#Moving into Number Seven Privet Drive

[momo-t-daye]

“Uh, Professor, er, sir,” Harry stumbled over the seldom-used honorifics in his bafflement. “Uh, on your mouth…?”

“Lipstick, Potter,” Snape sneered, the expression all the more pronounced with the cosmetic assistance.

“Oh, uh, it’s, um, it’s black?” Harry hadn’t known lipstick came in anything other than his aunt’s subdued pinks or the vivid shades of red that Petunia considered sinful and salacious (and intolerably reminiscent of Lily to ever be permitted back into the precariously normal life of Number Four, Privet Drive).

“Very good, Potter,” Snape said sarcastically. “Twelve years old and you’ve learned your colors.”

That was pure nastiness and entirely unfair.

“I’m fifteen!”  Harry protested, which earned him a merely sardonic eyebrow. “Almost fifteen,” he amended.  “I’ll be fifteen on Monday.”

Harry longed to surpass Snape in sheer churlishness and considered pointing out that muggle men generally didn’t wear skirts.  Certainly not in Little Whinging.  Definitely not when Dudley and his gang were roaming the streets.

He’d seen plenty of oblivious wizards sporting spiffy new dresses as their muggle disguises at the Quidditch World Cup the previous summer (a lifetime ago, before Cedric was murdered and he hadn’t been able to stop it from happening).  But there was something peculiarly well-tailored and suspiciously well-worn about the Potions Master’s garb that suggested less “disguise” and more “daily wear”. He found that his brain was oddly unwilling to acknowledge the existence of Snape’s psychedelic cardigan. His mind kept trying desperately to wallpaper something sensible over the bizarre image his eyes insisted on perceiving.

“…nice skirt,” he mumbled.

“Thanks,” Snape drawled the false gratitude out with a smirk. “It has pockets.  Dipshit and Dumbass there were too excited to get on the road this morning and didn’t give me any time to do laundry.”

“Am I ‘Dipshit’ or am I ‘Dumbass’?” Sirius whispered loudly, grin gone well past manic.

“I believe Severus called me a ‘dipshit’ among other things for forgetting to take my Wolfsbane last year,” Remus replied thoughtfully, “So, Sirius, that probably makes you the dumbass.”

“I’m more of a hot piece of ass, but okay,” Sirius said with a wink. “Hi, Harry!”

“Hi, Sirius,” Harry said weakly, glad for the excuse to sidle past Snape.  “Uh, what are you doing here?” The Daily Prophet hadn’t said anything about Sirius being pardoned and news like that, while less of an urgent headline than Voldemort’s return, wouldn’t lurk about in the society pages or behind an advice column.

“Dumbledore told me to lie low at Lupin’s place,” Sirius beamed with an innocence so intense it could only be artificial.

“And, er, well, what with one thing and another, it really hadn’t seemed like a good time really to mention that I’d been, ah, evicted,” Lupin added, “…again.”

“Renting really seems like such a bother,” Sirius opined. “So I bought a house for Remus here.”

“Oh,” said Harry, who had witnessed Aunt Petunia compulsively twitching the curtains as she tried to discover how Mrs. Number Seven had eluded neighborly surveillance and, somehow, managed to sell her house to a person or persons unknown to the remaining residents of Privet Drive. “Isn’t that supposed to take a long time?”

“Building a home takes a lifetime,” Sirius said sagely. “Buying a house just takes money.”

Snape’s scornful snort brought Harry’s attention back to the least welcome visitor to Little Whinging.

“So, uh, why did you bring,” Harry gestured vaguely, unsure if the word ‘him’ could accurately encompass the snidest professor present, “Snape?” He’d rather noticed that Snape hadn’t lifted a finger to help Sirius and Lupin move any of the large boxes from the lorry into Number Seven.

“Severus knows how to drive,” Lupin explained gently. Sirius’ mouth opened, prepared to protest.

“Severus,” Lupin repeated, louder this time, “Has a valid muggle license to drive.” Sirius’ subsided.

“And I know how to hot-wire cars and lorries,” Severus added smoothly. “And,” Lupin echoed wearily, “ Severus knows how to ‘hot-wire’ muggle vehicles.”

“I’m learning to do that,” Sirius said helpfully, “I’m going to figure it out too.  I’ve nearly got it.”

“Talk is cheap, Black,” Snape scoffed starting to stroll in the last direction Harry wanted him to go, “I’ll believe you when I see some tangible results.”

“Wait!  Stop!” Harry wondered if he’d get in trouble for tackling a professor outside of Hogwarts.  It would be worth it, to try to alter Snape’s trajectory towards the front door of Number Four.  “Stop, stop, stop!”

For all Harry’s desperate scrambling, Snape maintained his lead.

“Please stop!” Harry begged as the professor hitched up his skirt slightly, “Use the bell!  You don’t have to kick the door in!” Aunt Petunia was probably at the door, surely she’d spied them across the street at Number Seven.

Snape kicked the door, already unlatched in Petunia’s nosy anticipation, open.

Aunt Petunia let out a shrill little scream.

“Hello, Piss-Tuna,” said Severus Snape, far more gleeful than he’d been even when Harry and Ron were facing the threat of expulsion after flying a car into the Whomping Willow. “You look as awful as ever.”

Piss-Tuna, Harry thought as his world tilted on its axis, Snape, Professor Snape, just called my aunt Piss-Tuna.  This can’t be happening.

“You—!” Her face was white, her eyes were wide, and Petunia Dursley, née Evans, practically growled in her outrage.

Harry found himself thinking that Brazil might be a very nice place to live. It was far away from Privet Drive, for a start.  He wondered what it would take to get there.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in, Tuney?” Snape’s foot had blocked the door from closing.  “I’m more than happy to have this confrontation on your front step if you’d prefer.”

“We, ah, brought some biscuits,” Lupin added. “Store bought. Assorted.  With chocolate.  Er, I’m, ah, we’re the new neighbors. So nice to meet you again.”

Petunia goggled at the lot of them.

She also stumbled back, which Snape seemed to take as an unspoken invitation.  Harry found himself dragged along in the professor’s wake, with only Sirius’ hand on his shoulder to steady him in the swift tide of strangeness.

“I can’t believe your taste in interior decoration deteriorated into this level of disgusting kitsch and doilies, Tuna,” said the man who decorated with floating dead things in jars. Severus surveyed the photos on the wall, on the mantle, on the little side table.  So many perfectly posed pictures of a happy family of three- mother, father, son- and a lock on the cupboard under the stairs. Narcissa had been absolutely right.

“Is that my jumper?” Harry jumped.  Petunia’s voice was high and thin and quite peculiar.

“You’ve really done a terrible job of raising Potter,” said Snape, and Harry bristled. Of course Snape wanted to criticize him, Harry had been expecting the criticism, but he loathed the thought of his two biggest critics were now sharing notes and combining forces.

