are just plain arrogant and mean sometimes.” He kisses your head once more as he traces patterns into your arm, “but you know it’s not true, right? That they’re better than you. Because they’re not. In fact, you’re ten times better than they could ever be.”

“I- I know they’re not better than me. It’s just,” you look down at your lap, “it’s really dehumanizing, to be seen as less than because of some absence of an ‘it’ factor, or wealth or something.”

Fingers brush against your jaw and your chin is raised so that you’re looking Harry in his eyes again, “sweetheart, I know. I get it. The Dursleys were like that too. It really sucks, and kills your confidence. But just remember they’re not worth these tears baby.”

He places a kiss to your forehead, “you’re so pretty,” a kiss to the tip of your nose, “and smart,” a kiss to your cheek, “and kind,” then the other cheek, “and witty,” and a kiss to your lips, “and the best girl I know.”

You’re a flustered mess by this point and it makes Harry smirk in spite of the emotional situation.

“I think you’re obligated to say those things,” you murmur, playing with his free hand.

“Only my heart obligates me to say it,” your boyfriend answers thoughtfully, “it bursts with so much love for you that I can’t help but say all the wonderful things I love about you.”

You look at Harry fondly, eyes trailing over his dark skin, sharp jawline, and lovely emerald eyes that hold so much love for you. You kiss his cheek gratefully and lovingly.

“You feeling any better?” He asks softly, cupping your face.

“A little,“ you answer with a shrug.

He leans closer, lips inches from yours, “then let me help you, baby. Let me help you feel better and forget those silly people.”

[solsential]

Summary: remus takes care of sick!reader

Remus Lupin x reader

wc: 568

a/n: for my own pleasure after being sick for the past few days

——————————————————————————

Remus had noticed it since the day before, the paleness of your face and the sudden constant sneezing. You had just shrugged it off as allergies, busy with work and errands you did not have enough time in the day to think much of it.

That night, you had spent most of it tossing and turning, your clogged nose not allowing you to breathe properly. Each breath felt more and more like a struggle, and the heat of a fever creeping up on your body.

So by the time morning rolled around it was no surprise that you were barely able to get up from bed, your body felt weak, your face flushed with a high fever. You felt completely miserable, and every attempt to stand up only left you feeling dizzy.

Remus had gotten up quietly to not disturb you. He moved swiftly through the kitchen, putting together a soothing herbal tea that he had made for himself whenever he was ill. He poured the tea into your favorite mug and carefully walked back to the bedroom. He opened the door as quietly as he could, not sure if you had fallen back asleep.

The room was quite dark, the curtains were shut letting minimal light in so that it didn’t aggravate your aching head. He could hear your breathing, shallow and unsteady.

“Hey, love,” Remus' voice was gentle and quiet as he walked through the room. Noticing how quick you’d sat up on the bed, too quick he could see the pain that it had caused you, “Easy there.”

He walked over to your side of the bed, placing the tea on the nightstand before placing a hand on your forehead to check your temperature, “You’re burning up, love.”

“I’m fine, it's just a cold,” you say, although even you don't sound too convinced, “Just need to rest.”

“You're not fine. Here drink this, it'll help with the fever,” he hands you the tea, which you gladly take.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, not quite sure if you’re apologizing for your sickness or that now he is stuck taking care of you and tending to you all day.

“For what?” he smiled softly, pushing a strand of hair away from your hair as you drank your tea, “You have nothing to be sorry for. I love taking care of you.”

“Just try and rest,” he pulled the blankets around your shoulder, making sure you kept warm. He placed a comforting kiss on your forehead, and then one on the corner of your lips

“Remus- you’re going to get sick too if you do that,” you whisper, eyes flicking up to meet his.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head and reaching to kiss your temple, “I’ll be fine. I can handle a bit of sickness from my favorite girl, yeah?”

You smile at his words, placing the mug back on the nightstand, “I love you,” you murmur, your voice soft with drowsiness.

“I love you more, love” he smiles, helping you settle back into the pillows, “Do you need anything else?”

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips, “Just stay with me.”

With that, Remus climbs back into bed next to you. He pulls the duvet over you both, you nestling into him. You close your eyes, the warming presence next you helping you relax your muscles and slowly lulling you back to sleep.

