#Harry Potter x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

agreeeeeeeeeee · 1 day ago

Text

House Party | Drarry

feat. Draco Malfoy x roommate!reader x Harry Potter

summary: all your friends come over for dinner party at your shared flat. little do they know, you've been fucking your roommates in secret for weeks. when one of them makes a move on you, your boys decide to remind you who you belong to.

cw: MDNI 18+, smut, spit roasting, mfm, praise kink, switch!Harry, dom!draco, drinking, smoking, fluff, guyliner, Draco's a slut

an: I just passed 2,000 followers!! I love you all so much and I'm so grateful for the community I've found here. and what better way to celebrate than with our two favorite boys??

more drarry!roommate au | masterlist | requests open

Crossed legged on your vanity stool, you set down your blush and accessed your reflection. Too pink? Not enough?

“Looks gorgeous, baby.” A voice interrupted your pondering, low and sweetened with affection—Harry.

“It's not too much?” You asked, turning to look at him. He was leaned against the doorway, a pink wine cooler in his hand, already dressed for the party starting in over an hour. A white t-shirt, undone flannel, and light wash jeans, black hair messy and a little overgrown.

He had no business looking so effortlessly hot all the time.

“Definitely not too much.” He pushed off the door jam and crossed the room to you, setting the drink on the vanity for you. “Your makeup always looks perfect,” he said, tilting your chin up to get a closer look, his fingers cold from the bottle. “I like the, uh—the pink stuff.” He tapped the apple of your cheek gently with his pointer finger.

“Blusher,” you supplied. “And you only think that because you don't know anything about makeup,” you argued, despite the smile tugging at your lips.

“I know that you’ve looked beautiful every second of every day that I've known you, and that has to count for something—”

You swatted his broad chest, rolling your eyes and turning back to your makeup. “You're so full of it,” you laughed.

Grinning, he flopped onto your freshly made mattress, an arm folded behind his head, bulging bicep on full display. “You're about to be full of it—”

“Harry!” You scolded, tossing a brush at him.

He caught it without looking, spinning it around his fingers with a cheeky smirk. “What can I say? You bring it out in me.”

Another eye roll. You take a swig of your drink and grab your eyeliner, bracing your elbows on the table. You can feel Harry watching with abject horror when you paint your waterline. He gasped dramatically when you make a quick flick, resulting in a crooked, lightly smudged wing.

“Shit. Harry!” You huffed.

“I didn't do anything!” He laughed. “You're the one about to stab your eye out—”

“I am not! You're distracting me!—”

Something mischievous glinted in his green eyes. “Oh, you think that's distracting?” Harry hooked his foot under your stool, jerking you back towards the bed.

“Hey!”

“What are you children going on about?” Draco appeared in the doorway, half-dressed in trousers and a sleeveless undershirt.

“Harry made me mess up my eyeliner,” you scowled, turning back to the mirror. You attempted the wing again, only for it to skip and pull a little too long.

“He did?” Draco tsked, casting Harry an authoritative glare as he strode towards you, his equine legs taking him across the room in a few unhurried strides.

“I did not!” Harry argued. “I'm just sitting here, minding my own business—”

“Saints sake!” You cursed, pouting at yet another failed wing attempt.

“Do you need help, darling?” Draco asked, gently taking the eyeliner from your fingers.

“You can do eyeliner?” You asked, brows lifting.

He smirked, long fingers reaching out to grasp your jaw and tilt your head back. “Why so surprised?”

“Because you don't wear eyeliner?”

“My father taught me when I was kid,” he clarified. “It's something he does for my mom all time. Close your eyes, love.”

You were speechless, shocked that Lucius Malfoy not only willingly did his wife's makeup for her, but cared enough to teach Draco how to do it too. Something fluttery bloomed in your chest; Draco was doing it for you. Even Harry had fallen silent, watching with rapt attention.

This is how things were between the three of you—from silly friends one moment, to almost saccharine domestic sweetness another, then near-debilitating lust. Sexual tension so taught, you feared it would throttle you.

It was confusing, exhilarating, and deeply complicated. But it was worth it to have even a small piece of them.

Your closed your eyes, breath hitching when his grip tightened a fraction on your jaw, holding you steady.

“Breathe,” he instructed, his voice coming from much closer now, tinged with spearmint, and you loosed a shaky exhale. “Good girl. Now hold still for me.”

Your heartrate accelerated, thrumming eagerly under your skin. It was staggering how quickly he could send you reeling.

So light it almost tickled, Draco swiped a smooth arch above your upper lashes, flicking just a bit at the edges. With his thumb nail, he sharpened it to a point. An expert maneuver that had your belly somersaulting. He repeated the motions on the other eye, his hand delicate on your face so as not to disturb your other makeup.

“Open your eyes at take a look,” he murmured, and you obeyed, blinking up at him. Merlin, he's gorgeous. With his regal bone structure and those bewitching blue eyes. He smiled at you, catching your lingering stare, and leaned down to peck your lips. “Look at yourself, love, not me.”

You turned, eyes immediately snagging on yourself, and the sultry, flawless eyeliner he'd bestowed up on you.

“How the hell are you so good at that?” You asked, leaning in to get a closer look.

Harry got up and leaned over you, making an appreciate oooh. “Damn, Malfoy. If Auror-ing fails, you've got a back up career as a makeup artist,” he said, smiling over the blond.

Draco chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear while he admired his hand work. “Happy to help.”

“Your turn!” You whirled around and tackled Draco onto your bed, eyeliner lofted high.

He caught your wrist, grip tight enough to immobilize your arm, but not enough to hurt. He tsked, shaking his head at you. “Gonna have to be quicker than that, pet,” he chided, amusement glittering in his eyes.

“Oh, come on,” you whined, spreading your knees to lower yourself fully onto his lap. “Please?” You fluttered your lashes, tilting your hips just slightly to press against the growing ridge in his pants. He swallowed hard, eyes flitting down to where your bodies touched.

Harry snickered. “You're not playing fair, lovely,” he hummed, plucking the eyeliner from your fingers.

“But he would look so hot,” you argued, and Draco scoffed, releasing your wrist and resting his hands on your thighs.

Harry contemplated this, tapping his chin with the eyeliner. “That's a fair point.” And he handed you the eyeliner back.

“I don't get a say in this?” Draco huffed.

“Nope, you can wash it off after if you don't like it,” you chirped, uncapping it with your teeth and leaning down towards him.

“You know, it's unsanitary to share eye makeup—”

“Quiet, unless you want me to poke out your eyeball. Look up for me,” you ordered in your best Draco impression, and Harry laughed again.

Draco rolled his eyes, but did as he was told.

“Good boy,” you purred, and you felt his cock surge beneath you, Adam’s Apple bombing in his throat.

You drew a short line just under his lower lashes, barely more than a dot of product, and smudged it out with your pinky. Just enough to give him a little bit of a shadow.

When you pulled back, his eyes flicked back down to you, blinking away the little bit of water the collected. Your breath hitched in your lungs. His eyes looked almost silver, brighter than you'd ever seen them with that little bit of extra contrast.

“That's not fair,” Harry whined. “How can he get hotter?”

You set the eyeliner down, grinning triumphantly, until Draco bucked you off, flipping your bodies around before you'd even registered you were moving.

“And what do you think?” He asked, voice low and vaguely threatening.

Your brain short-circuited, completely mesmerized by his eyes. “I, uh—”

Draco smirked. “Not so bold now, are we?” He teased, leaning down to place a singular, open-mouthed kiss to your neck before pushing himself up, releasing you from his hold. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to finish getting ready.” He turned, pausing to pass a smoothing hand through Harry's hair before exiting your bedroom.

“It's not fair,” Harry grumbled, scratching his head where Draco just touched.

“You're gorgeous too,” you said, wrapping your arms around his middle. “You want some blusher?”

He barked a laugh, carding his fingers through your hair to tilt your head back to steal a kiss himself. “I’d hate to steal his thunder,” he joked, lowering his voice.

You giggled, pinching his cheek before pressing a kiss to it. “Natural blush, then?”

“Fiiine,” he smiled, pulling you up to standing. “Anything for you.”

You finished getting ready and joined Harry out in the living room, setting up the snacks and ambiance, getting the final details in order before your friends arrived.

You leaned over the counter, adjusting the candles at the center, when a heavy weight pressed against your back. Hands trailing up the fronts of your thighs, sliding under the hem as they pulled you closer.

“Sorry, lovely,” Harry purred, nosing into the back of your neck. “Couldn't resist.”

You could feel why against the fat of your ass, his cock throbbing eagerly under his jeans.

“They'll be here any minute,” you giggled, arching your back to press against him.

He groaned, calloused hands tightening around your fleshy thighs. “We'll cancel.”

“And eat all the snacks ourselves?” A breathy sigh stuttered from your throat when he rocked against you.

“Yeah, yeah—” he rasped, mouthing at the top of your spine. “Will need to refuel for round two—”

“You two are insatiable.” Draco’s accusatory voice cut through your haze like a lance.

Harry didn't relent, straightening. “Can you blame me?” Harry chuckled, his hands smoothing down the curve of your spine, the flare of your hips.

Draco hummed, and you turned your head to look at him. And oh, did he look good. Black fitted t-shirt tucked into his slightly baggy trousers, a patent leather belt cinching in that slutty little waist, silver rings on his fingers and chain around his neck. His eyes practically glowed from the eyeliner, giving him just that little bit of an edge, almost Bowie-like.

You extended a hand out to him, making a grabby motion, and he smirked.

“I have to admit, the eyeliner is growing on me,” he said, gently taking your hand and brushing a kiss along your knuckles. “But still, we're going to have to work on your manners.” He rotated your arm, bending your elbow to press your hand against your lower back. Harry caught your wrist, pining it down and pressing you harder against the cold granite.

“Seems well behaved to me,” Harry praised, his free hand trailing higher between your legs. “Isn't that right, baby?”

You nodded, thighs trembling as he inched higher, higher—

Knock knock!

Harry jumped back from you and Draco's head snapped up, scowling like someone personally offended him.

You straightened, smoothing your dress and taking a swig of your drink, willing the throbbing between your legs to subside.

“Sorry, love,” Harry said, pecking your cheek before rushing to open the door.

Draco shook his head and stalked over to the bar, uncapping the fire whisky and filling his glass.

“Harry, you will not believe what happened at work today.” Hermione charged in, jumping headfirst into a story about her idiotic supervisor.

Ron trailed in behind her, laden with takeout bags and a twelve pack that Harry helped him unload.

Hermione only paused her story to throw her arms around you, greeting you with one of those bearish hugs she was so good at it. Ron waved from across the island with a shy smile.

“Merlin sakes, Grainger. Do you ever stop talking?” Draco droned, leaning against the island beside you, a teasing smirk on his face.

“Unlike you, I actually have interesting things to say,” she bit back, pulling him down for a hug that he pretended to hate.

The boys ventured out to the fire escape, taking Draco's immaculate pre rolls with them, leaving you and Hermione cozied up on the couch. But it wasn't long before Theo, Blaise, and Pansy arrived.

“Eccola lì!” Theo cried, handing you a gorgeous bouquet of roses and wrapping you up in a big hug. “I’ve missed you, carina,” he cooed, an incorrigible flirt as always.

“Hi, Theo,” you giggled, slipping away to hug the other two before tracking down a vase.

“What the fuck, Nott!” Draco shouted, throwing up the window, a plume of smoke pouring in. “Where are my flowers?”

“Sod off!” Theo shouted back. “Grainger, darling, if I’d known you'd be here, I’d have brought you the most gorgeous—”

“Watch it, Theodore,” Ron chuckled, his eyes already bloodshot, his smile melty. “Get your own bird, yeah?”

“Lo farò,” he purred, winking at you.

“Ignore him,” Pansy laughed, helping you fill the vase with water. “He got rejected this morning at the café, so he's feeling sensitive.”

“Oi!” He yelled over his shoulder as he climbed outside.

Blaise rolled his eyes and peeled away from Pansy’s hip, helping himself to the whiskey and sinking into the couch beside Hermione, launching into questions about her work. Pansy joined the boys on the porch, bringing out a tray of chips to uproarious applause.

Draco climbed back inside after her, swallowing the rest of his whiskey, and joined you in the kitchen, taking the roses from your hands.

“Thorns?” He asked, checking the stems. “I'll take care of it, go get a drink,” he murmured, fingers lingering on your lower back, hidden by the island, before he turned away.

“Thanks, D,” you said, squeezing his shoulder as you slipped past him and out of the kitchen. You grabbed another wine cooler and headed out to the fire escape, earning a trillion of applause yourself.

Harry was perched on the steps, Ron on his left, while Pansy and Theo leaned against the railings. You turned towards Harry, but Theo caught you first, slinging an arm over your shoulder and tugging you into his side.