“Not only is he, like the majority of students, a careless menace in the laboratory, but I have also wasted entirely too much of my already limited time deciphering his atrocious penmanship to correct insipid essay after insipid essay only to see the same flawed reasonings repeated week after week.” It was news to Harry that he was supposed to read the sea of spidery red notes Snape deposited on every essay.  It seemed rather unfair, given that Snape could fit five lines of text for every one line Harry wrote. The single “P”, or the occasional and welcome “A”, was more than sufficient in Harry’s view.

“That’s my jumper.” There was a touch of hysteria in Petunia’s tone now.

“He will be taking his O.W.L.s this year, his O-levels if you prefer,” Snape continued, demonstrating more confidence in Harry’s continued survival than Harry typically expected to hear from the Potions Master. “Unfortunately, his current record of scholastic mediocrity, his stubborn refusal to revise, and a peculiar incuriosity about magical theory does not bode well for his continued academic career.”

“You little bastard! That’s my goddamn jumper!” Petunia’s shriek derailed Snape’s momentum.  The unexpected profanity from his aunt made Harry’s brain stutter to a halt.

“Tuna,” Snape frowned, “We’re not here to discuss my sartorial decisions and I will never take wardrobe critique from you.  I only deigned to enter this suburban hellscape to discuss your horrendous failure to raise and parent Mr. Potter.”

“Biscuit, Harry?” Sirius offered, retrieving the tin from Remus.

“You stole my jumper!” Shockingly, Petunia’s epiphany failed to shatter glass.  Yet.

“Didn’t,” sniffed Snape.

“I thought it was Lily who stole my jumper!”

“She did. I just hid it for her.” 

“I bought that jumper myself!  I’d saved up!”

“Yes, I know.”

“It was for an interview!”

“We wanted to spare you the humiliation of being seen in public wearing such a hideous thing.  You even got that position, even if you didn’t keep it for very long.”

The biscuit was rather good, even without tea, and it was beginning to dawn on Harry that Snape and Aunt Petunia were more inclined to tear into one another than join forces against him. He felt oddly inclined to cheer for Professor Snape, despite the ranting about Harry’s scholastic shortcomings. Perhaps it was because Harry knew so little about his mother that every glimpse was a pearl he treasured.

“I want my jumper!” Did she learn that tone from her little Diddykins or had Dudley inherited that petulant demanding pitch from Petunia?

“And I want you to understand how your failure to nourish any academic inclinations Mr. Potter may have shown before the age of eleven may have rather dire consequences for futures beyond his own, but I fear we can’t all get what we want.” Remus handed Harry another biscuit before he could think to protest.

“Give me back my jumper!”

“Fine!” Snape finally snapped, fingers tearing at the buttons in wrathful haste.  “Fine, here!”

Petunia caught the cardigan with her face and a squeak.

Severus Snape looked like a stranger again, in the ratty, oversized band shirt, hair disheveled from the jumper’s passage.  Harry hadn’t seen the Dark Mark his professor had shoved under Minister Fudge’s nose in the Hospital Wing those few weeks ago, and he found himself oddly glad that the mark was concealed under a peculiar leather bracelet with metal studding.  A wand holster, perhaps.

“Are you prepared to face your shortcomings now, Tuney?” That dangerously silky tone was entirely familiar, and Harry took another biscuit before he was told to go serve detention during summer vacation.

“It smells like Cokeworth,” Petunia’s complaint was bitter, for she dreaded the day her neighbors discovered the lingering taint of the Cokeworth streets sullying their Surrey security.

“Hey,” said Sirius, who had gone oddly still.

“I wasn’t going to take it to Hogwarts, was I?” Snape said.  “It’s acrylic, you know that sort of stuff doesn’t hold up around magic.”

“Hey,” said Sirius.  “Hey.” His face was a rictus of delight, as pleased as Petunia had been put out. “Snape. Isn’t that, isn’t that my shirt you’ve got on?”

“Oh, oh,” snarled Severus.  “Not you too!”

[alohaemora]

Day 1: Molly and Arthur

Numbered Days

Seven stories from the long, tense week between Harry’s departure from Little Whinging and Bill and Fleur’s fateful wedding night.

Or: The Weasleys prepare to go to war.

(Written for @thethreebroomsticksfic's “Weasley Week” fest.)

27 July 1997

It’s well past midnight when Arthur finally puts the lights out in their bedroom and crawls into bed beside her with an exhausted groan. His arm reaches for her in the darkness and Molly gravitates toward it, soaking in the small moment of domestic comfort that’s quickly become a rarity in her own home. Closing her eyes, she wonders if the ringing in her ears is simply the hum of the hundreds of protective enchantments that cling to her roof, or if the knot of anxiety that took up permanent residence in her chest sometime near the end of June is now trying to claw its way out through her ear canals.

“Everything’s set,” Arthur mumbles against her shoulder. “The Polyjuice, the decoys, the Portkeys. Hagrid says the Thestrals have been prepped for the journey. We’ll have him safely out of Privet Drive by tonight.”

“Good,” Molly whispers without opening her eyes. “Hopefully he’ll never have to go back.”

Arthur is silent for a few moments. Then, Molly feels the pillows shift slightly as he gives his head a small shake.

“The boys were brilliant in that meeting,” he says quietly. “Fred and George single-handedly charted every one of our flight paths out of Surrey. And Ron—Merlin, he was so clever, he came up with all of these…”

Arthur trails off as Molly grows stiffer in his arms. She keeps her eyes stubbornly shut, purses her lips against the familiar misery inching up her throat, the telltale burn behind her eyelids. Arthur’s fingers hesitate for a moment, then move up from her waist, gently cupping her jaw, turning her face toward his in the darkness.

“Mollywobbles…”

“It’s wrong,” she hisses, gritting her teeth to keep her voice steady, to contain the insistent lump in her throat as she spits out the words she’s said more times she can count in the past month, the words that seem to disappear into thin air every time she utters them. “It’s wrong—none of them should have been in that meeting. Especially Ron! I fought with the twins every week for a year about waiting until they’d graduated to join the Order. How can we sit back and let Ron—and Hermione—? They’re children, Arthur!”

Arthur lets out a sigh that sounds as though it’s been wrenched from his chest, rattling and uneven. “You know I agree, Molly—but…Ron and Hermione have made up their minds. Harry—”

“—is sixteen,” her voice breaks, and she feels the last threads of her indignation snap, the tears spilling past her fragile defenses. How ironic that she lies here, in this house where security grows tighter each day, when the walls around her heart have never been more vulnerable. “He is a sixteen-year-old boy.”

Read the full chapter on AO3.

[danpuff-ao3]

Snarry AUctober fest is an annual fest exploring Snarry in various AU settings, and is an often fun and thoughtful exploration of my beloved OTP in various scenarios and settings. The fest always provides so many good reads, but to start you off, here are my top 5 for the 2021 fest!

An Evening Adrift

by allhaz_red. Rated: E. Words: 4,966. Canon divergence. Dirty talk. Bottom Snape.