[folkwhoreberry]

who wants to punish me for being stupid for deleting all my drafts and ideas by giving me extra work for the weekend in the shape of requests?✊✊

[little-riddles]

hope | a marauders story

pairing: sirius black x female!potter!reader word count: 3.8k warnings: mentions of illness, references of abuse

the night was painted with shadows, the moon casting a silvery glow over the walls of the potter house. a gentle breeze whispered through the window, carrying with it the sounds of chatter in the streets below. curled up in the bay window sat a y/h/c girl with forest-green eyes who stared longingly at the four boys playing in the large expanse of grass behind their house. she longed to be allowed to play with the boys, to know the joy of having friends that weren't her brother or their pet cat.

"y/n potter, you know you can't have the windows open!" euphemia potter shouted as she rushed to shut the open window and wrap yet another blanket around the frail girl.

"mama, i'm fine." y/n struggled out, her voice only allowing her to speak at a mere whisper.

"you're freezing, y/n." euphemia pulled her daughter into her arms, feeling the cold radiating through the many layers of blankets covering her. "you're never going to get better if you keep trying to make yourself more sick."

"but i just wanna go outside and play with the boys for a bit. five minutes, that's all i want." y/n tried to beg her mother, already feeling exhausted from just the movement of walking back to sit on her bed.

"you can play with the boys if they come back inside before they leave. i can't have you outside in that cold. i'm sorry, darling." euphemia pressed a kiss to her daughter's temple, before walking back out of the room and shutting the door behind her.

y/n sighed falling back into her duvet. she couldn't understand why no one would allow her to have fun with her brother's friends as well. why she's locked away in her room whenever they come over during the winter holiday? her mother said it was for her own good and health, but she just felt like a freak in her mother's eyes. like she was something her parents were ashamed of.

for as long as she could remember, y/n potter had been sick. she has spent longer in st. mungo's than she has in her own home. her parents had spent years trying to find answers to her mysterious illness, going as far as travelling over to the americas to visit a well-known healer who was said to have the answers to her illness. but as with all of their other endeavors, they came up empty-handed and with even more questions than answers.

her health had become so deteriorated in the past year that she had to forgo attending hogwarts at the same time as her twin brother, james. her parents had hired a local wizard tutor to home-school her until she would be able to attend hogwarts herself, something that seemed less and less likely the further into winter y/n got.

"y/n! the boys are going in five minutes if you wanna come and meet them!" james' voice carried from the front room into her bedroom, alerting her to the appearance of the boys from the garden.

y/n could hear her mother berating her brother for shouting in the house and to go and help his sister down from her room if she was going to meet his friends. she pulled herself out of the bed, making her way over the door with the blankets her mother had wrapped around her cradling her.

"y/n/n, come on." james burst through her door, grabbing her thin wrist in his arms and already making his way down the hallway. "you're going to love them."

"jamie, jamie slow down. i can't walk that fast." y/n rasped out, her brother coming to a complete halt as he realised, in his excitement, that he'd completely forgotten how ill his sister had gotten in the short four months he was away.

"oh, y/n/n. i'm so sorry. i was just so excited for you to meet them that i completely forgot." james pulled his sister in for a hug, continuing their walk down the stairs but at a much-reduced speed. "i've told them so much about you, you have nothing to worry about."

"exactly how much?" y/n looked at her brother in suspicion, knowing exactly what stories he would love to share with his friends.

"just the good things. mostly." james winked, pushing the door to the living room open to reveal their parents talking to the three small boys. "guys, this is my sister, y/n."

"it's nice to meet you." y/n tried to speak at her top volume, already feeling her throat drying up and in pain from the few words spoken.

"i'm remus lupin, nice to meet you." the sandy-haired boy with scars across his arms and legs smiled as he looked anywhere but her eyes.

"nice to meet you, remus." y/n smiled back, sitting down between her parents who both wrapped yet another blanket that was thrown over the back of the sofa.

"i'm p-peter pett-tigrew." the smallest of the three bowed his head slightly as he greeted the girl.

"and i'm sirius black." the black-haired boy sitting on the armrest of the sofa said with a charming smirk. "what's with all the blankets?"

"sirius!" remus smacked the boy around the head. "you can't just ask questions like that."