“Now the parties started,” Theo joked, offering the half-smoked blunt between his fingers.

You couldn't help but glance at Harry, who was watching you from the corner of his eye while chatting about classes that week with Ron.

If you were honest, you wanted a hit from Harry’s joint, preferably directly from his mouth, but you couldn't exactly refuse Theo and go to Harry without letting the cat out of the bag.

But would that be so terrible? You trusted your friends to not leak the news, and hiding what the three of you were was proving harder than you'd anticipated.

Sure, you weren’t a couple, but it was easy to forget what the arrangement actual was when it was just the three of you in the flat, free to express your affection however and whenever you wanted.

Going back to being friends, even if it was just temporary, was leaving your heart a little bruised.

“I'm okay, Theo. Thanks, though,” you said, offering as sweet a smile as you could muster, and Harry visibly relaxed in your periphery.

“Tranquilla,” Theo said, taking a hit himself and relinquishing his hold on you.

As casually as you could, you sidestepped to sit on the steps beneath Harry, his shins at your back, and started chatting with Pansy about her and Blaise’s upcoming nuptials.

A few minutes later, something heavy and warm dropped on your shoulders, wafting a familiar, amber-scented cologne over you. Harry's flannel.

You curled your fingers around the collar, wrapping it tighter around you, and felt like you could breathe for the first time since everyone arrived.

He offered you his blunt, holding it carefully between his fingers so you could hold onto the flannel. The acrid burn filled your lungs, cast a haze over your mind, and you exhaled, letting the smoke carry your racing thoughts to the stars.

"Better stop looking so damn kissable before I do something stupid," he muttered against your ear, a shiver rolling down your spine. Before you could respond, he leaned back against the stairs, slipping back into conversation with Ron like nothing happened.

A few hours passed, traveling back and forth from the fire escape to the living room, but as the evening wore on, it was too cold to sit outside. So everyone crammed into the living room, sprawled out on the couches and cushions tossed onto the floor.

You were stretched out on the floor between Draco and Theo, the latter seeming more interested in you than usual. He'd barely left your side all night, jumping up every time your drink was empty, or you eyeballed a snack for a few extra seconds.

They were reminiscing on their Hogwarts days, swapping stories and laughing. You were a year below them, and had only really known them from afar, so you just listened, and laughed when everyone else did.

“What'd you think of us back then, carina?” Theo asked, bumping his knee against yours.

Draco and Harry perked up a bit.

“I mean…” you trailed off, glancing around the group as heat crawled up your neck. “He’s Harry Potter. We were all a little starstruck.”

Harry flushed, and everyone but Draco laughed.

“And Hermione, I would write down your class schedule to try and copy it so I could be as smart as you—clearly, a failure,” you added, and Hermione blew you a kiss.

“Theo and Blaise, you guys stole my Charms coursework once, so…”

Theo balked, and Blaise snickered.

“I would never do such a thing,” Theo argued, clutching his gold chain like it was a string on pearls.

Immediately, everyone launched into different stories where Theo had done that and worse.

“Alright, alright! Stronzo’s,” he muttered, pouting.

“And Draco,” you said, finally turning towards the sulking blond. Were you really about to admit this out loud? “I had an absolutely debilitating crush on you.”

“Whaaaat?!” Everyone cried, and Draco's scowl lifted to a smirk, something warm blooming in his glacial eyes.

Harry rolled his eyes, slumping back against the couch, but Draco drew your attention back with an arm snaking around your waist.

“Did you?” He cooed, tugging you into his side. “How adorable.”

You shoved him away, giggling, though he didn't let you go far, socked feet still touching. “I was young, and had questionable taste!”

Everyone howled with laughter, and Draco chuckled, though his eyes promised you'd regret those words. And you couldn't wait.

They dove back into conversation, and you slipped away to check your makeup and calm your racing heart.

A soft knock startled you from your vanity, and you turned, expecting Harry or Draco, but were surprised to find Theo leaning against the door jam.

“Didn't mean to scare you, amore,” he said, eyes sweeping over you, openly appreciative.

“Oh, uh—it’s okay. What's up, Theo?” You asked, setting down your powder brush.

“I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner with me this week?” He asked, and your stomach dropped. “I think we'd have a lot of fun,” he added, sensing your hesitation.

“Oh, Theo. I—I’m not really in a ‘dating’ place right now,” you said, fidgeting a bit. “But, I appreciate the offer.”

Theo smiled, though it wasn't exactly friendly. “Still have a crush on Malfoy, hm?”

You narrowed your eyes. “I don't need a reason, Theo,” you bit, crossing your arms over your chest.

He held up his hands. “I know, I know. That's not what I was trying to imply. Mi dispiace. I had a feeling you'd say no, but figured I'd try my luck anyways. Your reasons are your own.”

You nodded stiffly, still a bit perturbed by the interaction.

“But, if you do still have a crush on Malfoy—”

“What’s that, Nott?” Draco suddenly appeared over Theo's shoulder, expression dark as a burgeoning storm.

Theo glanced at him, then back to you, still wearing the mischievous smirk. Apparently oblivious to the trap he'd stepped in. “Buona fortuna, carina,” he said, lifted like a farewell, and stepped back into the hall, leaving Malfoy fuming by your door.

“Draco—”

“He asked you out?” Draco asked, leveling you with those piercing eyes.

“And I turned him down,” you retorted, irritation flaring at the possessive way he was acting.

He was the one that suggested this arrangement, wasn't he? He made his bed. You weren't his. Not officially.

Something in your tone broke through the fog of war, and his expression softened.

“Can't say I blame the poor sod,” he said after a moment, eyes drifting down your body. “But I can say that I don't feel all that bad for him.”

You shook your head, walking towards the door to head back to the party. “Try not to look so smug,” you teased, pecking his cheek as you passed by him.

But his arm shot out, hooking you around the middle and flipping you around to press your back against the doorway, his body looming over yours.

“How could I not be?” He murmured, dragging his nose along your temple, the heat of him wrapping around you like a blanket. You could look nowhere but him, completely engulfed in his aura. “I've got such a pretty little thing wrapped around my finger.”

You rolled your eyes, but made no move to escape, the party with all your friends just down the hall completely forgotten. You only wished it was Harry you were pressed up against instead of the wall. Sandwiched between them was your favorite place to be.

His lips trailed down your neck, the feather light contact sparking along your skin like a live wire, and you gasped, arching into him.

“Is it too early to send everyone home?” You whined, raking your fingers through his hair. There was something deeply satisfying about being the one to ruin his always immaculate appearance.

“Just say the word and you'll never see any of them again,” he promised, earning a giggle from you.

“That seems excessive,” you teased.

“I disagree entirely—”

“I'm sorry to be a cock-block, but our guests grow suspicious.” Harry's voice filled the empty hall, and you felt Draco sigh against your neck before stepping back.

“I don't think you're sorry at all,” Draco chastised, throwing Harry a sardonic grin.

Harry shrugged, smirking back. “C’mon, lovely. They're trying to argue that the Demiguise is uglier than Grindylow.”

You gasped. “What?” and raced back out into the living room.

An hour later, you lead Pansy and Blaise to the door, waving goodbye to your final guests and hopping you didn't seem to eager to have them leave.

When you returned to the living room, you found Draco already picking up empty bottles and cans, while Harry was sprawled out on the floor amid the aftermath of the party, leaning back against the couch.

You thought about going to help Draco, but Harry looked far too cozy to pass up.

Harry grinned when you approached, crooked and honey-sweet, and it made your heart skip a beat. “Hi, pretty,” he said, opening his arms to you.

You sank to the ground and laid against his chest, one leg slung over his. “Have fun?” you asked, pecking his cheek. “Seemed to get a little jealous earlier.”

He shrugged. “M’fine,” he muttered, his tone shifting at the mention of Theo’s advances.

You didn’t buy it. Lightly, you dragged your fingertips down his chest, feeling his muscles twitch and bounce under your touch, and leaned in. “Are you lying to me?” you asked, breath fanning across his cheek.

“No, no—I, uh, I’m fine,” he stammered, breath hitching when you leaned in to kiss along the flush crawling up his neck. “Never been better,” he added, a little breathless.

You smiled, pulling at his earlobe with your teeth, before kitten licking the shell. He was trembling a little, his hand on your waist growing heavier, fingers curling around the bunched fabric of your dress.

“So, you don’t need me to show you how much I adore you?” You asked, pulling back a bit.

“No—yes, I—fuck, please don't stop—” He cupped your face, reeling you in for a messy, indulgent kiss. Lips slick with spit, tongue heavy with his lingering high and sweetened by booze, prying apart teeth to get to the softness of you. “Show me, please?” he mumbled against your mouth, breathing labored under the weight of his desire.

How could you refuse such a sweet request?

You shifted down, kissing along the valley of his sternum towards his navel, his skin deliciously warm through his thin shirt. Once settled between his thighs, you quickly undid his belt and fly, freeing him from the confines of his jeans. His cock was already throbbing, flushed with arousal and leaking pearls of precum. So sensitive, he hissed through his teeth when the cold air of the room kissed his fevered skin.

“You need me this badly, darling?” you cooed, blowing air on the rosy head to tease him further.

His chin bobbed, his entire body rigid with tension. “Please, baby, please touch me,” he whimpered.

Taking pity on him, you wrapped your lips around the head, flicking over his slit with your tongue. His whole body shuddered, a broken little groan slipping through is teeth. You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, the hot, heavy slide of his silken skin on your tongue making your thighs clench, honey leaking through your underwear.

“F-fuck,” he moaned, covering his face with his hands. “Feels so good—you’re so good.” His thighs flexed with the effort of not bucking into your mouth, desperate to keep still so you didn’t stop.

You hummed in appreciation, taking him as deep as you could manage, tongue swiping along the root of him. Drool was collecting at his base, stringy as you lifted up and down, making a mess of his boxers and yourself.

“Look at you,” Draco cooed, startling you when you felt fingers glide through your hair. “Such a fucking mess.” He collected your hair into a ponytail, starting to lift and lower you on Harry’s length.

“Draco, f-fuck,” Harry moaned.

Draco chuckled, guiding Harry’s hand to hold your hair and releasing you. “You can do it, Harry. She won’t break,” he teased, and you felt Harry’s hand tighten, adding a little more force to your own movements, pushing you a little further each time.

Tears collected at the corners of your eyes, Harry’s thick length making your jaw ache, and the need between your legs bordering on painful.

Then, you felt Draco’s hands slide under your hipbones, lifting you up to your knees in a quick motion and making you slide further down on Harry’s cock, gagging on him.

“Sh, sh, there’s a good girl,” Draco soothed, pushing your dress up over your hips, and rolling down your sodden panties. His fingers ghosted over your cunt, applying the lightest pressure, and you keened, the sound muffled by Harry’s length. “Don’t worry, pet. I’ll only stop when you do,” he challenged, circling the pool of moisture at your entrance before dipping a finger inside your heat.

You moaned again, redoubling your efforts on Harry to encourage Draco's fingers, rocking back against him as you bobbed up and down Harry's length. Harry was a mess beneath, gasping and whimpering, a sheen of sweat making his shirt stick to his skin, his dark hair cling to his forehead. Even his poor glasses were fogging up.

“Merlin sakes, baby—” Harry grunted when you swallowed around him, taking him deeper than before.

Draco rewarded you with a curl of his fingers, prodding that ruinous spot that had your whole body tingling, eyes rolling back in your head. “You take that cock so well, love. Such a perfect little cocksucker, aren't you?”

You nodded, pleasure unspooling in your belly and making your limbs grow heavy, wanting to dissolve onto the floor and let them ravaged you. Take what's theirs.

“Look so pretty,” Harry cooed, his free hand cupping your jaw, stroking away a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“Tell us how pretty you feel,” Draco instructed, his fingers withdrawing from your heat.

You pulled off of Harry, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I feel so pretty. Thank you for making me feel so pretty,” you babble, reaching back to grab Draco and squeezing Harry's thigh.

Both men grinned, tutting proudly, and your reward prodded against your entrance, much thicker than a finger.

Harry guided you back down to his cock. “Remember, lovely. Don't stop unless you want him to.”

You nodded, lapping at the mess you'd made around his base. Draco swirled his cockhead through your folds, lubricating himself, mimicking the movement of your tongue.

Carefully, you took Harry into your mouth, slowly sinking down his length while Draco pushed into you, just as careful. Stretched perfectly, deliriously full. Pleasure dripped from between your legs, flooding your mind and body. You reached for them again, needing an anchor in the storm, and they both reached back for you, Harry hands over your on his chest, and Draco's fingers twined with yours on your shoulder.