Severus and Harry keep themselves occupied during a lull in the War.

The Way This Ends

by avioleta. Rated: E. Words: 25,837. Wartime. First time. Canon divergence.

A short time after killing Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape decides he is tired of fighting this war alone. He requests a meeting with Harry Potter, gives him a phial of memories, and tells him he wants to help with the task Dumbledore left behind. Together, they form an alliance. Original Prompt #57: Harry meets Snape every month to exchange war intel. it's always short notice, and nearly always in a grimy hotel, Muggle pub, or crowded bar.

Sunk Cost Fallacy

by Coconutice22 (@coconutice22). Rated: E. Words: 45,658. Coffee Shop AU. Mystery.

Life after the war is all the sweeter for a decent cup of tea made by Severus’s favourite green-eyed barista.  A Snarry Coffee Shop AU.

Gold Like Ichor, Gold Like Magic

by DandelionConstellation. Rated: E. Chapters: 11/11. Words: 26,521. Romance. Angst. Slow burn.

Seven years after Harry James Potter was left unceremoniously on the doorstep to Number Four, Privet Drive, Vernon Dursley was offered a promotion and the whole family had to move to Cokeworth, England. While Dudley is off terrorizing the local children, Harry spends his days in the school library and finds a fast friend in Ms. Eileen Prince.  From Cokeworth to Hogwarts and back again, this is a story about the friendship, the magic, and the love that can be found in the unlikeliest of places, if only one bothers to look.

Facility Management

by PinaNaponi. Rated: M. Words: 10,394. Muggle AU. CEO Severus. Office Setting. Accidental voyeurism. Secret relationship. Humor.

Argus had seen a great many things in his thirty years at A.D. Consulting. But never the CEO kissing someone on the rooftop.

[sir-bonesly]

March 23rd, 1987 Petunia Dursley, 32 Number Four Privet Drive

Petunia Dursley does not hate her nephew. While she hates magic, hates James Potter and his merry band, and hates the looks people give her when something weird happens, she does not hate her sister's son. Vernon, on the other hand, feels quite different. He's expressed his hatred for anything 'not normal' since Petunia first met him in her last year of secondary school.

She had yearned for someone to look at her back then, look at her without suspicion or fear. Vernon had looked at her and saw nothing but her normality. When Lily begged to meet the boy that had caught her older sister's eye, Petunia had been very upfront about Vernon's views on magic and non-christian religions. But Lily had insisted.

Of course, nothing in Petunia's life could be easy. The same day Vernon arrived to have dinner with the Evans', Severus Snape had decided to spend the night. Now, Petunia has never had any ill will against Severus, in fact, she held a large amount of pity for the boy. But his cold demeanor and sarcasm grated harshly against Vernon, and when he looked to her for help against the younger boy, she had been terrified of his reaction should she deny him. The night had ended in tears from both sisters as they dragged their respective man from the house.

The marriage was never meant to happen, not so early into their relationship. Barely a year into dating, in combination of Vernon forgetting protection and her parents commenting about Lily's marriage, Petunia announced both her pregnancy and marriage. Had she her choice of whom she'd marry, there were plenty of men she'd dreamed about. But none of them had gotten her pregnant at the age of twenty-three.

This is all to say, that Petunia Dursley loves her son more than her husband, and does not hate her nephew.

So when, on an usually sunny Friday morning, she hears Vernon yelling, she is quicker than normal to find out what has set him off. Laying on the stairs, arms covering his head, her nephew cowers behind Dudley. Her son, just a few months shy of seven, has a stern look on his face as his father stills from shock.

"Don't hurt him, it's not his fault!" His little voice wavers as he notices Petunia, but he doesn't move his arms from blocking Vernon. Petunia is shocked still at her son's actions. He's never acted so, out of character to his father. While she has tried her best to keep the relationship between the boys civil, Vernon has done his best to pass on his hatred of Harrison to Dudley, with varied success.

"Move, Dudley! Don't protect that little freak, he's not worth the dirt you walk on!" Vernon's faces reddens with anger as his son shakes his head.

"I'm not moving, dad." Dudley whispers, eyes never leaving his father's face. If he wasn't watching his father's reaction, he might've been able to dodge the hand that swings down at his face. Petunia barely holds back a scream as her son falls to the floor with a hand holding his face. Vernon doesn't stop though. He reaches past his son and grabs Harrison by his long hair, pulling him over Dudley's body and throwing him into the cupboard door. Petunia's first instinct is to run to her son, to hold him and leave Vernon alone. But Harrison looks up at her with tearful eyes that are so much like Lily's.

"Petunia, help me, please! Don't let him do it!" His voice breaks as Vernon holds his belt tightly, winding up to swing.

During Lily's fifth year away from home, something had happened between her and the bleak Severus. She had written home to their mother about how to react to a friend lashing out. That summer, Lily had been closed off and barely went outside. One morning though, Petunia went to tend to her small garden, and found Severus standing on the front porch.

When Lily came down, Petunia left them to talk things out themselves. She had to quickly return though when Lily started to scream her name, yelling for her help. What had truly happened, Petunia never found out, but both children were teary eyed, and Lily had a hand shaped bruise around her wrist.

To hear her nephew, who looked like his mother more than his father at such a young age, call for her help breaks something in her mind. Like a band that's been wrapped around her chest has snapped, she sees her nephew in a new light. A boy who's lost his parents, who's been abandoned by the magical world, and who needs someone to protect him.

Petunia grabs Vernon's hand as he lifts it to bring the belt down again on Harrison. Her eyes are cold and her voice, while quite and barely a whisper, are like a shout in a canyon.

"I'm leaving, Vernon, and I'm taking the boys with me," Vernon stumbles at her words, and she takes the opportunity to shove past him and kneel next to Harrison. "I don't know what came over me the last few years, but it stops now. I never should've allowed you to hurt Harrison."

Vernon, with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, returns his belt to his pants and storms out of the house, keys in hand. Petunia doesn't follow him. Dudley hurries over to his mother and cousin, breathing easy for the first time since Harrison entered the house. Unbeknownst to the three of them, Albus Dumbledore panics as his spells and wards start to fail.

[saintlike78]

Ok so... I have a little request : Bill is not with Fleur, but he meets Harry's cousin (Dudley's sister, who is the complete opposite of her family and loves Harry as her own brother) and she arouses his interest, and from here you can continue as you wish, if you could do a little smut if you are comfortable.🤗🤗🤗

I know Dudley doesn't have a sister, but I like the idea. And sorry for the mistakes, but I don't speak English so well.

Never seen anyone like you [B.W.]

A/N: Thank you so much for your request! I’m so sorry for the long wait, but I loved this idea so much, but I just didn’t know which direction to go with it, but I hope you like what I came up with. Reader is the same age as the twins and is also a muggle. This is also kinda paired with another request, where the person just wanted a Bill Weasley smut, which is also included.