"it's okay, remus." y/n smiled, reassuring the boys. "i'm sick. have been for as long as i can remember and the cold makes me much worse than i already am. we've tried everything but have no answers to how I can get better."

"i'm sorry." sirius sounded genuinely sincere as he bowed his head slightly.

"have you tried muggle doctors?" remus asked in a light voice, earning silence as the purebloods of the room looked at him puzzled.

"why in merlin's name would we go to muggles for help?" fleamont asked in disbelief.

"it sounds like a muggle disease that my grandmother had before she died." remus fiddles with his hands. "they can give y/n a medicine that will help heal her back up to full health."

"how would we be able to get this medicine?" euphemia placed a calming hand on her husband's arm.

"my mum can help you get in contact with a doctor who can help heal y/n." remus smiled, looking down at the watch as he noticed it was past his curfew already.

"oh, would you look at the time."fleamont announced as he stood to face the grandfather clock. "well, best be off boys. don't want to be on the end of another howler from your mothers."

the boys smirked to themselves, remembering the howler that was opened during dinner one evening after they were caught messing with the nifflers in the garden. one of them had to be magically lifted out of the tree that the boys had scared it into, a feat that y/n had watched sadly from the window, having forged a strong bond with the runt of the niffler's litter over her time kept at home.

"thank you for having us, mrs potter, mr potter." remus bowed his head slightly as he pulled his jacket out from behind the sofa. "i hope we will be able to come back during the spring break as well?"

"of course, my dears. you're welcome here anytime. even you, sirius." mr Potter smiled knowingly at the raven-haired boy, having attended hogwarts at the same time as some of his family and knowing the legacy his family had left behind for him.

"thank you, sir." sirius seemed shy for the first time in the short while that y/n had met him, clearly not used to such generosity. his reaction made the girl wonder what terrible upbringing could've caused such reactions to such a small gesture.

y/n's eyes wandered to the small, meek boy who was still trapped within the many cushions of the red sofa. his hands were held close to his chest as though he was scared to touch anything around him. His thin, mousy hair clung to his scalp, and his anxious, darting eyes seemed to constantly search for an escape route.  his lips were turned down in a deep frown, spreading all the way up to his brows, creating a crease down the centre of his forehead.

y/n couldn't help but feel the unease that seemed to radiate from him, as an aura of vulnerability marked him apart from the other boys, who each exuded a sort of confidence in the few interactions she had observed from them.

"are you okay, peter?" y/n asked in a hushed tone, bringing the movement of the other boys to a halt.

"you alright, pete?" james approached his friend, worried by the scared look that grew rapidly on his friend's face as he grew nearer.

"i may have broken a mug." peter mumbled, pulling the shards from the pocket of his coat he had yet to take off since he arrived many hours before.

"oh, that's fine, my dear. we have tons of them." euphemia waved her hands, snapping her fingers and calling for one of the house elves. "ribly! come here this instant!"

y/n had always hated how her parents treated the house elves that served them, often overhearing and occasionally witnessing the 'punishments' they would endure for the smallest of mistakes.

ribly appeared in the living room with a crack, already hurrying over to peter with a broom to collect any shards that had escaped his grasp.

"ribly will clean it up, mr peter. ribly will fix it, ms potter." the small house-elf was quick to sweep up the few remains on the ground, only stumbling a few times in her haste, before disapparating out of the room as quickly as she had entered it.

"don't mind her. she likes to be efficient." mr potter chuckled to himself, brushing off the looks each of the children were giving him and his wife. "well, why don't you all go through the fireplace? will be much easier than taking the muggle route home. especially for you, sirius."

y/n watched as sirius gulped at the thought of home, cementing in her mind that he didn't have a happy home outside of Hogwarts.

"again, thank you for having us. it was nice to meet you, y/n. i do hope to see you again." remus smiled timidly once more, hugging james briefly before he walked into the fireplace and disappeared in a green flame with a mumble of his home.

"t-thank you." peter scrambled to follow him, almost forgetting to grab a handful of floo powder before he too disappeared into the ashes.

a beat passed before y/n returned her eyes to an even more anxious and fidgeting sirius.

"mate, we'll see each other in a few weeks. you can't miss me that much whilst you're gone." james patted his best friend on the shoulder, not quite getting the truth behind his apprehension.