“All ours, hm?” Draco gruffed, rocking his hips into you, his iron length dragging against your gummy walls. “Our mouth, our cunt—” he snapped his hips forward, sending you down on Harry's cock and making you gag. “If only Theo could see you now…”

You shook your head as best you could. “Omphly yours,” you mumbled, tongue squished against your teeth by Harry's girth. Harry keened at the feeling, hips stuttering up, the tendons in his neck pulled taught as you felt him start to swell—so fucking close.

“That's right,” Draco purred, stopping his punishing strokes to grind into you, the squelch of your pussy unforgiving, undeniable. “You're both mine.”

You and Harry nodded automatically, letting Draco's pace pull you up and down Harry's length, all of you rocking together like a castaways on a lifeboat, clinging to one another so you weren't pitched into the churning sea.

“F-fuck, ah—I’m so close,” Harry whimpered, hands tightening as he started to tremble, body burning like a furnace beneath you.

“Not yet, Potter,” Draco grunted, his hand sliding from your hip around to your belly, long fingers finding your clit and the sticky mess you'd made between your legs. “Not until she comes.”

It was like Draco struck a match, your whole body lighting up as he worked you with expert precision, knowing your body even better than you did. You tried your best to keep pace sucking Harry, but your mind was starting to fog, limbs going stupid and gelatinous as every nerve pulled taught in your stomach.

Harry whined, head falling back against the couch cushions. “Oh saints—I can't—”

“She’s almost there—you can. C’mon, angel. Come for us—He's been so good, he deserves to come, doesn't he?” Draco was starting to ramble, a tell-tale sign that he was getting close too, his cock thickening, pressing harder against your cervix with every thrust.

“Please, please, please,” Harry pleaded, and you were done for.

Your orgasm crested, the tension severing in your gut and sending you reeling, quivering so hard Draco had to wrap his arm under your hips to keep you upright.

The boys were dragged into oblivion with you, their cries combining into a single roar as they pumped you full of release, painting your insides white as they fucked you and one another through it.

“That's it—so fucking good for us. Did so well,” Draco said, stroking your spine and Harry’s outstretched leg, praising you both. He eased you off of Harry, laying you gently on the carpet and using his wand to clean you both up.

You were completely spent, wrung out like a washcloth. Boneless, brainless, and practically giddy with endorphins.

“You're amazing.” Harry offered you a sip of water, holding your hand while to you recovered. “Smiley girl,” he teased, leaning down to peck the grin tugging at your lips.

“Feel good, darling?” Draco asked, massaging your legs, his own smile breaking through. Viscerally pleased that he had you so thoroughly wrecked.

Harry was trying to be coy, but you could see the possessive gleam in his eye, the greedy way he took stock of every red mark and bead of sweat on your body. “Looking a little starstruck, love," Harry teased.

"Still think you were naive and had questionable taste?” Draco asked.

You shook your head, too breathless to speak, your throat raw and tender in the best way.

Poor Theo didn't stand a chance.

140 notes · View notes

theodoresdoll · 1 day ago

Text

LOVESICK!

IN WHICH... Theodore Nott, the quiet Slytherin, is sickeningly in love with you.

WARNINGS INCLUDE... fluff, rushed ending, fem pronouns used, fast burn, not following the canon plot of Harry Potter, not proofread, pining, sappiness, awkward and bookworm Theo. + a short nsfw bonus (including cunnilingus and fingering. it’s my first time writing smut, i’ll get better with practice so be nice☹️). mdni.

A WORD FROM THE WRITER... ahhhh!!!! I’m so so excited to post this. I hope you all enjoy reading these hc’s as much as I enjoyed writing them.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP TO 18.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... notices you in the romance aisle of a small bookstore in Hogsmeade. He’d only seen you around the castle a handful of times but never had he spotted you outside of school. You seemed to be scanning over the binds of the books, merely glancing at the titles. Presumably, one had caught your attention, picking it up and briefly looking at the cover before reading the synopsis.

He stands frozen between the bookshelves, analyzing your features. Have you always been this pretty? Nonsense, snap out of it, Nott. You’re here to get a book, not stare at a random girl.

It is only when you suddenly stand in front of him that he is brought back to reality. “Have you read this? Is it any good?” Your voice is as sweet as honey and as soft as silk, and he has to resist a smile.

He glances at the book in your hand, shaking his head, “No, I haven’t. I don't read romance.” He’s partially lying, he much preferred philosophical literature, but he was not above romance.

“Shame. I was hoping for a second opinion.” You frown, “Thanks, anyway.” Turning around, you make your way to the store counter.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... buys the book after you leave out of sheer curiosity.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... reads the book over the next few days, finding the characters’ unbearable cheesiness obscurely endearing.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... goes back to that same bookstore two weeks later, secretly wishing to see you again.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... does see you again, and you look as beautiful as ever. He takes a deep breath, pretending to be looking at books, but in actuality, is slowly and subtly making his way toward you.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... isn’t sure why, but can’t speak when standing in front of you. He freezes, any form of confidence he thought he had before leaving his body.

“Can I help you?” You raise an eyebrow, turning your attention away from the bookshelf.

“Um, no… just—I noticed you were looking at Me Before You, and it’s good, for a muggle book and all.” His voice has a slight tremble, and it’s obvious he’s nervous. He has to oppose the urge to roll his eyes at his awkwardness.

“I thought you didn’t read romance?” Your tone is laced with confusion and tease, a small smirk playing at your lips.

“I do. I do, just not often.” He pauses, “I thought I’d give a second opinion this time since I wasn’t able to last time.”

“Ah. Well, thank you. I suppose I’ll be getting it, then.” You give a closed-mouth, friendly smile that almost makes him melt right there. Almost. You grab the book from the shelf, making eye contact with him once more. “Y/n.” You extend your arm, offering your hand.

“Theodore.” He replies, shaking it politely.

A moment of quiet passes over the two, then, “Your coat is quite nice.”

He falters for a second but regains his composure shortly after, “Oh, thank you. It’s from—” He tries to check the tag on the inside of his sleeve, but it’s to no avail, “Never mind. I think I cut the tag off.”

A giggle escapes your mouth, “I should check out. I’ll see you around, I hope.”

It’s only after the shop’s bell rings, signaling that you left, that he registers your laughter. He made you laugh.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... replays your short conversation in his mind over the week; during mealtimes, lessons, reading, and even while he’s lying down to sleep.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... doesn't realize it, but he had been staring at you during the two classes you had together. And in the halls. And at parties. He refused to acknowledge it, but you had consumed his every thought.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... begins asking Pansy about you.

“Do you know her favorite color?” He mumbles, the sound of his quill scratching ink on his parchment, transferring words from Pansy’s notes to his own.

“Merlin, Theodore. I told you, I’ve talked to her a total of two times. We're not best mates,” She rolls her eyes, leaning back in her chair, “If you’d just approach her, you wouldn’t have to ask around. Instead, you insist on being a timid hermit.”

“That's simply not true, I prefer to know a bit about her before talking to her. And I don’t even like her like that.”

Scoffing, she crosses her arms, “Mhm, I’m sure. I guess copying my notes because you were too busy staring at her to pay attention to anything Snape had to say means nothing.”

Theodore lets out an irritated sigh, looking up briefly before bringing his gaze back to his parchment. “Just shut up, will you?”

“Oh, you have a genuine infatuation for this girl, I see. Have you even talked to her more than three times?” Pansy teases, letting out a small snort at her own comment.

“Quiet.” He quickly retorts, his tone dripping in agitation.

The black-haired girl throws her hands up in mock surrender, “Fine.” A moment of silence passes before Pansy speaks again, “But you need to talk to her eventually.”

“Pansy.” He warns, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, okay. I’m done.”

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... finally builds up the courage to talk to you during class. Settling into a seat next to yours, he places his satchel on the ground.

He watches you pull out your stationary, “Do you like potions?”

“Sorry?” You look at him, leaning in slightly so you can hear him a bit better.

“Do you like potions?” He repeats, mirroring you.

You shrug, “Does anyone like potions? I mean—it’s not the worst, but it's certainly not my favorite.”

A small smile pulls at his lips, but before he could respond, Professor Snape silences the class, beginning the lecture.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... plops down on his bed after the day finally wears, running a hand over his face with a frustrated groan.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... hears Mattheo sigh exasperatedly, “Gods, just speak to her.”

“I did, and I was interrupted by Snape.” His forearm rests over his eyes, “Maybe I should just stop. It’s clearly never going to work.”

“Nonsense.” Mattheo gets up from the couch in their shared dorm, marking his page in his textbook. “Invite her to one of your father’s Galas or something of the sort.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Then I will for you,” Mattheo states plainly.

“No, you won’t.” He sits up, “I’d look pathetic.”

“You are pathetic.”

Theodore rolls his eyes, throwing a pillow at the man.

“Ow!” He exclaims exaggeratedly, rubbing his arm.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... is pressured by Mattheo to ask you to his father’s upcoming business Gala, his hands slightly sweaty as he approaches you in the halls.

“Hi.” He whispers, falling into step beside you.

“Hey.” You smile, your textbooks clasped in your arms.

“So, uh… are you doing anything this weekend?” He asks, his voice barely audible.

“Not really. Why?” You respond, your tone is slightly tinted with confusion.

He hesitates to speak, his fingers painfully digging into his palms, “My father is having a Gala to celebrate his—it doesn’t matter. Um, would you come with me?”

“Wow. That’s a big ask.” Your eyes widen, “Like a date?”

“Yeah, I guess. Obviously, you don’t have to, you can say no.” His voice heavy with nervousness, taking his bottom lip between his teeth, and chewing on it anxiously.

“No—no, I’ll go with you. I was just taken by surprise, is all.” You reassure, putting your hand on his arm and pausing your walk, a futile attempt to cool his nerves.

“Oh, okay.” He nods, “Okay. Yeah, I’ll come by your dorm on Sunday.”

You mimic his nod, grabbing his hand, pulling a quill out of your satchel that has excess ink on it, and writing your dorm number gently. “I’ll see you Sunday, then.”

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... does, in fact, see you on Sunday, taking in your figure in a white, elegant gown with lace detail.

He stands still with his mouth agape for a moment, swallowing harshly, “You look… You look beautiful.”

“Thanks. I hope this is appropriate, you didn’t specify a dress code so I just kind of guessed.” You shrug, grabbing your hand purse.

“No—no, you’re perfect.” He straightens his tuxedo, clears his throat, and realizes what he said, “I meant your dress, by the way. Not—”

“You’re like a frightened cat,” You joke, collecting a few items and putting them into the bag, your sheer shawl falling slightly, “It’s cute.”

Theodore swallows harshly when you link your arm with his, offering a reassuring look.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... arrives with you on his arm, greeting his friends and kindly introducing you to them, despite their previous knowledge of you from his relentless rants.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... nervously presents you to your father, his father patting him on the back and whispering something inaudible to you.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... gains confidence as the night wears on, getting to know you further.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... walks you back to your dorm after the evening ends, his hand in yours.

“I had fun tonight.” You smile up at him, pausing in front of your door.

“Yeah?” He whispers in consideration of your dormmates sleeping inside.

“Yeah,” You affirm, “We should do it again sometime.”

“We should.” He agrees.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Leaning in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “Goodnight.”

Before he can react, you depart into your dorm, closing the door quietly behind you.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... does follow up with you the next day, planning your next date.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... takes you to a fancy dinner for your second date. Then, a third. Fourth.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... asks you to be his girlfriend on the sixth date, to which you say yes.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... notices the slow progression of your relationship: sitting next to you and passing notes in class, his hand resting on your thigh at mealtimes, your head leaning on his shoulder during study sessions.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... would buy you the moon if he could. Literally. He buys you anything and everything you even glance at.

♡ nsfw bonus.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... tries so hard—so unbelievably hard to keep things strictly chaste, not wanting to rush you. But the chastity quickly fades when you spend the night at his dorm, his roommates gone for the night. You sit atop him, straddling him as your lips move against his.

Pulling away, his breath ragged, “Wait—I don’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do.”

“No,” you shake your head, “I want to.”

“You’re sure?” His hand squeezes your thigh gently.

“Yes. Yeah. I’m sure.” You nod, shifting uncomfortably against him due to the growing wet spot on your panties.

“Fuck—fuck, okay. Lay on your back f’me.” He mumbles, watching you sink into the mattress beside him.

Hovering over you, he places a soft kiss on your lips. His hand wanders down your body, slipping below your shorts, the only barrier between your cunt and his hand being the thin fabric of your underwear. A smirk appears on his face when you instinctively buck your hips into his palm.

“So needy, huh?” He drawls teasingly, circling your clothed clit with his fingers.

“Please, Theo. Need you, please.” You whimper, arching your back slightly.

He hums, hooking his fingers on the waistband of your shorts, “Lift your hips and spread your legs, sweetheart.”

In a swift motion, he pulls both your shorts and underclothing down to your knees. Looking up at you with hooded eyes, Theodore slowly attaches his lips to your sensitive clit, sucking gently. His actions earn a soft, quiet gasp from you.