Pairings: Bill Weasley x Fem! Muggle! Reader

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: NSFW 16+, vaginal sex, fingering, unprotected sex, age gap (7 years), mention of death, mention of nightmares, mention of injury.

The wind hit your back and made a chill run up your spine, making you shiver. Standing in the driveway of nr. 4 Privet Drive, you and Harry were watching your mother, father and brother leave because of the wizarding war threatening their safety. Your mother had tried but failed to get you to leave as well, but you couldn’t imagine leaving Harry behind and not being able to be there for him and to protect him, even if you had no magic yourself.

You had always loved Harry and saw him as a closer family than your actual family. You never understood what the problem was with him or why your family seemed to despise him so much, that was until he got his letter and he left for Hogwarts. You were so happy for him, but not being able to see him and only during the summer was tough because without Harry there to take all the slander from the Dursleys you, unfortunately, became the family's punching bag. When you turned 18 and finally moved out, you let Harry stay with you in your flat instead of going home to your family.

The house seemed eerie with only you and Harry and no future. You sat on the kitchen counter, Harry was pacing around the kitchen whilst you were waiting for the order to come and transport you both.

“Are you sure you want to do this? It’s not too late to leave and go into hiding yourself,” Harry said looking at you with worry.

“I’m sure, Harry, I want to be here with you and make sure you’re alright.”

A knock sounded on the door and you jumped down from the counter, following Harry to the door. Harry opened the door and inside stepped many familiar faces and some you hadn’t seen before. Having had Harry stay with you, you had met all the Weasleys (except for Charlie and Bill), when you had gone to visit The Burrow.

They all stepped inside one at a time and greeted you. The twins had made a huge show about picking you up and spinning you around telling you how much they had missed their ‘favorite muggle’, you slapped both their arms lightly and let them pass you. The last two people to enter was Arthur Weasley who you greeted, and one person you hadn’t met before. He had red hair, letting you know he was a Weasley as well, he was tall and had scars running down his face like Remus Lupin. You were almost at a loss for words when he stepped inside, your mind completely blank after looking at how handsome he was. You could already feel a little crush starting to form and you got butterflies when he made his way to you and stuck out his hand for you to shake.

“I’m Bill Weasley, a pleasure to meet you, at last, my family has told me much about you.” He said as you shook his hand. “Y/N Dursley, lovely to meet you too,” you said knowing you should be letting his hand go, but letting it linger a little longer.

You both just stared at each other, completely forgetting where you were and that you had things to do. That was until Fred and George came up on either side of you, each placing a hand on each of your shoulders, prompting you to let go of Bill’s hand.

“Well, now you’re just missing Charlie and then you’ve met the whole Weasley-clan,” Fred said with a laugh.

You just laughed and nodded your head.

“I’m going to go find Harry,” you quickly smiled at Bill and got out of the twin’s grasp, leaving them alone with Bill in the hallway.

“Blimey, why did none of you tell me!” Bill exclaimed in a low voice.

“Tell you what?” the twins said in synch.

“Tell me about Y/N,” he said as if his statement was obvious.

“We did, we said she was really nice and that she came round the shop and by the house a couple of times,” George said, still not really understanding what their brother meant.

“Yes, you said she was nice, but you didn’t tell me she looked like that.”

Both Fred and George let out a laugh, “Well mate, we didn’t think it was important to say that she doesn’t look like the other Dursleys.”

Bill hmphed like a child, “you could have told me. She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Alright alright, calm down Bill,” Fred laughed.

“But if you must know… she’s the same age as us, so a bit young for you eh? But she’s also single, from what we’ve gathered,” George informed their brother.

Bill just nodded and was about to ask more about you, but Moody’s voice was heard from the lounge telling everyone to gather around.

Entering the lounge, Bill spotted you and came to stand beside you, but slightly behind you. You felt his presence and turned your head slightly to give him a smile, one that he returned.

Moody briefed you all on what was going to happen, not without an objection from Harry. When Moody told everyone that he wanted there to be seven Harrys’, you had volunteered, since you felt kind of useless, being a muggle and all. This also didn’t go over well with Harry, telling you that this was out of the question, but you being just as stubborn as he would not let him talk you out of it. You told him that you wanted to help and that this was the only way for you to help with this situation.

After much convincing from not only you but everyone, he finally agreed.

“Alright, all the Harrys’ have a companion to ride with except for you Y/N.. you can ride with Bill,” Moddy informed you.

You nodded and felt a hand fall on your shoulder and giving it a squeeze. You looked back at Bill, whose hand it was, and smiled again. He kept his hand on your shoulder as a form of comfort and encouragement, squeezing once in a while. You could feel the butterflies swarming around in your stomach and you felt all warm and tingly all over, just because of his small touch.

Not long after, you were clinging on to Bill as you made your way to The Burrow. You didn’t know what you were thinking volunteering, since you couldn’t really protect yourself against the swarm of death eaters that followed you through the sky. Bill was trying his best to steer and fight back against them all. Moody was trying to shield you from the other side, but then suddenly a green spark hit him, and he tumbled towards the ground.

You let out a scream and buried your head into Bill’s back.

“Don’t worry, the worst part is over, we’ll be there soon,” Bill shouted against the wind so you would be able to hear him.

Arriving at The Burrow you were met by Molly attacking both you and Bill with a gigantic hug.

“Are you alright?” she asked looking between Bill and yourself.

“We’re alright mum, but Alastor… he didn’t make it,” Bill said looking down.

You put a hand on his back, slowly rubbing up and down trying to soothe him. You knew everyone was close with Moody and that his death would hurt the Order.

“How is everyone?” You asked Molly, hoping she would bring you some sort of good news.

“We’re still missing Fred and Arthur, but it would be best for you to come with me inside… George was hurt, he’ll be fine, but I need to keep an eye on him,” Molly informed you both.

___________________________

You were startled awake by the image of Alastor crashing towards the ground. You were trying to catch your breath, your hands shaky and sweat running down your back. You decided you needed a glass of water and perhaps some fresh air to calm down. You quietly got out of your makeshift bed on the floor and tried your best not to wake Ginny and Hermione, as you made your way out of the bedroom and down the creaky stairs towards the kitchen.

The cold water slid down your throat and you instantly felt better, but you still needed some air. You quietly opened the door to the garden and walked outside, the cool summer air instantly lowering your body temperature and relaxing you. Finding a nice spot, you sat upon the grass looking up at the stars, you hoped everything would turn out alright, but you weren’t so sure with how intense everything had been last night and that was just a tiny mission. Your head raced with millions of thoughts you didn’t notice the scar-faced ginger looking at you from the door and making his way over to you when he noticed the number of clothes (or rather lack thereof) you were wearing.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly as to not startle you with his presence.

You looked up at him and nodded. You patted the spot beside you, indicating for him to sit.

You couldn’t help but admire how handsome he looked in the moonlight, even if he was just wearing some casual plaid pajama pants and a knitted jumper, which you could tell was a Molly original.