"yeah." sirius chuckled dryly to himself. "yeah. i'll see you after christmas, james."

sirius pulled the bespectacled boy into a tight hug, before glancing over at the small girl still squashed against her mother on the sofa. her green eyes held a knowing twinkle in them that hadn't been there before, a sympathetic smile gracing her lips.

"it was nice to meet you, y/n/n." sirius winked, stealing the nickname he had previously heard james calling her. "and thank you, mrs potter again for having us. oh. and do give my thanks to ribly for the tea, i'm sure she deserves it."

euphemia opened and closed her mouth in disbelief, not quite knowing how to respond to the cheek of the boy. y/n stiffled a giggle as she remembered hearing her mother glowing in the praise from the boys over how quickly she had put together tea and biscuits for them when they came inside the house.

"i'll be sure to write to you all about our adventures at hogwarts, y/n/n. Now I know you're real and not this git's imaginary best friend." sirius winked once last time before disappearing into a cloud of green.

silence fell over the potters as the twins tried not to laugh at their mother's shocked expression and how their father was frozen in his spot staring into the fireplace.

"well, i'm not sure who raised that boy but they certainly need a clip round the ear for the cheek he was giving me." euphemia scoffed, brushing off her skirt as she stood to exit the room.

"well, i for one, love them all." y/n grinned, already excited at the prospect of possibly being healed of her illness. "can we do what remus said, father? can we go see the muggle healer?"

fleamont only scoffed, walking out into the gardens with a slam of the door behind him.

"don't worry. i'll convince him. or more likely, i'll annoy him into agreeing." james winked at his sister, moving to help her back up the stairs and into her bedroom.

"and if that doesn't work?" y/n coughed as she finished her sentence.

"oh, it'll work." he only smirked, closing the door behind him after he settled her into the plush duvet and multitude of pillows.

y/n bounced on her toes as she stretched over the crowds to catch a glimpse of the train pulling into the platform. her parents and her brother's friend's parents surrounded her in much less excited states, mrs lupin and ms pettigrew having a conversation about the odd letter they'd received from professor mcgonagall about an incident involving a toilet seat being stolen from one of the bathrooms.

"y/n, settle down. You're going to waste all your energy before the train even arrives." fleamont placed his hands firmly on his daughter's shoulders, stopping her in her place.

"but, father. jamie's nearly here, he doesn't even know i'm better yet. i just can't wait for him to see me." y/n grinned up at her father, their identical eyes staring into one another.

"and you'll be able to see him when he arrives, so long as you calm down." fleamont pressed harder on her shoulder, actually pushing her shoulders further into her back.

"yes, dad." y/n stopped her peering, instead staring behind her shoulder at the small crowd of blondes that had entered through the barrier only moments before.

the group of witches and wizards bared a likeness to one another besides their matching light-coloured hair, two of the girls having matching smirks as they ran ahead of their parents. the mother of the group struggled to catch up with the girls, giving up as she lost them to the masses of parents and children. the pair stumbled out from the crowd beside the potters, too peering over the crowds to catch a glimpse of the train approaching. they soon gave up as they realised they wouldn't be able to see over the masses of parents already pushing to reach the doors of the carriages. as they turned back to find their parents, the taller of the two locked eyes with y/n with a grin.

"it's no use trying. i've already been elbowed by more vicious mothers than i can count." y/n rubbed her arms where the feeling of their bony elbows remained.

"are you waiting for your brother or sister too?" the shorter twin grinned, happy to have found someone who looked to be their age.

"my twin brother." y/n grinned.

"twin?" the taller twin shared a glance with her sister. "why aren't you there with him?"

"i was ill." y/n could already see the pity filling their once cheerful faces. "b-but i'll be starting in september. dumbledore sent me the letter just this morning."

"so will we!" the twins said in a creepily matching tone.

"holly! heather!" a stern voice broke their conversation. "you can't just run off like that."

"oh, it's okay. they've just been here with us, avery. no need to fret." y/n's mother turned to the commotion, clearly recognising the man from her time at hogwarts.

"euphemia." the blonde man nodded his head once, before ushering the girls back to where their mother was sternly watching from afar. "come now, girls. don't want to disturb the potters after all."

"bye!" the shorter twin shouted.