Your hand moves to his head, pulling at his locks delicately. His tongue works diligently, feeling your thighs squeeze his head lightly.

“Gods, you taste you good.” He mutters, your head throwing back as you moan. You subconsciously grind against his mouth and he places a firm hand on your lower stomach to still you in response, “Stop.”

“Can’t help it,” You nearly whine, your fingers gripping his hair tighter.

“I know, but just try, baby.” He hums, his tongue continuing its work. He brings his index and middle finger to your lips, “Suck.”

He feels you take his digits into your mouth, your tongue tracing them. When he’s satisfied, he pulls them out with a pop. Slowly, he sinks his fingers into your cunt, his lips still attached to your clit.

“Fuck,” You pant, his fingers curling inside of you. Then, he gradually pistons his fingers in and out.

He detaches his mouth, going up to kiss you, his hands still laboring to please you. He pulls away, his forehead resting on yours, “You taste yourself?”

You nod, not verbalizing.

“Words, baby. I need words.” His fingers never relent.

“Yeah,” You moan, your breath quickening.

“There you go, love. Good job.” He smiles, feeling you clench around his fingers, “Shit—I can feel you—cum for me.”

With that, you release, a loud whimper leaving your mouth. He slowly pulling out, your legs shaking.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Theodore whispers, pressing a quick kiss into your lips before disappearing into the bathroom. He emerges just moments later with a rag in hand, approaching you.

“You really don’t have to,” You sigh, smiling kindly at him.

“I really do.” He retorts, bringing the damp cloth to your inner thigh and cleaning you up.

Once he finishes, he throws the washrag on the ground. “And you dare to question why your dorm is cluttered.”

“Oh, be quiet.” He playfully jabs, settling beside you.

You roll your eyes, placing a last peck on his lips before resting your head on his chest, “Goodnight.”

He turns the lamp that resides on his bedside table off, engulfing the two of you in complete darkness, “Goodnight, lovely.”

♡ feel free to send requests.

♡ reblogs are appreciated but not necessary.

122 notes · View notes

ma1dita · 2 days ago

Text

ready for checkout!

'between certainties and doubts' installment part of the mean!remus agenda, aka a moment from a terrifyingly convoluted teenage situationship between remus lupin and an unidentified Hogwarts student (x fem!reader) wc: 1.4k a/n: remus sees someone he doesn't expect at the grocery store. fluff n a lil flirting. enjoy the beginning of their doomed summer. love a summer fling. feel free to send requests for them

—

Though it wouldn’t seem like it, summer was Remus Lupin’s favorite time of year.

Summer was Remus’ chance to be someone other than himself, and that was something he greatly looked forward to. No school, no magic, no worries about his furry little problem until the next full moon, and most days were just him doing whatever errand his mum would pull him along to do. His perfectly normal, perfectly Muggle mum.

And Hope Lupin was a force to be reckoned with on her own, undeterred by the magical world her family lived in, so whatever she says, goes. She was Remus’ favorite person in the world—and right now, all she wanted was fresh ingredients to make her world-famous oggies.

Nothing stops his mum from conquering her grocery list. Not even the fact that he’d barely pulled into the parking spot before she hops out of the passenger seat as if all the leeks in town would be bought within the next two minutes.

“Mum, wait a moment, yeah?” he half-yells, and he watches her wave him off with a grin, making her way into Tesco.

“Get a trolley an’ follow me, boy!”

In moments like these, with his hands gripping onto the handle of the shopping cart, Remus can’t name the feeling, but he knows that there is nowhere else he’d want to be—completely normal, and completely Muggle; the half of him he only gets to tap into when he’s home.

No matter if he’s shivering from the subzero temperature they keep the inside of the store.

The cart squeaks underfoot as it rolls across the white linoleum, chilly air from the AC rushing against his sweat-slicked pores. Even in the summertime, he wears long sleeves, pulling them over his wrists as he glances up at the sweets aisle, shuffling past instead.

But he can’t resist his sweet tooth.

He doubles back, turning 180 at the end of the aisle, his sneakers scrubbing against the worn floors, and Remus scans through the assortment of biscuits before his eyes land on you, teetering on a misplaced wooden crate in an attempt to reach for something on the top shelf.

For a moment, he thinks he still must be half-awake, or maybe this is one of those weird dreams where one shows up naked to school—he’s only barely been able to regulate his sleep schedule since term ended, after all. But maybe the sensation he feels in his chest is butterflies swarming his ribcage—he’s never actually thought of you as much as he would like to.

Never would allow himself to at least.

Always seeing you in passing, acquaintances at best, Lily and Marlene sang praises about you constantly, and you were too pretty for him to ruin, too scary to entangle himself with, because he knew if something happened, you wouldn’t want to stay. Not with him. It’s a miracle in itself that he’s already got the boys with him for life, despite his predicament.

It’d be easier if he didn’t know you, Remus thinks, because at least talking to a stranger who has no idea who he is outside of this Tesco would be infinitely less complicated. His mum always did say he overthinks too much. Remus looks down to see that he’s still wearing clothes, blinks twice—and comes to the conclusion that you are very much real, and holy shit, you’re gonna break an ankle if you keep doing that. For Cadbury Dairy Milks?

“Need a hand?” he decides to say, clearing his throat behind you. You’re already here, there’s no harm in a brief interaction, and then he can forget this ever happened and see you in the fall. Your body seizes like you’ve been electrocuted—whipping a head full of hair in his direction with an animated squeak, and you fall backwards, straight into Remus’ cart. The Cadbury Dairy Milks you were reaching for come spilling off the shelves like hard-hitting confetti, at least four of the bars smacking against Remus’ head and neck, bouncing off to land onto your misshapen form that’s currently crumpled in front of him.

“Lupin!” you say with a gasp. He can’t tell if you’re scandalizing the situation or creeped out by the fact that he’s there, and then you’re smiling up at him under the harsh white lights as one does when they’re relieved to see an old friend.

“What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that,” he tentatively grins, offering a hand and helping you down from the trolley, “Didn’t expect to be checking out a pretty girl at Tesco today.”

You feel like a princess, patting down your skirt as your cheeks flush, and you look at him with a sideways glance. He’s different here than he is at school, something more relaxed—his shoulders have descended from their naturally pinched position, and Merlin, he’s not wearing argyle or tartan or anything that resembles business casual attire. Somehow, Remus Lupin has gotten softer in the summer. You think you might like it, seeing him in this new light.

“So you were checking me out?”

Remus Lupin is a walking contradiction—he’s all bark and no bite. He awkwardly idles in front of you, emerald eyes flickering to the hem of your dress that kisses the sheen of your thighs from the summer sun as he sputters out a response, something that sounds like, “Er… I meant, you... like buying… Um that sounds wrong too,” he clears his throat, and you let him off the hook for now, giggling at his embarrassment. He finds it weird that he doesn’t mind it, shaking his head as he lets himself laugh along with you. You’d never seen each other outside of Hogwarts, much less a world away from the one you both frequent.

Was there ever really a time you both talked about anything other than schoolwork or given more than a wave and nod in greeting?

“Would’ve been easier if I could just Accio it, huh?”

“But then I wouldn’t have had to see you fall for me,” he says in jest, and he feels a certain satisfaction at catching you off guard again, raising your eyebrows and shoving him with a force that rattles the Jaffa Cakes behind him. Is this flirting? Is Remus Lupin flirting with you?

“You wish, Lupin!”

“Remus,” he mumbles, and the look you give him is searching and curious, signed off with a saccharine smile that he’ll still be thinking about when he closes his eyes tonight. You nod, saying your name like he doesn’t already know—he memorizes the way the letters fall off your lips and wonders if they’d taste just as sweet. There’s something more here, palpable in the way your knuckles brush against the others as you haphazardly fix the mess you’ve made (you just wanted a reason to touch his hands, if we’re being real. He knows this, and lets you. There’s no fucking way you could reach that shelf in the first place).

This was new and uncharted territory, but Remus resigns himself to the realization that this is…nice. You’re here for the summer to help your grandma settle into her new house, which he finds himself thrilled about, although there is absolutely nothing to do in this dreary old town. When he tells you this, you giggle again; somehow the two of you have started pushing his cart together, walking up and down the aisles with no particular direction, and none of the items on his mum’s list have gotten checked off.

“Well, I’m sure you’d make very entertaining company,” you reason, arm brushing against his Henley-covered one, and he shivers again despite the freezer aisles being across the store.

“Hiya—ooh!”

Hope Lupin is stunned by the sight of her darling boy willingly interacting with a girl, a very pretty one at that. She doesn’t even have to say anything before Remus widens his eyes, and within minutes, she’s inviting you to have dinner with them, and oh, you live just down the hill from us, how lovely! Remus, you never told me you had a girlfriend!

“Maaaam!” the tall boy whines, until he sees you stifling a grin at his accent slipping out and how petulant he is stomping about in front of his mother at a towering 6 feet 2 inches.

“I’m just a friend of his, Mrs. Lupin,” you say, locking eyes with the boy in question.

Friends.

With you.

An interesting, surprising development—even for an overthinker like him, Remus didn’t see this one coming. He nods, scrunching his nose at the idea, and when his mum turns away, long fingers reach out to pinch your side.

Both of you walk out of Tesco with no Cadbury Dairy Milks in tow, neither of you finding yourselves bothered by that whatsoever.

—

i don't do taglists anymore! follow @ma1dita-mail & turn on post notifs 🤍

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #marauders x reader #marauders era #harry potter x reader #remus lupin fluff #mean!remus

81 notes · View notes

lqveharrington · 1 day ago

Text

Edward & Ann | F.W.

summary: you want to know the truth between the wizarding world’s most famous couple, but with the impending war, was their story truly correct?

pairing: Fred Weasley x Malfoy!reader

includes: comfort, angsty, talks of death, teasing from fred, up to interpretation what kind of relationship they have (lmk if I missed any!)

a/n: it took so many rewrites to get to this point 😭 sorry it took this long

Everyone knew the story of Romeo and Juliet. There were so many variations that even the wizards made their own twisted version of the doomed couple. The most popular were Ann and Edward. It was the exact same story of Romeo and Juliet, but instead a war was upon the doomed couple and only Edward died, leaving Ann completely heartbroken and alone. This story was told in every generation of wizards and witches. From every pureblood down to the muggleborns who connected the fairytale to Shakespeare's own writing.

Narcissa was the one who told her daughter and son about Edward and Ann. Molly was the one who told the story to her six children. Both families put their own twist to the story, whether good or bad was up to debate.

Yet you wanted to understand what the true story was. Edward and Ann seemed real to you—that their lives weren’t something stolen from the muggle play. It felt like Edward and Ann were a secret from the start and only when they were found out by their parents did their families make up stories about their children’s lives. Their entire story kept changing, and you knew there had to be something more to Edward and Ann than what was told to anyone in the wizarding world.

Luckily, you knew the person to go to when you needed to sneak around the school. It was only a bonus that he fancied you and you enjoyed the attention.

“Is it really necessary to use code names, Weasley?” You tilt your head at him with a small, teasing smile—taking his hand as you stepped across a small creek that broke through the forest.

Fred carefully maneuvered you safely across before following himself, his rough hand contrasting your soft one. You both knew this path blindfolded, but he wouldn’t dare find a bruise on you he didn’t willingly give. After all, he liked be a gentleman when needed.

His free hand was warm against your back as you found yourself balancing atop of a fallen log. Your arms were out and your legs taking careful steps—one foot in front of the other—before you jumped in front of him, careful to stay on the small dirt path that led you both further away from the castle.

“If you don’t like your code name, there’s nothing we can do about it now, Malfoy.” Fred tried to hide a smirk and watched you carefully—knowing exactly what you were about to do.

Absorbing his words, you stop in your tracks and scoff, not caring that his chest hit your back at your abruptness. Tilting your head back, you narrowed your eyes at him and his cheeky grin. Sure, you were a sucker for how tall he was compared to you, but sometimes you felt so… small next to his 6’3 build.

“My nickname doesn’t even make any sense.” You argue and momentarily let your guard down.

If you were being completely honest, you rarely had your guard up when you were with Fred. He somehow found a way to chip away every piece of armor you adorned until it was just your true self. You couldn’t tell if you found it insufferable or not. His personality contrasted yours, but you would never trade it for the world.

Crossing your arms, a frown tugged at your lips as you spoke. “You gave me the name ferret.”

Fred simply rolled his eyes at you before pulling you into an unexpected kiss—causing you to gasp at his sudden agency. You did little to fight back, eventually melting under his soft yet firm touch. Unfortunately, Frederick Gideon Weasley was the biggest tease to ever exist at Hogwarts.

He slowly began to move away from you, leaving a lingering kiss to your lips one last time before finally separating. He grinned widely at your flushed face—your cheeks pink and eyes filled with hazes of lust.