You sat in silence as you both stared at the moon, the cool air having finally cooled you down, your temperature was now a bit too low, and you could feel goosebumps rise on your bare arms and legs. Bill who had been watching you making sure you were comfortable quickly removed the knitted jumper and handed it to you.

“Here, you’ll get ill if you don’t warm-up,” he said and you didn’t argue, pulling the jumper over your head. It smelled good and was already warm from leftover body heat from Bill, which made your stomach do a flip and fill with butterflies.

“Thank you,” you said with a smile, “please tell me if you get cold and want your jumper back.”

“No problem, and it’s fine, I don’t really get cold,” Bill said.

Putting his hands behind his head, he laid down looking up at the stars. Your eyes were instantly drawn to the way his muscles flexed in the grey t-shirt he had worn underneath the jumper. Your mouth watered a little, but you quickly pulled yourself together and laid down as well.

You laid in silence and looked at the stars, it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable, it was like you had known him your whole life, it felt so right.

A couple of minutes passed before Bill broke the silence.

“Why’d you decide to go with Harry instead of your family?”

You were a little taken aback by the bluntness of the question, but nevertheless answered quickly, not needing time to think about your answer.

“Harry is my family, and I couldn’t just leave him, especially now… I want to be there for him, even though I’m just a muggle, I..I’m going to be there until this war is over.”

Bill nodded turning his head towards yours, your head already turned towards him meeting his eyes. Your breath caught in your throat when you realized how close your face was to his, the way his eyes flicked between your eyes and your lips made your stomach do flips. Suddenly he started leaning in, “I know this is very sudden, but may I kiss you?” Bill said lowly, almost a whisper.

You nodded and leaned in the rest of the way connecting your lips with his. You knew it was so cliché, but you felt instant sparks of electricity shooting through your entire body.

The kiss was slow and gentle, but then you felt Bill’s tongue on your bottom lip asking for permission to enter your mouth, which you granted. He leaned upon one of his arms, so he was above you, his free arm cupping your cheek and keeping your face towards his.

This went on for a while, but begrudgingly you pulled apart for air.

You stared at each other, both taking deep breaths trying to regain a normal breathing pattern.

“wow,” Bill sighed out, “you are unbelievably beautiful.”

Your cheeks turned red with the heat of the blush settling on your face.

“Thank you,” you whispered and reached a hand up to caress his cheek.

You ended up talking until the sun rose on the horizon, the morning dew settling on the grass, making everything damp.

Your head was on Bill’s chest, hugging him to keep warm, but also just to be close to him.

“You don’t think I’m too old do you?” Bill asked, gently stroking your back.

Your headshot up from his chest to look into his eyes, “of course not,” you laughed and shook your head, laying it down again. Bill just chuckled and mumbled “alright.”

___________________________

You ran across the lawn as the black smoke figures landed around you. You tried to find Harry or Bill.

One of the figures shot a spell towards you and you ducked and covered your face, even though you knew that wouldn’t help. You waited for an impact, but it never came, instead, you were yanked by your arm into a broad chest. You looked up and saw Bill already looking at you, a concerned look on his face.

“Okay get ready, love,” he said quickly.

You didn’t get a chance to ask for what before the air was knocked out of you and the world spun around you.

You landed with a ‘thump’, eyes closed, still holding on tightly to Bill, afraid you were going to be sick.

“It’s alright now, you can open your eyes now,” Bill said quietly.

You opened your eyes, and you were met with the bright sun shining down on you. The light breeze caught in your hair and the smell of the ocean met your nose.

You looked around, the ocean was in front of you, and behind you was old, but cozy-looking, cottage.

“Where are we?” you asked, still not letting go of Bill.

“Shell cottage, it’s my family’s place… I took us here because we’ll be safe here,” Bill explained.

You nodded, but the relief was quickly replaced by worry and fear.

“But what about Harry and the others? They’re not here!” you rushed out, also leaving Bill’s arms to pace in front of him.

He pulled you back and pushed a strand of hair out of your face.

“The rest of the family is fine. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all went somewhere, where I’m not sure, but Ron promised he would let us know that they’re safe.”

You sighed out, still very concerned, but relieved that you were safe and hoped that Harry would be as well.

“Let’s go inside, love,” Bill whispered, taking your hand and leading you inside.

He first showed you around the house and then showed you to your room and let you freshen up or take a nap, just letting you calm down in your own space.

___________________________

You were startled awake by the images that played behind your closed eyes. You focused on the room, the moonlight bleeding in through the window, lighting up a part of the floor.

Your breathing was heavy, and your body was sweaty.

You tried to calm down for about 10 minutes, but you just couldn’t find a peaceful enough state to let yourself go back to sleep.

Your feet hit the cold floor and the wood creaked beneath your feet. You made your way out of your room and across the small hallway to where Bill had let you know his room was.

You opened the door slowly, peeking inside.

Inside you were met with a sleeping Bill, his shirtless figure on his back. You closed the door behind you and tip-toed your way over to his bed.

“Bill,” you whispered, already feeling guilty for disturbing him.

He stirred a little, not opening his eyes, but letting out a little “hmm?”, indicating that he was awake enough to hear you.

“I can’t sleep,” you mumbled shyly.

He didn’t say anything further, he only moved his blanket to the side and opened his arms for you to crawl into. You didn’t hesitate before crawling into the bed and curling up close to his body, already feeling calmed by his steady breathing.

“thank you,” you whispered, breathing in his calming scent.

He wrapped his arms around you and held you close, you could feel his breathing even out and you knew he had drifted off again.

You closed your eyes and listened to the steady beating of his heart, lulling you back to sleep.

You woke up, your entire body warm from being wrapped up in Bill’s arms. Your legs tangled with his, his arms still holding you tightly against him.

You looked at his calm sleeping face, you felt so at home with him, and you let out a content sigh.

“I can feel you staring, you know,” Bill said, startling you.

“I’m not staring,” you fired back too quickly to sound convincing, causing Bill to slightly smirk.

“Whatever you say, darling,” he said and hugged you closer.

He opened his eyes, looking over your face and smiling.

Bill leaned in and pecked your lips slightly, gauging your reaction. You just smiled and leaned in again kissing him longer.

Bill deepened the kiss, moving so he was above you. You spread your legs slightly allowing him to get between them on top of you. The kiss turned more passionate and heated as Bill slowly ground his hips into yours, causing you to softly moan into his mouth.

Bill broke the kiss and looked into your eyes, “Is this okay? Do you want this?”.

You whimpered slightly, “please Bill, I want it.”

Bill let out a groan at your words and reconnected your lips, hips grinding into your own.

The small whines and whimpers that left your lips egged him on and went straight to his cock.

Bill reached one hand between you feeling your wetness through your panties. “So wet for me and I haven’t properly touched you yet.”

You whined at his words, craving more of his touch.

“what is it you want, pretty girl?” he asked, teasing you.