"see you in september!" the other shouted after her before the trio were lost in the crowds.

"mum, who was that?" y/n turned to her mother, who was still staring off with a far-off look in her eyes.

"charlus avery. he was in my year at hogwarts." her mother brushed off the questions that were lingering on the tip of her daughter's tongue. "now, why don't we go find the boys?"

"but-" she couldn't finish her sentence before she was distracted by the familiar brunette head of her brother exiting the train carriage.

before her mother could stop her, y/n was off. she pushed past the vicious mothers from before, who glowered in her path and even pushed a few older hogwarts students out of the way all in her attempt to reach her twin. but her mind was flooded with guilt and gratitude towards the sandy-haired boy who was being rough-housed off of the train by sirius.

"remus!" y/n ran towards the boy as he stepped off of the hogwarts express, wrangling him into a  hug and completely ignoring her brother and his other friends.

"wow. no hello, not even a smile. some sister you are." james grumbled, not looking at the girl as he helped pettigrew carry the large cage of his cat off of the train.

y/n glared at her brother over remus' shoulder, not even giving him a taunt back, before she pulled back and grasped the boy's shoulders tightly. "thank you so much. i don't know what i would've done without you."

"i-i'm sorry?" remus stood in shock, not quite believing the once-sick girl in front of him was almost glowing as she bounced in place.

"we visited the muggle doctor like you suggested and they were able to heal me." y/n giggled, finally seeing her brother standing beside the sandy-haired boy. "jamie!"

"y/n/n? oh my god. you look so healthy." james squeezed his sister tight to his chest, burying his head in her shoulder to hide the tears pouring out of his eyes.

"boys! hurry and help mr potter with the bags!" mrs lupin shouted, waving them over to where mr potter was lugging the bags over to a large pile by their parents.

"sorry, dad!" james ran over to help his dad carry the remaining bags over to the group.

"so, no more blanket forts then?" a cockier than usual voice approached behind y/n.

"well, i can't spend my days at hogwarts in a bundle of blankets now can I?" y/n grinned as both sirius and peter stumbled behind her, trying to catch up with the newly speedy girl.

"y-you're coming to h-hogwarts?" peter stuttered out.

"yep. got my letter this morning. dumbledore must have been eager." y/n skipped her way back to her parents, curling into her mother's side who stared down at her with a fondness in her eyes that james had only seen a few times.

"it's so odd seeing her that.. energetic." james tilted his head to the side, not quite believing that it was indeed his little sister beaming up at their mother at the train platform.

"well, i for one, love it." sirius grinned, chasing after the girl to meet up with his friend's parents.

"remus, has she always had that small furry thing on her shoulder or have i gone insane?" peter leant up to the taller boy's ear, pointing at the creature that seemed to burrowing itself into her neck.

remus could only shake his head before he too was trailing after the girl, staring at the creature that was pulling the golden necklace from y/n's neck.

"y/n!" remus raced forward, pointing at the now-identified niffler. "you've got a niffler! it's stealing your necklace!"

y/n barely blinked as she stared down at the grey-bodied creature staring up at her as if it had been caught red-handed in a robbery.

"oh, jamie. what are you doing here?" y/n merely pulled the niffler out of her hair and tucked him into the inside pocket of her coat.

"i'm coming back from hogwarts?" james asked in question as he turned away from their father.

"oh, not you jamie. jamie junior." y/n proudly presented the niffler to her brother as he was stashing their mother's wedding ring into his pouch.

"that little rat. i knew i didn't lose my ring." euphemia glared at her sheepish husband who had blamed her for the act that morning.

"sorry, mum. jamie just likes shiny things, and your ring is the shiniest thing in the house besides my necklace."y/n pouted, upset that her newfound friend had been the cause of the argument between her parents that morning.

"it's okay, dear. i'll just have to charm it so that it doesn't get stolen again." she said in a manner that she usually used to scold her children.

"but why jamie?" james was still confused, staring into the black eyes of the creature that had stolen his namesake.

"well, uh." y/n was embarrassed to reveal the truth of jamie's name in front of her brother's friends. "i didn't have you at home anymore, so i um. i have my own jamie to replace you when you're not there."

james' confusion quickly turned to smugness at his sister's revelation.