You run your fingers through your hair before tucking stray pieces of platinum blonde behind both your ears—your telltale sign that you liked something. A lot.

“Unfair, Weasley.” You whip back around and start the trek to the alcove once more, refusing to let him get a better look at your flushed face.

His long legs made up for your quick pace as he eventually caught up to you, “I think it’s fair, considering you call me weasel.”

You let a small smile slip through at your code name for him. The nickname gave you a sense of familiarity—reminding you of Draco and Ron’s many arguments. How they would get along in the near future was not your problem. However, you were sure Fred would stick them into a locked room if they didn’t stop arguing.

After a comfortable silence—your heartbeat and flushed face finally toned down—you finally made your request. You stepped around the wet moss on the stones, “Anyway, I wanted to know if you could sneak me into the library’s restricted section—“

Fred interrupted your thought and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, kissing your cheek when you squeaked in surprise. “Oh, love, that’s the easiest thing to do.”

The alcove you found yourselves in was tucked away behind a mini waterfall, deep within the edges of the Forbidden Forest. You and Fred stumbled upon the place in the 5th year when he—well, those were private memories that didn’t need to be shared.

“You couldn’t have asked me in DADA?” He pulled you closer to him—his arms wrapped around your waist tightly so that you had to peer up and he had to look down just to be face to face.

“One,” You manage to put up a finger and tap it against his chest. “Umbridge would find a way to listen to our conversations, especially since you, George, and Lee have quite the reputation—“

“Thank you.”

“—Two,” You poke his chest with two fingers this time before gesturing to the predicament you now were in. You were sure that if you were seen like this in the corridors of Hogwarts, both Gryffindor and Slytherin wouldn’t have any points left for the rest of the school year. “This wouldn’t work with the new eight inch rule between boys and girls.”

“I don’t have to do this, you just want it.” Fred pulled you impossibly closer and let his hand graze your ass ever so slightly, causing you to gasp and glare. “You love me.”

You grab his wrist away and keep a steady gaze on him, your own words teasing him ever so slightly. “Get me into the library first, weasel. Then maybe I can tell you whether or not I love you.”

He raised his brows but didn’t say anything, only focusing his brown eyes on the way you stared at him. You grinned and left his embrace, going further into the alcove as he stood there. Godric, he truly fell hard for the one person he didn’t think he would ever like.

“We only snuck into the library for a children’s fairytale?” Fred whispered-shouted toward you with his wand illuminated above the old parchment, his free hand scrubbing his face in confusion. “Why do they lock the stupid fairytales here anyway?”

“Will you shut up?” You groan and take his wand from him, the light growing brighter within your determined grasp. You glance at him briefly before focusing your attention back to the words on the parchment. “Let me read in peace.”

He rolled his eyes and snuck a kiss to your cheek before grabbing your own wand from around your waist, moving to explore on his own. Honestly, Fred thought you were going to steal a book from the records for once but instead you wanted to read an old fairytale everyone knew by heart.

A waste of sneaking around, but he liked you a little too much and would instantly fold to all your demands.

You flipped the page and stared at the black ink, the words writing out the tragic love story. Each loop and period hand written—each i dotted to perfection. So it only made sense when you saw words with double looped o's. You traced back each word and mentally kept track of each word until a sentence formed.

“They were always cursed to fail. No matter how many times their story was told, someone had to die.” You murmur to yourself in disbelief, gripping onto Fred's wand tighter. Each word sunk into your heart, cracking it into shards the more the puzzle pieces connected. “It was part of a wizard's stupid curse placed upon a woman who broke his heart—“

“What are you mumbling to yourself about?” Fred made his way back over to you, his two fingers looping around the belt loop of your jeans. He rested his head atop of yours and glanced at the book, “Malfoy?”

“He cursed their bloodline.” You clear your throat and snap the book shut, blinking tears away from your eyes before Fred could notice them. Your voice was clear, yet you were quieter than ever. “Every other generation born into their family will go through the curse whether or not they find love. Someone close to them is bound to die, even if they try to prevent it.”

“It's a real story?” He thumbed your waist and letting you rest your body weight on him as you leaned back on his soft touches. His chest rumbled as he spoke, “What wizarding family is cursed? Do we know them?”

You fidget with one of his long fingers and stare at the lines in his palms, eyeing the life line. Tracing across the lines, you shake your head. “No.”

Fred nodded and let out a breath of relief. He wouldn't know what to say to the poor family if he knew her. He couldn't imagine living a life where you would find love just for it to be ripped away from you within an instant. It was cruel to live that way. Hell, he would rather die than experience that.

“Ready to go?” He turned you in his arms and tucked your hair behind your ears, frowning when he caught your distant stare. “Hey, what's wrong? What happened?”

“What?” You snap your eyes to his and blink, subconsciously twisting the Malfoy ring on your finger. You were starting to understand the distaste for the name with the information you were slowly gaining. “Nothing, sorry. M'just tired.”

Fred scanned your face meticulously and cupped your cheeks, kissing your forehead softly. “I’m sorry... Let's get you off to the Slytherin commons, yeah? I'll make sure you won't get caught falling asleep in the halls.”

“M'hero.” You mumble as you let a small smile slip, looking up at him and resting your chin on his chest. Your eyes filled with the same love you swore you would never have in your life.

And it absolutely terrified you.

“Lead the way, weasel.” You tease softly.

He grinned and pressed a quick kiss to your lips before tugging you away toward the exit of the library—ensuring you were both safe to leave without any prying eyes.

However, the fates always watched you and your brother the moment you were born. They knew exactly what would happen sooner rather than later. No one knew but you. Salazar, your father didn’t even know. He didn’t even question his bloodline. You weren’t even sure if you even wanted to tell Draco. He was burdened as much as you, but he was only 15.

Hell, you didn’t know if you could bring yourself to even tell Fred. It would hurt him, and you would never want to hurt him. So you opted to never tell anyone.

Fred would never know the true turmoil running through your mind. Every single step you took toward the Slytherin common room—every single breath—felt like you were burning. The truth was boiling in your chest, gnawing at your insides to be set free, to tell him what you found out. The signet felt like an everlasting weight you had to carry for the rest of your life.

The Malfoy name was forever cursed.

And Fred would never know—nor would Astoria.

117 notes · View notes

amorchai · 2 days ago

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐌 𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒.

formally called a break from studies. repost from my old blog, was previously 141 notes.

pairing(s): draco malfoy x reader

summary: you have a bad week with upcoming exams, and draco decides to help.

words: 1348

warnings/tags: established relationship, stress, undressing ( not sexual )

hogwarts was a dream for the most part, a magical building filled with aspiring witches and wizards. but when it came to exam period, it became the most stressful period of the school year.

students would lock away in their dorms or cooped in the library to cram studying until the summer holidays rolled around. you felt an extended amount of pressure due to the home stretch before finishing for your final year, you and your fellow classmates sent into the real world.

in comparison, you couldn’t see draco more relaxed in his life. his last exam is in three days and due to how naturally easy whipping up potions came to him, he wasn’t concerned in opening any books. therefore, when students start fleeing the moment they finish their dinner in the great hall and sprint off for studying, draco trudges up to his solo dorm, hands in pockets and ready to unwind in bed with a book.

he never saw you at dinner, already knowing you’re currently in a corner of the library scribbling away and panic scanning pages of your muggle studies books.

draco only made it ten pages into his book before jumping at the rattling of his doorknob before a very wild and overwhelmed frame rushes in, arms overflowing in books.

“i have muggle studies tomorrow and i still have to read and take notes on the last part about electricity, which is about thirty pages long… why is there so much electricity? do muggles really need all of that-?” draco moves from his comfortable position in bed to sit up with a small smile when you drop your heavy bag with a thump on his floor and collapse on his desk chair.

with a sigh he stands, “love, calm down you’re going to have a panic attack if you continue like this.”

for the first time you look at him, draco’s hand reaching for yours as he kneels beside the wooden chair to be in your view. your eyes are glassy with tears, your tie suddenly feeling overly restricting and you’re very aware of the shoes pressing achingly into your feet.

with a groan your head falls back so you’re faced with the ceiling, draco watching as your foot lifts so you use the tip of one to force the heel of your shoes off the opposite and you sigh in relief at the immediate feeling.

“stop, you’ll scuff them,” draco softly ushers, hand slipping from yours to grasp your ankle gently, unknotting and sliding them off to sit next to his pair before kindly dragging his fingertips across your legs in an effort to calm you.

there’s a light chuckle sound in the air when draco watches you melt into the chair, looking unwilling to move. “how about… we take this off…?” draco starts, leaning up to begin unravelling your tie as he continues, “then i can run you a nice bath. i have chocolate in my drawer and i wrapped up some of your favourite pastries since you missed dinner. then i can read you to sleep, hm?”

“what about my studying?” you ask quietly, wanting everything he said but an unsettling feeling sitting in the pit of your stomach at the thought of abandoning work.

you watch the tie being thrown atop his bed as he stands to unbutton the top buttons of your shirt while kissing your forehead ever so delicately. “you will never get any good amount of studying with the amount of stress you’re feeling. i think you should rest for now, and first period tomorrow i’ll help you study for muggle studies since you don't have class.”

draco watches as you hum before murmuring tiredly, “you have alchemy first period.” you’re hesitant when draco’s hands grasp yours, gently pulling you from the chair and towards the bathroom.

“my love, i’ve done the exam, i don’t need to go. plus you’re more important.”

through your aching eyes, you watch your boyfriend run a bath, adding your favourite scent he already has sitting aside for you. your cramped fingers begin unbuttoning the rest of your shirt while steam fills the room and dangerously creating a calming atmosphere.

a smile etches on draco’s face when you sigh while laying back in the water, the knots in your muscles immediately relaxing against the warmth and eyelids dropping from lack of sleep due to the anxious workload you’ve poured on yourself.

you don’t open your eyes as you murmur into the quiet room, “are you coming in?” and without a reply, draco slots in behind you moments later, his chest inviting your back to slot perfectly against.

between comfortable silence, small words are exchanged. draco talking about random things in his day or asking how you’re feeling, only to be met with incoherent hums or words when you begin to slumber against his chest.

you awake to the feeling of warm water and fingers nudging your scalp, draco caressing the vanilla shampoo into your skin before rinsing it off with water. the doting only causes your muscles to lax close to mush, completely calm.

“how long was i asleep?” you ask when his fingers caress your shoulder softly, rubbing his shower gel in, “twenty minutes, love. we should get you out and to bed, hm?” you love this side of draco, completely doting and caring, a complete contrast to how everyone else sees him.

when you step from the bath, draco leaves you with a warm towel to begin collecting some pyjamas kept in his drawer along with a mix of your things and his. bringing it in, he settles a peck against your cheek, “i’ll get changed through here, come out when you’re ready.”

you take your time, slipping into your pyjamas, washing your face in the sink, and taking care of your hair before you finally step from the bathroom and back into draco’s room.

your boyfriend is under the duvet, book in one hand and your eyes travel to see the stolen great hall placemat atop his bedside filled with chocolate and pastries. “the house elves will be looking for that,” you nod towards the mat while pulling covers to allow you to slide in beside.

draco shrugs, uncaring while extending his free arm to allow you to coddle into his side comfortably, cheek pressed to his chest when he asks, “want me to read to you for a while?”

looking up from his chest, you nod when he glances at you with a hint of a sweet smile carved into the corners of his lips, far too kind to you for his own good. you peck the smile and murmur a small, “thank you,” against his skin when you settle.

“you left ‘a catcher in the rye’ here last time, i debated on that… but we’re going for something simple instead…” draco trails off, flashing the cover to you where it says, ‘the tales of beedle the bard.’

“but i love catcher in the rye…” you hum with a small teasing smile as you squeeze his side, “yes and i hate to sound like my dad, but we are striving away from muggle things. only because you have muggle studies tomorrow.”

the feeling of his top underneath your fingertips, you slowly move your hands so it settles underneath his top and against his torso in attempts for more contact, “besides, i’ve read you this to sleep multiple times.” draco flicks back to the first page before clearing his throat to begin.

you can’t find it in you to argue, listening as he begins reading the starting pages of ‘the wizard and the hopping pot.’ with a final kiss to draco’s cheek you lay your head upon his shoulders and you feel the weight of his own resting atop yours as he quietly reads through the first few lines. “there was once a kindly old wizard who used his magic generously and wisely for the benefit of his neighbours—” you chuckle in contentment as you close your eyes and find yourself already struggling to stay awake.

amorchai masterlist . taglist form

#જ⁀➴ 𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 #𝐡𝐩 𝐠𝐭 𝐞𝐫𝐚 ⁑ draco malfoy #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fic #draco lucius malfoy #hp fanfic #harry potter #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy fluff #hp fandom #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader

42 notes · View notes

httpvomitello · 2 days ago

Note

The Boy Who Hated You y/n x Harry Potter

Hellooo, I hope you like it (and again, please don't forget to add as much detail as possible next time) ~ ♡

The Boy Who Hated You .｡*･ﾟﾟ

Summary: Harry Potter was the Chosen One. The Boy Who Lived. The hero of the Wizarding World. And he hated you. At least, that’s what it felt like.

harry potter x f!Hufflepuff reader

Harry Potter hated you.