“please touch me, Bill,” you whimpered out, eyes big and begging.

“Such a good girl,” he praised before moving your panties to the side and finding your clit drawing slow circles on the nub.

You moaned at the feeling and grabbed his arm that wasn’t working on you.

His fingers moved down, and he slowly pushed a finger into you causing you to let out a small gasp.

“I just need to get you ready for me,” Bill said softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead. He then added a second finger, creating a delicious feeling because of the slight stretch. Bill used his thumb to rub your clit bringing you closer to your release.

He curled and scissored his fingers making you clench around his fingers, Bill’s lips curled up into a slight grin.

“Cum for me, my beautiful girl.”

His words made the coil in your belly snap and you came on his fingers as you shook and closed your eyes in pleasure. You were panting as Bill worked you through your orgasm. He removed his fingers and brought them up to his lips sucking them clean and releasing them with a ‘pop’.

“absolutely divine.”

He made haste work of removing your panties and the shirt you had slept in, as well as his own boxers.

When you were both completely naked, he stroked his cock a couple of times before running it through your folds to gather your arousal as a lubricant. Bill slowly started pushing into you and you both released simultaneous gasps at the feeling. He pushed all the way in and bottomed out in you but didn’t move as he waited for you to adjust.

“I’m okay, you can move,” you said and moaned when he pulled back his hips and snapped them back into yours, and set a steady and pleasurable pace.

Leaning down so your chests were pressed together, he sloppily kissed you drinking up all the moans that spilled from your mouth to his.

He broke the kiss and leaned up slightly to snake a hand between your bodies to rub your swollen clit. You didn’t have time to process before you came for the second time that morning. Your whole body shook, and your legs tightened around Bill’s hips.

“Such a pretty sight… think you can take one more?” Bill panted out.

You whimpered and nodded.

“Ah, use your words angel.”

“Yes, Bill, I can take another,” you moaned out as he kept pounding into your sensitive cunt.

“Good girl,” Bill said as he pulled out of you and laying himself down, guiding you by your hips to straddle him.

He positioned you above his cock and guided it into you again.

“There you go, my pretty baby, go own ride me,” Bill encouraged, and you wasted no time in obeying him.

You rocked your hips, circled them, and bounced on him until you felt yourself nearing another release and you moaned loudly.

Bill’s hand found your clit again and rubbed it until your knees quivered as you came again.

When you had finished, Bill grabbed your hips and angled you so he could fuck up into you, chasing his own release.

Not long after, his thrusts faltered, and he stilled as he emptied himself in you.

You collapsed onto his chest trying to catch your breath. Bill rubbed your back slowly, before pulling out of you causing a whimper to fall from your lips.

“You did so well,” Bill praised, kissing your forehead.

“I’m never going to let you go, my pretty girl.”

[hms-harmony-discord]

The HMS Harmony Discord’s 4k House Competition has come to an end and you can find all the published fics in this AO3 collection or below:

Australia by alexandra_emerson

Summary: What happened when Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to Australia right after the war?

The Four Seasons by IckleRonnikens

Summary: The evolution of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger’s relationship through the four seasons.

The Sortings of 4 Potter Children by PercabethInHarmony

Summary: Four Children. Four Hogwarts Houses

The Promise by kaitco

Summary: Years after making a promise, Harry Potter runs into an old school friend.

Forgiveness, Can You Imagineby PercabethInHarmony

Summary: After having several years to reconcile, Harry and Hermione have to go to Dudley's funeral too soon.

A Kiss for Luck by annonymously_blonde

Summary: Just before the first task, Hermione is a mess of nervous fussing over Harry and decides perhaps a muggle tradition is just the thing he needs.

The Little Library by IckleRonnikens

Summary: Harry Potter is a teenager who has grown up in a repressed household, his only source of escape is reading books and writing stories, and he meets the most wonderful person because of it. Harmony Muggle AU.

This is Home by annonymously_blonde

Summary: Harry never intended to darken the passageway of Number 4 Privet Drive again. Yet that was precisely where he found himself two years after ending Voldemort, but this time, he wasn't alone.

Four Conversations by dragonfly117

Summary: Four conversations between Harry and Hermione that changed everything.

Muggle Little Secrets by annonymously_blonde

Summary: Faced with the second task, Harry is trying to figure out how to survive. What happens when he realizes magic isn't always the best solution?

The Harmony Waltz by IckleRonnikens

Summary: Harry Potter and Hermione Granger keep dancing around the fact that they like each other, and want to go to the Yule Ball together, but neither of them are prepared to make the first move. Harmony AU.

Clawing at a Lion's Life by PercabethInHarmony

Summary: Hermione Granger has always been a loner. People don't really talk to her. They're scared of her. She's the tough, annoying know-it-all that could destroy you with a flick of her wand. But, now she's sick of her reputation and sick of being alone. That's when Harry Potter sat down in front of her. 

Four for One by Cheeseydare

Summary: Hermione had a special request for her fortieth birthday. Rating: Explicit  

4 Seasons of Harmony by KielWhitehead24

Summary: How Harry loves Hermione in each of the 4 seasons.

A Tricky Old Hat  by Oldking01

Summary: The sorting hat stops working and it's up to the teachers to figure out a way to fix it. Will Hermione be the one to do it, or will Harry be the one to pull a rabbit out of it?

Four Minutes by Oldking01

Summary: When Lavender and Parvati decide to play a game of seven now four minutes in heaven, Hermione asks herself where her future will go. 

Summer by suzyq28

Summary: "See nothing was strange, he thought as he chanced a glance back at her. It was just Hermione." Harry and Hermione manage to escape Mrs Weasley's frantic wedding preparations in Deathly Hallows and spend an afternoon together. 

Autumn by suzyq28

Summary: He looked at her, the autumn light revealing the strands of gold in her hair. Her warm brown eyes held a smile within them. “Yeah… it is,” he managed to reply, his throat constricting as he forced himself to look away from her. The hunger of his stomach was quickly overpowered by another familiar feeling. Longing. A longing that was weighted with guilt that always seemed to settle heavy in his gut.

 Autumn has arrived and Harry and Hermione are on their own in the tent. Harry has his feelings totally under control. 

 Winter by suzyq28

Summary: His grip tightened on Hermione involuntarily as the words washed over him. She was his protection. The only remaining light visible to him in the darkness. The encroaching cold and darkness of winter approaches.

Harry and Hermione are still on the run and very much alone.

 Wildest Dreams by deadpoetpie

Summary: Four simple questions lead to something that's worth living for.

It All Started with a Dance by annonymously_blonde

Summary: The tent dance scene, but much spicier. 

HMS Harmony 4K drabbles by ATP_Synthase

Summary: Moments of Harmony, written for the HMS Harmony Discord's 4K competition.

Teddy's fourth birthday by annonymously_blonde

Summary: Teddy is celebrating his fourth birthday at the Potter house. Fluffy, adorable, plotless.