"you missed me!" james pulled his sister into a headlock. "you missed me and couldn't wait for me to get back."

"oh, shut up." y/n blushed as she pushed her brother's arms away from her.

"ain't got to miss him for too long, love." sirius gestured, nudging the girl.

"what does he mean, y/n/n?" james asked, glossing over the nickname entirely.

"dumbledore sent me my letter this morning. i start at hogwarts in september." y/n glowed as she thought of finally being able to attend classes with other kids her age instead of by herself with mrs. flemming and mr. nilsen.

james couldn't fight the grin that broke out across his face as he leapt to pull his sister into a tight embrace. y/n's slight frame was swallowed by james's. she buried her face in his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of their father's aftershave he had stolen.

james' gentle laughter filled the quietness as he squeezed her tightly. "i missed you so much, y/n/n," he whispered in her ear.

tears welled up in y/n's eyes as she replied, her voice muffled against his shoulder, "i missed you too, jamie."

they held onto each other for what felt like an eternity, the bond between siblings stronger than ever.

"are you two done?" peter squeaked from behind them. "jamie junior has stolen all of my mum's jewellery and i think she's finally noticed."

"oh, merlin. i love your niffler, y/n/n." sirius laughed, watching as the pureblood woman began to flit about the station chasing after the tiny creature as it raced away towards the freedom that was the barrier to the station.

"yeah, he's definitely gonna be a handful at hogwarts." y/n grinned, unbeknownst to the chaos such a decision was going to cause her.

[roselilies]

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she can date whoever she wants to, i don't care.

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James and you still aren't on talking terms, he avoids you, never gets too close to you, yet complains to everyone when he sees you get close to your new charms partner.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever), r is a gryffindor lol, this is lowkey super short… 2.1k words, the next chapter will be better...trust

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

It had been weeks. Weeks since James had last spoken to you, the last time you had talked was in december, now you're almost two weeks into february, and the rift between you only seemed to grow wider. At first, he told himself he was giving you space. He thought that if he stayed back, you’d eventually come to him, and things would go back to normal. But that wasn’t what happened.

Every time James worked up the courage to approach you, it was the same thing: you were with him.

Finn Laurier.

James hated how the name left a sour taste in his mouth. Finn wasn’t a bad guy—he was charming, clever, and polite. Too polite, in James’s opinion. Finn Laurier was completely different from James, and that only made the knot of insecurity and jealousy in James’s chest tighten.

While James was loud and brash, Finn had an easygoing, quiet confidence about him. Where James was all about grand gestures and bold declarations, Finn had a knack for subtlety and knowing the right thing to say at the right time. It didn’t help that Finn had somehow managed to claim the spot James had always held at your side, and you didn’t seem to mind.

From across the common room, James watched as Finn leaned in closer to you, gesturing animatedly as he spoke. You laughed at something he said, the sound tugging at James’s heart in a way that made him feel like an idiot.

He slumped back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. “What does she even see in him?” he muttered under his breath.

Sirius, sprawled out beside him, didn’t bother to hide his amusement. “You mean aside from the fact that he’s good-looking, smart, and doesn’t look like he’s been moping for weeks?”

James glared at him. “I’m not moping.”

“Sure, you’re not,” Sirius drawled. “That’s why you’ve been staring at them for the past ten minutes like you’re about to hex him.”

“I’m not going to hex him,” James grumbled. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“That’s very mature of you, Prongs,” Remus chimed in from his corner, not looking up from his book. “But maybe instead of glaring at him, you should focus on fixing things with her.”

“Yeah, because that’s gone so well for me so far,” James shot back bitterly.

“Have you even tried?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow.

James opened his mouth to respond but hesitated. The truth was, he had tried—at least, he thought he had. But every time he saw you, Finn was there, making you laugh, leaning just a little too close. And every time, James felt like his chances were slipping further and further away.

Meanwhile, you were doing your best to ignore the knot of confusion and hurt that James’s behavior had left behind. You weren’t blind to the way he’d been avoiding you, or how he seemed to retreat every time you so much as glanced in his direction.

Finn had been a welcome distraction. He was kind, easy to talk to, and, most importantly, he didn’t make you feel like you’d done something wrong. But even as you laughed at his jokes and listened to his stories, you couldn’t shake the feeling of James’s eyes on you from across the room.