At least, that’s what it felt like.

Every time you tried to talk to him, he would brush you off. If you caught his eye in the corridors, his expression would either be unreadable or full of irritation. You had never done anything to him—never said a bad word, never treated him with anything but kindness—but for some reason, it was like he couldn’t stand the sight of you.

And you hated that you cared.

You had first noticed it when he was thrown into the Triwizard Tournament. The school had been divided—half supporting him, half convinced he was a liar. But you had just felt bad for him. He hadn’t asked for any of this.

"You must be under so much pressure," you had said gently, offering a small, sympathetic smile.

His jaw clenched. "I don’t need your pity."

You had been so stunned that you hadn’t even responded. From that moment on, every attempt at kindness was met with cold dismissal. It wasn’t even neutrality—it was an active refusal to engage.

It drove you insane.

The worst part? You were a Hufflepuff. You were supposed to be good at making friends. And yet, for reasons beyond your understanding, The Boy Who Lived seemed to despise you.

When fifth year rolled around and Umbridge turned Hogwarts into a nightmare, you joined Dumbledore’s Army along with the others, ready to fight back. And that was when everything came to a head.

The first time you were paired together for practice, Harry let out an audible groan.

"Is this really necessary?" he asked, looking at Hermione as if she had personally offended him.

You stiffened. "It’s just practice, Potter. I won’t bite."

His gaze flicked to you, then away. "Fine. Stupefy."

The spell shot toward you with way more force than necessary, and you barely dodged it in time.

"Bloody hell, are you trying to kill me?" you huffed, straightening up.

Harry crossed his arms. "You’re supposed to block it."

"Maybe I would if you didn’t have a personal vendetta against me!"

That made him freeze.

"What?"

You let out a frustrate sigh. "You treat me like I’m some sort of pest, but I don’t even know what I did to deserve it!"

He looked away, his jaw tight.

"Forget it," you muttered. "Let’s just get this over with."

But the damage had already been done. The tension between you didn’t disappear—it only grew stronger.

And then, something strange started happening.

Harry still kept his distance, still avoided unnecessary interaction, but sometimes—just sometimes—you caught him watching you. When you answered questions in class, when you laughed with your friends, when you sat quietly reading a book. His gaze would linger a second too long before he turned away, as if he was catching himself.

And then, one day in the library, everything changed.

You were looking through spellbooks when a group of Slytherins passed by, throwing out snide remarks.

"Surprised you haven’t given up yet," one sneered. "Everyone knows Hufflepuffs are useless in a fight."

You clenched your jaw, ignoring them. But before they could walk away, another voice cut in.

"At least she actually fights instead of hiding behind her daddy’s money."

Your eyes widened.

Harry stood beside you, glaring at the Slytherins with the kind of intensity that sent them scurrying away without another word.

You turned to him, completely stunned. "Did you just… defend me?"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "They were being prats."

"But you hate me."

His expression faltered. "I don’t—" He exhaled sharply. "I don’t hate you, okay?"

You crossed your arms. "Then why have you been treating me like I murdered your owl?"

He looked away, guilt creeping into his features. He was silent for so long that you thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then, finally, in a voice so quiet you barely heard it, he said, "Because you’re nice to me."

You blinked. "That’s why you’ve been avoiding me? Because I’m nice?"

His hands clenched at his sides. "Because I don’t deserve it."

And suddenly, it all made sense.

This wasn’t about you.

This was about him. About the weight of the world on his shoulders, the people he had lost, the battles he had fought. You had been offering something safe—something he didn’t know how to handle.

And that terrified him.

From that moment on, things changed. He stopped snapping at you. He stopped looking for excuses to ignore you. He even started talking to you—real conversations, not just one-word responses. And then, one evening in the Room of Requirement, everything shifted again.

You had stayed behind after practice, absentmindedly tracing patterns in the air with your wand.

"You’re always the last one to leave," Harry observed, standing by the door.

You glanced at him. "So are you."

He exhaled, stepping closer. "It’s quiet. Peaceful."

You nodded. "Yeah."

A beat of silence.

Then, Harry murmured, "I think I was scared."

You turned to him. "Of what?"

His gaze was intense, vulnerable. "Of you."

Your heart pounded. "Harry—"

"You make things feel… safe," he admitted. "And I don’t know how to deal with that."

You swallowed hard. "So, what now?"

His lips twitched slightly. "You tell me."

The distance between you disappeared in an instant.

He hesitated only for a moment before reaching out, fingers ghosting over your cheek, then slipping into your hair. His eyes flickered to your lips before meeting your gaze again, silently asking for permission.

You answered by closing the space between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was soft, hesitant, and filled with all the emotions neither of you had spoken out loud.

When you finally pulled away, he exhaled a shaky breath.

"Merlin," he muttered. "That was—"

"Long overdue," you finished for him.

He huffed a quiet laugh, resting his forehead against yours. "Yeah. That."

It wasn’t easy, loving Harry Potter.

He was stubborn. Reckless. Infuriating.

But he was also kind. Brave. Full of more love than he realized.

And when he finally stopped fighting it—stopped fighting you—you saw it in every touch, every glance, every whispered "be careful" before a battle.

Because Harry Potter might have hated you once.

But now?

Now, he loved you.

And that was a fight he would never run from again.

#reader #x reader #y/n #f!reader #hufflepuff x gryffindor #hogwarts #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #harry potter x you #harry potter x reader #harry potter #x female reader #female reader #hufflepuff #gryffindor #x teen!reader

44 notes · View notes

rottenherbs · 12 hours ago

Text

Love Within the Forrest

Pairing: F.W x Ravenclaw! Reader Summary: A rule-following Ravenclaw finds herself swept up in Fred Weasley’s spontaneous adventure into the Forbidden Forest, where laughter, rain, and a little hand-holding lead to something unexpectedly magical. W/C: 3.5k A/N: CUTEEE. I almost did like a secret picnic in the Forrest but this seemed more on a whim romantic — i apologize for my love and over use of italics [masterlist] Much love, Saige

Fred Weasley had a habit of sneaking into your life like a well-placed prank—unexpected, disarming, and impossible to ignore.

It started with small things. A teasing comment as he passed you in the corridors. A stolen seat beside you in the Great Hall. A ridiculous joke whispered in the middle of class, just to see if he could get you to laugh.

At first, you had rolled your eyes at his antics, dismissing them as nothing more than Fred being Fred. But then the teasing had become something softer. The stolen seats turned into casual conversations that stretched on longer than they should. And the jokes? Well, they still made you roll your eyes—but they also made you smile.

You weren’t sure when the lines blurred between friendship and something else, but they had. And lately, you found yourself waiting for those moments, for the warmth in his gaze, for the way his fingers would brush against yours just a little longer than necessary.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything.

But Fred had other ideas.

---

“You know, love, I think you secretly like me.”

You glance up from your book, unimpressed. Fred is sprawled across the library table in front of you, completely unbothered by the glares from Madam Pince. His tie is loose, his sleeves pushed up, and his usual grin is firmly in place.

You raise an eyebrow. “What makes you think that?”

“The fact that you haven’t hexed me for interrupting your studying. That’s got to count for something.”

You smirk, closing your book with deliberate slowness. “Maybe I’m just plotting something worse than a hex.”

Fred gasps, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. “Cruel! And here I thought we had something special.”

You shake your head, but the smile playing at your lips betrays you. “Fred, why are you really here?”

His expression shifts, just slightly—still playful, but there’s something else beneath it now. Something softer.

“I think you need a break.”

You huff. “I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

You cross your arms, and he leans in, resting his chin in his hand as he studies you. “You know, for someone so brilliant, you’re absolute rubbish at having fun.”

You roll your eyes. “Not this again.”

“Yes, this again.” He grins. “And lucky for you, I’ve decided to take on the noble mission of teaching you.”

You narrow your eyes, but he just wiggles his eyebrows.

Then, as if the universe is conspiring with him, a distant rumble of thunder shakes the castle walls. The rain outside begins to pick up, a steady drumming against the windows.

Fred glances at the storm, then back at you, and his smirk widens.

“Perfect.”

You give him a wary look. “Perfect for what?”

“For a bit of living.”

Before you can protest, he’s on his feet, offering his hand.

You hesitate.

Fred watches you closely, the usual mischief in his eyes tempered by something gentler. “Trust me?”

And somehow, against all logic—

You do.

With a sigh, you place your hand in his.

Fred doesn’t hesitate.

His fingers wrap around yours, warm and solid, and then you’re running.

Fred leads you through the castle with a determined kind of excitement, his grip firm but not forceful. Every time you hesitate, his thumb brushes absentmindedly over the back of your hand, like a silent reassurance that you can trust him.

And the worst part? It works.

The storm rages outside, the rain pounding against the tall windows as lightning streaks across the sky. You pass more students in the corridors, their heads turning as Fred pulls you along, grinning like a man on a mission.

“Everyone is staring,” you murmur, trying to ignore the way your face feels like it’s on fire.

Fred glances over his shoulder, completely unfazed. “That’s because you’re holding my hand, love.”

Your breath catches. He says it so casually, like it’s just a simple fact, like it doesn’t mean anything. But it does—at least to you. And maybe, maybe to him, too.

Before you can think too much about it, Fred slows to a stop, turning to face you. His hair is already a little damp from the misty air, the ends curling slightly, and there’s a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“Alright,” he says, still holding your hand. “Time for a shortcut.”

You barely have time to ask what he means before he’s pulling you into a dimly lit passageway behind a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. The space is narrow, the walls closing in slightly as the two of you squeeze through.

It would be fine.

Really, it would.

Except that you’re still holding hands, and suddenly, you’re pressed closer than you have ever been to Fred Weasley.

You can feel the warmth of him even through your damp robes, the scent of something undeniably *him*—cinnamon, something sweet, something warm—wrapping around you. Your heart stumbles over itself as you glance up, only to realize he’s already looking at you.

Fred’s smirk softens just slightly, his eyes flickering over your face like he’s memorizing something.

“Blushing already?” he teases, voice quieter now, lower.

You scoff, though it lacks any real conviction. “It’s warm in here.”

Fred chuckles, but he doesn’t call you out on the lie. Instead, his free hand comes up, his knuckles brushing against your cheek—so light, so fleeting, you almost think you imagined it.

Your breath catches.

And then—

“We’re here,” he says, stepping back like nothing happened, like he didn’t just steal the air from your lungs.

The passage opens into a small tower landing, the wind howling through the stone archways. You step forward, blinking against the sudden brightness as lightning flashes across the sky. The storm is alive up here, the rain sweeping across the open space, the castle grounds stretching endlessly below.

Fred turns to you, eyes shining. “Told you it was the best place to watch a storm.”

You shake your head, but you can’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he says, stepping closer, his voice dipping into something almost dangerous, “you’re still here.”

You don’t know who moves first—if he leans in or if you do. But suddenly, you’re close again, and the space between you is so small it barely exists.

The rain starts to blow in through the arches, dampening your robes, catching in your hair. You shiver slightly, and Fred immediately shrugs off his cloak, wrapping it around your shoulders without a second thought.

“Can’t have you freezing, now, can we?” he murmurs, fingers lingering at your collar.

You swallow hard, your hands clutching the edges of the cloak to keep them from shaking. “Fred—”

Another crack of thunder shakes the tower.

And then, before you can think, before you can second-guess—

Fred grabs your hand again.

“Come on.”

This time, he doesn’t run.

He sprints.

You barely have a moment to react before you’re being pulled into the rain, the icy drops soaking through your clothes as Fred laughs—a loud, joyful sound that echoes through the open air.

You gasp at the cold, but Fred just spins you, hands gripping yours, eyes locked onto you like you’re the best part of the storm.

Your hair clings to your face, rain dripping down your cheeks, but you don’t care.

Because you’re laughing.

You’re laughing, and you can’t remember the last time you felt this alive.

Fred’s eyes soften as he watches you, his hands still wrapped around yours. “That’s the look I was hoping for.”

You blink up at him, breathless. “What look?”

“Like you just found magic outside of books.”

Your heart stumbles over itself. The storm rages on around you, but all you can hear is him.

Before you can think too hard about it, before fear can creep in—

You squeeze his hands.

And Fred Weasley grins like he’s won something.

Fred’s grip tightens around yours as he pulls you down the winding staircase, out of the tower, and into the open air. The cold air rushes against your damp skin, the rain pouring heavier now, drenching you both completely. But instead of shivering, instead of protesting, you laugh.