4 AM by suzyq28 

Summary: “Do you think she’s trying to kill us?” Some short snippets of Harry and Hermione's lives as new parents. 

Four Days by annonymously_blonde 

Summary: Harry Potter has been missing for four days. As Minister, Hermione has to be strong and portray a confident front, but inside, she's falling apart.

All That Lives Forever by suzyq28

Summary: "As she throws herself into his arms, her mind races through all the moments he’d walked away from her. The truth she’d been avoiding and trying to stop for so long- that it was always going to end this way." A slight re-imagining of the I'll go with you scene. 

............................. More than a hundred other drabbles not posted on ao3 can be found on the server under the #drabbles channel starting here! Our artists also went all out for this event, some of their works which were posted exclusively to the discord server can be found under the #hhr-fanart and #mature-hhr-art channels.

Congratulations on Ravenclaw for winning, and also to all the participants for contributing so much great H/Hr content. 

[snarryauctoberfest]

Day 8 – Snarry AUctoberfest 2021

Title: Gold Like Ichor, Gold Like Magic

Rating: Mature

Fic/Art/Podfic: Fic

Word Count: 26,521

Tags: Romance, Angst, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Temporary Character Death, Slow Burn

Summary: Seven years after Harry James Potter was left unceremoniously on the doorstep to Number Four, Privet Drive, Vernon Dursley was offered a promotion and the whole family had to move to Cokeworth, England. While Dudley is off terrorizing the local children, Harry spends his days in the school library and finds a fast friend in Ms. Eileen Prince.

From Cokeworth to Hogwarts and back again, this is a story about the friendship, the magic, and the love that can be found in the unlikeliest of places, if only one bothers to look.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34348642/chapters/85468780

ϟ

Title: Details of Your Incompetence Do Not Interest Me

Rating: General Audiences

Fic/Art/Podfic: Art

Word Count: N/A

Tags: Art, The Devil Wears Prada AU

Summary: Prompt: The Devil Wears Prada AU. Fashion Icon Severus Snape and younger Harry.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34587247

[newtonsheffield]

If Anthony is a secret Star Wars fan, is it safe to assume that Kate had a Harry Potter phase?

Pleeeaseeeee 

Kate Sheffield’s Harry Potter phase continued well into her twenties though she feels (as a lot of us potter fans do) that The Author is incorrect. And Trans rights are human rights, and Trans women, are women. And we desperately hopes she wakes up and realises what an idiot she is. 

But alas, I digress. Do you want to see a Lil snippet of when Anthony found out Kate loved Harry Potter? (It’s below the cut if you do)

Thomas Sheffield had loved reading to his daughters before bed. Every night  he’d sat for 30 minutes and read story after story to them. He’d always start out with  “Just one tonight, girls” but then the one story would be over, and Kate would beg  “Please Daddy.” in the way she’d long since learned her father couldn’t resist. and he’d read ten more.  And then one day he’d come home with a new book and sat Kate down on his lap and started reading Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone and Kate had been entranced.

She’d tried to beg him to stay up and finish it, tucked on his lap with Edwina who’d fallen asleep ages ago but he’d laughed and said  “It’ll still be there tomorrow peanut!” and she’d scowled as she’d gotten into bed and fell asleep bursting with excitement dreaming of red trains, and wizards, and flying motorcycles. 

They got through the first few books this way, before Kate decided she was too old to be read to, and she read quicker than her father could keep up anyway. But he’d always read the new book as soon as she’d finish it and they’d discuss their theories endlessly while Mary tutted and Edwina flitted in and out of the conversation. And then the series finished, and she still read them every year. Took them to university with her, read them when she missed her family and felt close to them again. And then her Dad died. And she returned to the University of Lincoln two weeks later and stared at the books piled on her shelf, now looking more than a little worse for wear, and tears blurred her vision as she swept them into a box and closed it up for good. 

And over time she barely thought about them. well, she tried not to at least. She’d see them in he bookstore sometimes and run her fingers down the spine  and smile to herself. Sometimes she’d even open up one and skim read her favourite section. But she never opened the box that contained her own set couldn’t bare to see the inscriptions her dad always left on the inside cover, and she knew the Deathly Hallows would sting most of all 

Sometimes the end is just the start of something new, Peanut-Dad

And then one day she walked into the bedroom she shared with Anthony Bridgerton and stopped dead. Because thereon her bedside table were seven dogeared books she would have recognised anywhere despite the intervening 8 years. And her heart was suddenly in her throat

“Anthony!” She called out sharply hearing his footsteps hurrying up the stairs no doubt in a panic at the tone f her voice “Is something wrong?” He said appearing through the door moments later, his hair falling into his eyes, concern colouring his voice. Kate fought to keep her own neutral. “Where did you find those books?” She said, looking at a spot of his shoulder, unable to look him in the way, afraid she would do something humiliating like break down in front of him. His eyes widened in understanding, a small smile on his face  “Mary dropped round a box of your old stuff from uni while you were out today, and I know I shouldn’t have looked but I was very curious about little Katie Sheffield and I saw those and-” He started, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he spoke 

“Get rid of them.” Kate said bluntly. Anthony froze, his face uncomprehending. “Kate?”  “Please, Anthony. Get rid of them.” Kate said, her voice starting to crack a little. Anthony’s mouth dropped open “I can pack them up again. But I’m not getting rid of them, Kate. I saw what was written inside and I know you want to keep them.” He said gently, stepping forward hesitantly and wrapping his arms around her when she didn’t move, tucking her face against his neck as the tears started to fall. 

They stayed, swaying silently for several moments as the tears slowly stopped, and Kate felt her breathing even out, soothed by Anthony’s warm presence. “My Dad used to read them to me.” Kate whispered against his neck, he made a hum of acknowledgement “And we loved them. We’d spend hours discussing them, it was something that was just ours I guess and I don’t know when he died I couldn’t even look at them.”  Anthony pulled back a little, his eyes glistening with his own tears “Honey, I’m so sorry. If I’d known I never would have-Kate I thought you lost them.” His voice was a little desperate, his eyes burning into hers, desperate for her to believe that he’d meant no harm. Kate felt her heart clench as she turned around, her eyes landing on the stack of books and she reached out for the first time in years and ran her hand over the cover. 

“I think it’s time for some new memories with these.” She said lightly, picking up the Philosopher’s Stone and opening the cover, her father’s handwriting bringing a smile to her face. Anthony cleared his throat and said “May I then?” Kate turned towards him in confusion. He had sat down on their bad, his hand outstretched towards her. She held the book out to him hesitantly. Unsure. He took it gently from her then tugged on her hand, encouraging her to settle beside him, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. He cleared his throat once more and began 

“Mr and Mrs Dursley of Number 4 Privet Drive were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much...”