“Everything okay?” Finn asked, his voice cutting through your thoughts.

You blinked, startled. “What?”

“You’ve been quiet all of a sudden,” Finn said, tilting his head slightly. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, you’re fine,” you said quickly, offering him a small smile. “I just… I guess I’m a little distracted.”

Finn nodded, his expression understanding. “Fair enough. If you ever want to talk about it…”

“Thanks, Finn,” you said softly, though your gaze drifted back toward James.

He was still sitting on the couch with Sirius, looking like he was caught between frustration and defeat. When your eyes met for the briefest of moments, he quickly looked away, running a hand through his already messy hair.

You sighed, your chest tightening. Whatever had happened between you and James, it felt bigger than anything you could fix with a simple conversation. But you weren’t sure how much longer you could handle this silent stalemate.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

It was now James’s second least favorite day—Valentine’s Day. His least favorite day was still the one he’d sat in Charms class and watched you laugh with Finn Laurier for the first time. That moment had burned itself into his memory, playing on a cruel loop every time he closed his eyes.

But this… this was a close second.

If you had told James back in December that he’d be avoiding you on Valentine’s Day instead of spending it as a happy, loved-up couple, he would have called you mad. Back then, he’d been so sure of himself. So sure that his letter, his heartfelt, trembling confession, would be the thing that finally made you see him as more than just James Potter, your goofy best friend.

And yet, here he was, slouched in a chair in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by heart-shaped confetti that refused to disappear no matter how many times he swatted it away. The house elves had really outdone themselves this year—floating cupid decorations zipped around the room, shooting glittering pink arrows into the air. James glared at one that came a little too close, muttering something about “bloody overkill.”

“I hate this,” he grumbled, crossing his arms and sinking lower into his chair.

“Well, don’t be sulking for the whole day,” Sirius said, perched on the arm of the couch nearby. His tone was a mix of amusement and exasperation, his gray eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’re all supposed to go to The Three Broomsticks soon, remember?”

James let out another unintelligible grumble, something that sounded suspiciously like “don’t want to,” though the exact words were lost in his sulk.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Come on, mate, this is getting ridiculous. You’ve been moping around for weeks.”

“I’m not moping,” James shot back, though the words lacked any real conviction.

“You’re literally the definition of moping,” Sirius said, smirking. “You’re sitting here, arms crossed, glaring at a cupid like it personally insulted your family.”

“I don’t want to go to The Three Broomsticks,” James muttered.

“And why not?” Sirius pressed, though James could tell from his tone that he already knew the answer.

James sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Because she might be there,” he admitted quietly.

“She, as in you-know-who?” Sirius teased, though his smirk softened slightly when he saw the genuine frustration on James’s face. “Look, Prongs, you can’t avoid her forever. It’s a small castle. You’re bound to run into her eventually.”

“I know that,” James said, his voice tight. “But I just… I can’t deal with seeing her with him today, alright? Not on bloody Valentine’s Day.”

Sirius leaned back, crossing his arms. “You’re assuming she’s spending the day with Finn, but has she actually told you that?”

James hesitated. “No,” he admitted reluctantly. “But why wouldn’t she? He’s—he’s Finn Laurier, for Merlin’s sake. He’s perfect. Why wouldn’t she spend Valentine’s Day with him?”

“You’re an idiot,” Sirius said matter-of-factly.

James blinked, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Sirius said, standing up and stretching, “that instead of sitting here feeling sorry for yourself, you could actually try talking to her. Maybe, just maybe, things aren’t as hopeless as you think.”

James stared at him, his heart hammering in his chest. The idea of approaching you now, after everything, felt like standing at the edge of a cliff. But Sirius’s words planted a small, stubborn seed of hope in his mind.

“Fine,” James muttered, standing up. “But if this goes horribly wrong, I’m hexing you.”

Sirius grinned. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

As James followed Sirius out of the common room, his mind raced with a hundred different scenarios. He wasn’t sure what he’d say if he saw you—or if he even had the courage to say anything at all. But one thing was certain: he couldn’t keep hiding forever. But it looks like the odds were not in his favor–he felt like his world was crumbling. He knew he shouldn't have listened to Sirius, it just made things worse. You had said yes to being Finn’s valentine–and worst of all, who asks a girl out on valentine's day?