It bubbles out of you, unfiltered and raw, carried away by the wind.

Fred looks over at you, his eyes crinkling with something soft, something undeniably fond. “See?” he shouts over the storm. “Not so bad, is it?”

You shake your head, rain streaming down your face. “It’s mad!”

“Exactly!” He grins, tugging you along the slick grass, dodging puddles with an ease that only comes from years of mischief. “What’s the point of living if you don’t go a little mad every once in a while?”

You don’t have an answer. Not because you don’t want one, but because—for the first time in your life—you’re starting to think he’s right.

The castle looms behind you, warm and golden in contrast to the storm. But Fred doesn’t slow. Instead, he glances sideways at you, mischief gleaming in his rain-soaked lashes.

“If you really want an adventure,” he calls, breathless, “we could take this a step further.”

You narrow your eyes at him, still running. “What are you planning?”

His smirk is positively dangerous.

And then you see where he’s leading you.

The Forbidden Forest.

Your heart lurches as the shadowy treeline comes into view, dark and swaying under the weight of the storm. The rain makes it look even more foreboding, the trees looming like silent sentinels.

Fred slows slightly, still gripping your hand, still grinning. “What do you say?” he asks, voice playful but laced with something else—something daring. “You wanted an adventure, didn’t you?”

You skid to a stop just before the edge of the trees, your chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. The rain hammers against the leaves, dripping heavily from the branches, and for a long moment, all you can do is stare into the darkness beyond.

Fred steps closer, watching you carefully, his thumb idly brushing against your hand. “We don’t have to,” he says, and for the first time tonight, there’s no teasing in his voice—just quiet reassurance.

You swallow hard, heart hammering.

Every instinct in you, every rule-following, well-behaved part of your mind is screaming no.

But then you look at Fred.

He’s standing there, soaked to the bone, eyes bright with something wild and alive. His hand is warm in yours despite the rain, steady despite the chaos.

And maybe it’s the adrenaline, or maybe it’s just him—but something inside you shifts.

You exhale, grip tightening slightly. “You’ll keep me safe?”

Fred’s expression softens, the storm forgotten between you. “Always.”

And just like that, the last of your hesitation melts away.

With one final glance at the castle—one final moment of who you were—you take a step forward.

And Fred Weasley, grinning like you’ve just given him the best gift in the world, pulls you into the dark.

————

The moment you step past the tree line, the storm seems to soften. The thick canopy above catches most of the rain, breaking it into light drips that patter against the leaves. The forest is alive, breathing with the scent of damp earth and fresh rain.

Fred still holds your hand, his fingers warm despite the chill, though now his grip is looser, more relaxed. He watches you out of the corner of his eye, as if waiting for any sign of hesitation.

But to your own surprise—you’re not hesitating at all.

It’s different here. The wild hum of the storm fades into something gentler, something almost magical.

You pause for a moment, tilting your head up. The rain clings to the branches in delicate beads, dripping slowly onto moss-covered ground. Everything glows, like the whole forest is wrapped in glass. Even the air feels clearer, crisper.

Fred lets out a low whistle beside you. “Blimey,” he murmurs. “Would you look at that?”

You follow his gaze.

The trees, ancient and tall, shimmer under the weight of the fading storm. Droplets cling to every leaf, reflecting the soft midday light like tiny jewels. Spiderwebs between branches hold dewdrops like strings of diamonds, and the ground is covered in small puddles, each one rippling as the last few raindrops fall.

It’s breathtaking.

For a long moment, neither of you say anything. The Forbidden Forest has never felt like this before—no longer a place of whispered warnings and forbidden dangers, but something alive. Something untouched, something waiting.

Fred exhales beside you, running a hand through his dripping hair. “Alright,” he says, “I might have only brought us here for a laugh, but—” He gestures vaguely at the glistening trees, the glowing mist that still clings to the ground. “—I think we just walked straight into a bloody fairytale.”

You smile, shaking your head. “Hardly seems forbidden when it looks like this.”

He hums in agreement, then looks at you with that dangerous glint in his eye again. “Think we should keep going?”

You hesitate, but not because you’re afraid. The part of you that would have insisted on turning back is quiet now, overwhelmed by the beauty around you.

Fred tilts his head, watching you carefully. “No pressure, love. We can head back if you want.”

You bite your lip, looking between him and the path ahead.

Then, feeling bold, you lift your chin. “Just a little further.”

Fred’s grin is instant, full of delight. “Merlin, I knew there was an adventurer in you somewhere.”

He takes your hand again—not pulling this time, just holding—and together, you step deeper into the glowing forest.

————

The deeper you go, the quieter everything becomes. Not eerily so—just peaceful, like the world is holding its breath. The rain has nearly stopped, leaving only the occasional drop slipping from leaf to leaf before landing softly on the forest floor.

Fred walks beside you now instead of leading, his hand still wrapped around yours, warm and steady. He swings your hands slightly as you walk, like this is all perfectly normal, like this isn’t the first time you’ve willingly stepped into the unknown with him.

“Alright, tell me the truth,” he says, breaking the silence. “You’re not actually a rule-following, library-dwelling Ravenclaw, are you? You’ve been secretly waiting for me to drag you into trouble all this time.”

You scoff, but you’re smiling. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” He quirks an eyebrow, nudging you lightly with his shoulder. “Because you don’t look like someone regretting a single thing right now.”

You don’t. You know you don’t.

Fred watches you, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips, and Merlin, does he know what he’s doing. He slows his pace slightly, giving you more space to take it all in. The forest is still glowing with the remnants of the storm, the mist clinging to the air, the trees standing tall like they’ve been waiting for you both to come along.

You turn in a slow circle, taking in every shimmering detail. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this,” you admit, voice quieter now.

Fred hums, tilting his head as he studies you. “That’s a shame.”

You glance at him, brow furrowing. “Why?”

“Because,” he says, softer now, “you should see more things that make you look like this.”

Your breath catches.

You don’t even know what you look like, but the way he says it—the way he’s looking at you—makes your pulse stutter. His eyes are warmer than they’ve ever been, no teasing smirk, no mischievous glint. Just genuine—like he means it, like he wants this for you.

You turn away before your face can betray you, pretending to focus on the trail ahead.

Fred doesn’t let go of your hand.

The forest shifts as you walk, the path widening slightly. A small clearing opens up ahead, bathed in soft golden light filtering through the branches. There’s an old fallen log near the center, its surface covered in moss, and a patch of tiny blue flowers blooming in the damp earth beside it.

Fred tugs you toward it. “Here,” he says, sitting on the log and patting the space beside him.

You hesitate—not because you don’t *want* to, but because something about this moment feels… different.

Not reckless. Not chaotic. Just *yours*.

You lower yourself onto the log, and for a while, neither of you speak. The quiet hum of the forest fills the space between you—the drip of water onto leaves, the distant rustle of branches shifting in the breeze.

Fred leans back on his hands, tilting his face up to the canopy above. “You know,” he muses, “if someone had told me this morning that I’d be sitting in the Forbidden Forest in the rain with you, I’d have called them mad.”

You scoff, nudging his knee with yours. “I could say the same. You do know I planned to spend my evening studying, right?”

He grins, turning his head to face you. “Yeah, well. Look at you now.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t fight your smile.

Fred watches you for a moment longer, then shifts slightly, resting his elbow on his knee as he leans closer. “So,” he says, “what do you reckon? Worth breaking the rules for?”

You exhale, looking around again at the glistening trees, the dew-covered flowers, the quiet magic in the air.

Then, without hesitation—

“Yes.”

Fred’s grin is slow, spreading across his face like a sunrise. He lifts your joined hands between you, brushing his thumb over your knuckles in a way that makes your heart *trip* over itself.

“Well, then,” he murmurs, voice soft and warm. “Guess I’ll have to find more rules for you to break.”

And for the first time in your life—

You want him too.

You stretch your legs out in front of you, hands braced against the log as you let yourself breathe—really breathe—in this quiet, enchanted world. The rain has nearly stopped now, leaving behind only glistening leaves and the scent of damp earth. The storm has passed, but something lingers in its wake.

Something warm. Something new.

You turn to Fred, who’s still watching you with that insufferably pleased expression, like he’s just won a bet you didn’t even know you made. He hasn’t let go of your hand, and now that you’ve noticed, you have no intention of letting it slip away.

Instead, you shift, adjusting your grip so your fingers lace more deliberately through his. His eyebrows lift slightly, like he wasn’t expecting it—but he doesn’t protest. If anything, his grip tightens just a bit, like he’s afraid you’ll change your mind.

You won’t.

“Alright, Weasley,” you say, giving his hand a squeeze before standing. “I suppose we should start heading back before someone sends a search party.”

Fred groans dramatically but rises to his feet, tugging you a little closer in the process. “Fine,” he sighs, “but only because I do have a bit of an appetite for supper.”

You hum, turning with him as you both start back toward the castle. The walk is easier now, the fear of the unknown having melted away into something familiar, something almost comfortable.

Your fingers are still entwined, swinging slightly between you as you navigate the damp trail. The air feels lighter, the quiet hum of the forest wrapping around you like an old friend.

Then, with a sideways glance and a smirk creeping onto your lips, you murmur, “Seems like you’ve wanted to hold my hand this whole time.”

Fred stumbles.

It’s barely noticeable, but you notice. His step falters for just a second, his grip on your hand momentarily tightening as he turns to you with wide eyes—before narrowing them.

“Oh, now you’re getting cheeky,” he says, recovering quickly, though the corner of his mouth twitches. “Next thing I know, you’ll be pulling me into adventures.”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Maybe.”

Fred slows his steps, looking at you fully now, like he’s re-evaluating everything he thought he knew about you. Then, to your utter delight, he lets out a soft, breathy laugh.

“Merlin’s beard,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I’ve created a monster.”

You grin, feeling something light and warm bloom in your chest. “You love it.”

Fred stops walking entirely, and before you can question it, he tugs you—gently but suddenly—closer. Your breath catches as you find yourself inches from him, your joined hands now pressed between you.

His voice is softer now, his usual mischief tempered with something deeper. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I really think I do.”

For a moment, you can’t breathe.

Then, before you can process what’s happening, Fred steps back, resuming your walk as if nothing happened. As if he didn’t just send your heart into an absolute tailspin.

You exhale, regaining your footing, and after a beat, you tighten your grip on his hand, matching his pace.

The castle lights are glowing in the distance, warm and inviting. Supper is waiting. The world is returning to normal.

But you?

You’re not sure you want things to go back to normal.

Not now.

Not when you’ve just discovered a whole different kind of magic—one that has nothing to do with books or spells.

And everything to do with Fred Weasley.

20 notes · View notes

myjealouseyes · 16 hours ago

Text

Harry with his anxious!shy!girlfriend.

Since Harry is very obsessed with you and is in tune with everything you do, he can’t help but notice how cautious of every little thing. Constantly rethinking and over thinking everything you say, what you do , what you wear, etc…So he makes it a habit to affirm you. Questioning your outfit choices? Says you look perfect before you even look in the mirror. Overthinking a social interaction? Makes sure to tell you have interesting whatever you said was.

Always using his most even and calm tone of voice with you. Because you get very anxious when someone’s tone is even a little bit off. So even in arguments he would just always try to remain at the same level of volume.

The best at knowing when you’re overwhelmed and you need to take a break in public. Will pull you to a private corner, or straight up take you home if needed.

Always keeps fidget toys around for you. Will let you play with his fingers if you need to! And if he catches you biting at your lip too roughly or picking at your skin he’ll try to redirect you.

Very indiscreetly glares at people when they try to poke fun at you.

Buys you weighted objects and blankets all the time. (Because what else would he do with his money? Duh.)

#I may or may not have penned a shy!reader fic earlier #harry potter x y/n #harry james potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry james potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter oneshot #harry potter imagine #harry james potter x shy!reader #harry james potter x fem!reader #harry james potter x y/n #harry james potter x you #harry james potter

31 notes · View notes

rainydayathogwarts · 3 days ago

Text

concussions and interruptions au

ˋ°•*⁀➷ navigation

꩜ smut ❀ fluff 𖤓 angsty/angry 𖤐 funny

synopsis: when you accidentally meet harry's parents for the first time, they quickly learn that you're a very sweet girl, but you have a very complicated family. slytherin!reader

✩ concussions and interruptions - You aren’t expecting to meet Harry’s parents for the first time while you share an intimate moment in the hospital wing after he sustains another quidditch injury (❀𖤐)

✩ after curfew - you and harry seem to forget his godfather is doing rounds when you sneak out after curfew (❀𖤐)

✩ it's a date - when harry and his parents see you in diagon alley, they are surprised to see the sudden change in behaviour you have at your parents' presence. but that won't stop harry from getting his kiss. COMING SOON!