James scoffed, his sadness shifting into a simmering anger. He quickly left the scene, Sirius trailed behind him, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace.

“Slow down, Prongs!” Sirius called.

James didn’t respond, only slowing when they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. He paused there, allowing Sirius to catch up before muttering the password under his breath. As the portrait swung open, James turned to his friend with a scowl.

“I’m never listening to you again.”

“Oh, come on,” Sirius protested, throwing up his hands. “How was I supposed to know Laurier would swoop in right then and there?”

Inside the common room, Remus and Peter exchanged curious glances.

“What happened?” Remus asked, his tone cautious.

“She was right there,” James burst out, his voice rising with frustration. “And so was Laurier. He asked her out! They didn’t even see me—or Sirius, thankfully—but still!” He threw himself into an armchair, running a hand through his already messy hair.

The others stayed silent, unsure how to comfort him.

After an awkward three minutes, Peter cleared his throat and attempted to lighten the mood. “Why don’t we head to the Three Broomsticks? A bit of butterbeer might help take your mind off things.”

For a moment, James said nothing. Then, as if possessed by some newfound resolve, he stood abruptly.

“You know what? You’re right,” he said, surprising everyone. “If she can be completely unbothered after I confessed my undying love for her, then ignore me, and worst of all—start dating some tosser who’s the polar opposite of me—then fine. I’ll move on too. Starting now. Let’s go.”

The other Marauders stared at him, dumbfounded. This wasn’t the James they knew—the James who would spend hours pestering Sirius about why you hadn’t replied to his letters, the James who badgered Remus for details about your every interaction, the James who constantly begged Peter for updates about you in the classes you shared.

It was as if the James Potter they knew had been replaced by someone else entirely.

The streets of Hogsmeade were blanketed with snow, the cold biting at their cheeks as the Marauders made their way to the Three Broomsticks. James led the group, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his jaw set tight. He was unusually quiet, his normal easy going demeanor replaced with something sharper, more defensive.

Sirius tried to break the silence first. “Prongs, mate, you know she didn’t do it to hurt you, right? She probably didn’t even know how you felt.”

James let out a sharp laugh, his breath clouding in the cold air. “She didn’t know? Oh, she knew. I wrote her a bloody letter, Padfoot. I poured my heart out. If she didn’t get the hint, then she’s thicker than I thought—and she’s not thick.”

Sirius grimaced, clearly regretting his choice of words. “Alright, alright, bad point. But still, Laurier? The guy’s got the personality of a Flobberworm.”

“Doesn’t matter,” James muttered. “Apparently, she likes Flobberworms.”

Peter, trying to ease the tension, piped up, “Well, maybe Laurier’s just a rebound, you know? She’ll realize what a tosser he is soon enough.”

Remus shot Peter a warning look, but James seemed too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice.

“Rebound from what?” James muttered. “She’s never been with anyone to rebound from.”

They reached the Three Broomsticks, the warm glow from inside spilling out onto the snow-covered street. The group filed in, quickly finding a table in the back corner. The usual bustling energy of the pub seemed muted to James, his mind too occupied with replaying the moment he’d seen you say yes to Finn Laurier.

A round of butterbeers arrived at the table, and Sirius pushed a tankard in front of James. “Alright, here’s the plan,” Sirius said, leaning forward. “We’re going to have a laugh, you’re going to forget about Laurier, and tomorrow, you’ll go back to being your annoying, charming self. Sounds good?”

James took a long sip of his butterbeer, the warm liquid doing little to ease the ache in his chest. “Yeah, sure. Forget about her. Easy.”

“James,” Remus said gently, “it’s okay to be upset. You don’t have to act like it doesn’t bother you.”

“I’m not acting,” James snapped, though his tone softened almost immediately. “I’m fine. Really.”

Sirius exchanged a glance with Remus, both of them unconvinced.

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[mcntsee]

me when I reach the angst part of the angsty fic that I specifically chose for the angst

[yawneon]

how i look at my screen after y/n just got called kitten/puppy/bunny

[l0velysmut]

family: “why are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?”

me who’s been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours:

[colmiillo]

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

[thatboisus]

“english isn’t my first langua—“ say no more.

[actually-mentally-ill]