✩ heavy dresses, tight corsets - in the guise of having a sleepover with daphne, you go over to harry's house, where you can finally take this stupid dress off. COMING SOON!

✩ people are watching - it seems that you begin to care less and less who gets to see the true side of your parents. and apparently, so do they. COMING SOON!

#rainydayathogwarts #harry potter #rainydayathogwarts masterlists #alternate universe #harry potter headcanon #harry potter angst #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter smut #harry potter oneshot #harry potter x reader

502 notes · View notes

yrluvjane · 2 days ago

Note

Part 2 of dbf!James Potter!!!!!!!! Pleaseeeeeeee

i'm sorry! for being so late!

James Potter had always been good at pretending.

Pretending he wasn’t haunted by the ghost of his failed marriage.

Pretending he didn’t miss the sound of Harry’s laughter echoing through the halls of his too-quiet house. Pretending, most of all, that the way his pulse jumped when you smiled at him was just… gratitude. Nothing more.

But tonight, standing in your dimly lit kitchen with soap suds clinging to his wrists and your shoulder brushing against his as you dried the dishes, the pretense was crumbling.

"You missed a spot," you murmured, reaching past him to swipe your thumb along the rim of a glass he’d just washed. Your fingers grazed his, deliberate and slow.

James swallowed hard. Merlin, when had you gotten so bold?

"Distracted," he admitted, voice rough.

"By what?" You turned to face him fully, leaning back against the counter with that infuriatingly knowing look—the one that made him feel like you could see straight through him.

By you.

The words lodged in his throat. This was dangerous territory. You were his best mate’s daughter, for fuck’s sake. He’d changed your nappies. Taught you to fly a broomstick. Watched you grow up.

But the woman in front of him now—with her sharp wit and softer curves, the way your lips quirked when you teased him—wasn’t a child anymore.

"James?" You tilted your head, and the lamplight caught the gold in your eyes.

He should’ve stepped back. Should’ve made a joke. Should’ve done anything except what he did next.

His hand found your waist.

Your breath hitched.

For one suspended moment, the world narrowed to the space between you—the heat of your body, the hitch in your breathing, the way your lashes fluttered when his thumb brushed the sliver of skin where your shirt had ridden up.

Then—

The front door slammed.

"Sorry I’m late!" Your father’s voice boomed through the house, followed by the clatter of keys hitting the table. "Traffic was a nightmare by Diagon—"

James jerked away like he’d been burned.

Your father froze in the kitchen doorway, taking in the scene: James’s flushed face, your white-knuckled grip on the dishtowel, the charged silence thick enough to choke on.

A beat. Two.

Then—

"Merlin’s beard, James," your dad sighed, rubbing his temples. "If you’re going to eye-fuck my daughter, at least have the decency to do it when I’m not here."

James choked on air.

You burst out laughing, the tension shattering like glass. "Subtlety was never your strong suit, Dad."

"Neither was patience," your father grumbled, but there was no real anger in it as he shoved past you both to raid the fridge. "Just—christ, talk about it like adults, yeah? And Prongs?" He paused, leveling James with a look that had once made dark wizards piss themselves. "You break her heart, I break your kneecaps."

James opened his mouth. Closed it.

You smirked, plucking the last glass from his numb fingers. "Well," you murmured, low enough that only he could hear, "guess we’ve got permission."

And just like that, the last of James’s resistance crumbled.

Because the truth was simple:

He was tired of pretending.

(And if the way you bit your lip when he dragged you into the garden ten minutes later was any indication—so were you.)

#should i do a part 3?#marauders era #james potter #james potter x reader #harry potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #harry potter #james potter drabble #james potter fluff #james potter blurb

91 notes · View notes

saintfaux · 1 year ago

Text

81K notes · View notes

theodoresdoll · 2 days ago

Text

♡ KNIGHT!THEODORE

KNIGHT!THEODORE WHO… noticed his feelings for you when he was merely sixteen, your kindness for the people of your kingdom was a stark contrast to your father’s harsh treatment.

KNIGHT!THEODORE WHO… became a knight at twenty-one after years in training, assigned the duty of protecting you at all costs. And so, in most cases, he stands glued by your side, his hand always on the hilt of his sword as a silent threat to ward off any lurking danger.

KNIGHT!THEODORE WHO… is tragically in love with a woman he can never have. A woman whose father would have his head for even touching her. He is aware of his unfortunate circumstance, so he keeps his feelings buried away where no one shall ever find them.

♡ feel free to send requests. all characters are aged up to 18. MDNI.

♡ not historically accurate and doesn’t belong to a specific timeline.

♡ reblogs are appreciated but not necessary.

56 notes · View notes

ma1dita · 1 day ago

Text

food for thought

'between certainties and doubts' installment part of the mean!remus agenda, aka a moment from a terrifyingly convoluted teenage situationship between remus lupin and an unidentified Hogwarts student (x fem!reader) wc: 1.6k a/n: you've been a permanent fixture in the lupin household this summer. 4am post as god intended. internal kinda angst with a bit of domesticity but remus ruins it as per usual. unresolved feelings. feel free to send requests and share treacherous situationship experiences we can write for them

—

You’ve come to realize that dinners at the Lupin household were nothing of the traditional sort.

Most of the time, it would be you and Remus fending for yourselves in the kitchen, scraping together something semi-edible with your guidance—the meal being something of a DIY project that may lack in presentation but makes up in taste (mostly). Or you two would stop by a drive-thru on the way back from whatever trouble you got into for the day, a soggy brown paper bag with a hand on each end and a flat soda half drunk by her only son. Remus elected to take the long way home each time—the two of you would muddy her doorstep wearing matching smiles, rumpled clothes, and smelling of the sun.

Remus was always a good help in the kitchen when he put effort in, but Merlin—that boy cannot cook for the life of him, much to his mother’s disappointment. By mid-July, she’d written you a recipe book during downtime at her insurance job in hopes of getting her son to eat more (and having you be a permanent fixture in their lives). So whether she came home to slightly charred chicken and potatoes or a deluxe meal from McDonald’s, Hope Lupin was thrilled to have you in her home and keeping her son company.

He’d never tell his mum this, but Remus loved the days he’d get to eat at your grandma’s house, though—there were always an assortment of sweet treats and hearty stews that he’d lug home in a Tupperware, buckled into the passenger seat that secretly bears your name. He’d think of you the whole drive home, a silly smile on his face, and his heart beating a bit faster than he would like. And his mum would eat it without question—heart and stomach warmed in gratitude, even if Remus would lie to her face every time and say it was his creation.

But tonight, things were more out of the ordinary—his father was home from working at the Ministry, at a reasonable hour at that. And Lyall Lupin found himself out of place at the new arrangement of his own dinner table. Remus occupies his usual seat at the head of the small wooden table, across from his mother, spooning the bolognese onto your bowl first, before his own, as Lyall observes the scene. He’s sitting across from you, taking in the expanse of your face and watching his son’s hand fall underneath the table with such nonchalance, scooting your chair closer to his with no words. You squeeze his forearm in thanks before standing up to grab the pitcher of juice and pouring everyone a cup, a tiny smile on your face.

“Thank you, love. You’re Winona’s girl, aren’t ya? My—a splitting image of your father! Bet she was mad at that,” his father chuckles, eyes falling to the place setting on the table. They don’t take these mats out unless there’s important company. When he looks at his wife, she winks, shrugging her shoulders as if it’s nothing of the sort.

“Oh, terribly so, Mr. Lupin. Didn’t get much luck with my other siblings either,” you grin. Remus raises his eyebrows—there’s more of you in the world, and more he hadn’t asked you about.

Life outside the bubble you’ve created this summer, slowly coming to an end. His dad clears his throat, and Remus sips at his juice while his other hand rests on your thigh, drawing shapes into your skin. Without even trying, you fit right into this odd dynamic, down to the space you’ve carved out for yourself at the dinner table.

“Lyall, hun. I knew you when you were a wee thing, coming to visit the office with your dad and crawling up under the desks!”

You gasp, and without thinking, you squeeze Remus’ hand even as it’s out of sight, “Lyall, Lyall, CROCODILE! You used to charm your shoes to chomp at my fingers when I’d be pestering you too much!” Watching you two giggling now over a memory he doesn’t share, Remus looks at you with both fondness and…discomfort? He’d never known his dad to be so playful, and knew much less of this side of him as a little boy. Work had always kept him away from home, especially after the incident.

“RJ, son—now you know how to keep this one on her toes!” he chuckles, sending his house slippers to chase after your ankles with charmed teeth, slobber flying into the air as you squeal. Remus wraps his arms around your legs, resting them onto his lap as you giggle. While you watch the magic eat away at the bottom of the tablecloth in mild amusement, he looks at his father with a warning glance over the top of your head.

Lyall shrugs, raising an eyebrow at your proximity. It seems that even if he spends the rest of his life advocating for his son, there’s still a lot to learn about him.

—

“Does she know?” his dad mutters later as he washes the dishes. His son dries them—it’s their routine as both Lupin men prove to be useless at cooking, so Hope appoints them to clean while she chats with you over some tea in front of the telly.

“No. Of course not, I’m not stupid.”

The chipped ceramic makes its way over from under the faucet, exchanging hands as Remus rubs at a spot his dad missed with the terry cloth towel. Lyall soaps the pitcher, scrubbing at the sticky residue the juice has left behind as he murmur, “Might be alright, considering her family. Good people to get involved with. You and her make a good pair, son.” The fork that Remus was drying clatters against the bottom of the sink with a rattle.

“Tad, this isn’t that!” “Isn’t what, RJ?” the older man chuckles. In the silence that follows, they listen to you and Hope cackling over a silly commercial that’s come on the screen. Lyall’s the only one that realizes that both him and his son are smiling at the sound, “Think you ought to clear that up with her then.”

Remus’ smile drops as he registers it.

“Why would you say that?” he stammers, and it sounds like an accusation. The truth is that he already knows—it’s the topic he’s been trying to avoid with you all summer.

Putting a label on this makes it real.

But who is he kidding.

Even without one, he knows it is what it is.

Even the end of summer can’t stop reality from crashing in, much less dampen the feeling he gets when you meet him in the doorway and he slings his jacket over your shoulders.

There is no undoing the lines that have been blurred, and no erasing the weight of what your time together has developed into, heavy, like his hand in yours as he walks you home an hour later.

Still lost in thought, he swings your arms between you as you make your way down the hill together.

“You’ve got that look on your face,” you hum, thumb rubbing against the scars that run across his knuckles.

“S’just my face, lovely,” he nuzzles against your temple, placing a kiss so quick you could imagine it as a brush of the evening wind.

“No, no… I look at your face too much to dumb it down to that.”

“Like what you see?” he teases, and you tug him closer with a jerk of the hand.

“I do,” you giggle, bringing your intertwined fingers up to your lips, “Now that I’ve fed your ego, tell me what you’re thinking of.”

Wind swirls against the leaves of the trees tonight, making a symphony only the two of you will be able to memorize.

You know what’s coming. Term starts next week, and the two of you are heading into Diagon Alley together on Thursday before you head back home. This feels like the talk. You let him compose his thoughts, and finally, he speaks when you both reach your grandma’s driveway.

“My parents really like you. They might like you as much as I do,” he says breathily, wrapping his arms around your hips, “Whatever shall we do with that?”

A smirk pulls at your lips, and he resists the urge to kiss it.

“Godric forbid someone like me more than you do, Remus Lupin.”

He shakes his head, looking up at the sky for patience, before pressing his nose against yours—his eyelashes flutter rapidly, and you curse whoever made it so that boys get pretty eyelashes, because you can’t dare look away from his blown-out pupils.

You like this game, wondering who will kiss whom first. This time, as he looks at you like he could love you outside of the boundaries of this dreary town in Wales, you give in first, pulling him in by the collar of his faded t-shirt and smiling against his lips. Remus licks up your affection, making it known how he feels through the exchange of short breaths and softness beyond recognition. Even now, he’s still not used to it—the taste of your chapstick and of a certainty he only feels when his lips are on yours, that this could work.

His hands travel up along your spine as you moan against him, catching a breath and falling against his mouth once more like the ebb and flow of ocean tides. It ends with a smile, and you keep your eyes closed for a moment longer to savor it.

And then he speaks.

“I just wish I could keep you to myself. Wish we could stay here forever instead.”

You open your eyes and Remus still looks breathless, less sure now than he was when he was making out with you moments ago.

“Well lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, almost contemplative, and maybe even a bit worried as he teeters on his heels, cradling your face in his hands, “Lucky me.”

—

i don't do taglists anymore! follow @ma1dita-mail & turn on post notifs 🤍

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#remus lupin x angst #remus lupin x reader angst #remus lupin x y/n #marauders x reader #remus lupin x you #marauders era #harry potter x reader #remus lupin fanfic #mean!remus

24 notes · View notes