And as she sat, listening to Anthony’s deep voice rumble through his chest, she couldn’t help but be entranced all over again 

I’m so sorry! This was both sadder and longer than I expected

[finecole]

George Weasley x Reader // ‘Back in no time’

They all knew what they were signing up for when they agreed to help move Harry, but George and (Y/n) had convinced themselves it wouldn’t go wrong as they squeezed each others hand in goodbye. Story takes place during and around the Battle of the Seven Potters. Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: George Weasley x female!Reader, Fred Weasley x Reader (friendship)

Word count: 3.7K

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, under age drinking

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

You stepped over the threshold of number four, Privet Drive, one hand still locked in with George’s. This was going to be the first thing you’d ever do for the Order, and by God, you hoped it wasn’t going to be your last.

Harry looked down at you all, slightly bewildered, wondering why there were so many of you. Mad-eye Moody cleared it all up, and started handing out the Pollyjuice. You looked up at George smirking, as he waited his turn, ‘’About to lose all that handsome, huh?’’

‘’Oh, don’t worry (Y/n), you’ll have me back in no time,’’ he said, brushing a strand of hair out of your face as you took each other’s faces in.

The past few weeks, a sadness had started growing behind both your eyes. You’d tried hiding it under jokes and grins, but reality was slowly creeping up on you, like a slow thick fog, as every morning an owl came bearing bad news. Not to mention the news that went unreported, but was noticed none the less.

Mad-Eye poured George his concoction, but before he lifted the potion to his lips, you softly pulled him towards you by his shirt, connecting your lips. The kiss, far too short, but containing so many words none of you dared say out loud.

‘’We’ll be fine,’’ he said as you broke apart. ‘’They don’t even know we’re coming.’’

This, Mad-Eye was almost certain of. Perhaps a few lonely Deatheaters, but nothing you couldn’t handle right? You clung to seven years of Hogwarts teachings and the memories at the room of requirement.

Everyone went in pairs, except for your party: Mad-Eye, questioning Mundungus’ trustworthiness, had pulled you aside two days ago at The Burrow asking you to join him, just in case. You’d agreed, wanting very much to help the cause. But looking at Mundungus now, jumpy and sweating, you felt like this was going to be a little more than just a transport.

George took the potion, and in a matter of seconds there were seven Harry’s. Fred and George started poking each other, their clothes a tad bit too large for Harry’s frame. What a sight.

You went back outside, squeezing George’s hand one more time before you took your place on your broom. Five years on the Gryffindor Quidditch team should be enough, you thought to yourself, if the need for a quick getaway would arise.

Mad-Eye appeared beside you, followed by a transformed Mundungus. ‘’Ready?’’

‘As much as I’ll ever be,’’ you answered.

He patted you on the shoulder before turning to the rest. ‘’Everyone ready, please; I want us all to leave at exactly the same time or the whole point of the diversion’s lost.’’

Everyone mounted their brooms.

‘’Good luck, everyone,’’ shouted Mad-Eye. ‘’See you all in about an hour at The Burrow. On the count of three. One…’’

Your eyes met George’s – well, Harry’s.

‘’Two…’’

He winked.

‘’Three!’’

The next moment, a motorbike roared, and for a moment, the soaring of wings and brooms was all that occupied the night time.

You took Mundungus’ right side and rose through the air fast, heading north, your eyes watering and hair whipping wildly behind you.  Surrey shrunk beneath you, and when the lights below you started looking like constellations, your broom gave a violent shake.

Behind you, a small dark cloud was moving towards you, fast. A dementor? No, dementors couldn’t use spells.

‘’Something’s here!’’ you shouted, and from the corner of your eye you saw Mad-Eye’s fake eye turn into his head.

Another green streak barely missed Mundungus, who was now starting to panic.  

‘’It’s him!’’ Mad-Eye shouted.

No - Voldemort? You looked back around; more figures had appeared beside the cloud. Squinting, you could make out the outline of a face, barely human. It couldn’t be…

Mundungus had now properly lost it. ‘’Mad-Eye, y- you said this wouldn’t happen! Death Eaters – one thing - but the dark lord?!’’

Mundungus leaned down on his broom, wand in hand, ready to flee.

‘’Keep it together!’’ Mad-Eye shouted at him, as he tried taking him by his arm.

But it was too late, Mundungus had suddenly disappeared in the night, and Mad-Eye, trying to regain his balance after grabbing nothing but air, was struck by the green.

You chocked on a scream. Mad-Eye stilled, and fell into the constellations below, growing smaller and smaller.

This couldn’t be happening. You looked behind you, Voldemort had retreated, but three of his Death Eaters continued to give chase. Below you, forest appeared, and you quickly dove down. Better chance behind a tree, you thought, as you weaved between their curses.

You went lower and lower. Tears were starting to form, flying of your face as fast as they appeared, as your mind went to all the places it shouldn’t. You’ll have me back in no time. Your parents, waiting for Mr. Weasley and Fred to take the portkey. No – you’d shake them off, or go down in a fight.

You’d reached the edge of the forest, and started weaving through the oak trees, small twigs scratching you up. You hoped a rogue branch wouldn’t bring an end to the plan.

The Death Eaters had reached the forest too now, and they were gaining on you, their voices growing louder and more maniacal.

‘’Come here girl! If you oblige, we’ll make it quick!’’

A scream followed, and you risked taking a look behind you. One of them had hit a tree, but his friends were too occupied to give a care. Another spell was rushing towards you. Too late to dodge, it scraped past your right arm. A burning sensation spread from where the spell hit, making you loosen your grip on the broom.

More spells flew past you. They were catching up, and they were growing more and more angry, as green streaks became common. You couldn’t keep this up for long, where were you going? The Burrow, the safehouse? But you’d be leading them right-

A spell put an end to your thoughts, as it hit the end of your broom, making it swerve to the right. The broom’s back hit the tree and whirled around, causing you to lose balance and fall.

Trying to soften the fall you stretched your arms out automatically, resulting in a loud snap and the pain in your right arm growing even more unbearable.

You scrambled behind a large tree, trying desperately to ignore the pain and listen for cracking twigs and leaves behind you. Blood was running down your arm, too fast. Fear and pain was catching up to the adrenaline.

Snap. You whirled around the tree. And with all the power and hope you had left, aimed a pair of stunning spells.

‘’Stupefy!’’ Straight to his chest, a loud thud followed, but not before he got out a spell of his own.

That same burning, sharp feeling, rushing across your abdomen. You were growing light-headed.

You heard the final Death Eater call out to his stunned colleague in the distance. Or was it close by… You could barely tell as sounds were starting to mingle together. Your white shirt was steadily growing a dark red. Too much blood… Your mind raced for a spell, something to close the wound, refill blood, but nothing came.

You gave your wand a final flick, a silver sliver growing larger and larger, before everything turned dark.

--- Fred’s POV ---

Fred stood by the couch on which George was resting, looking outside through the kitchen window. Two figures came into view. Ron, or (Y/n)? A flash of pink hair gave it away.

‘’Ron’s back.’’ They both let out a sigh of relief.

‘’She should have been back by now,’’ George said softly, his voice cracking. He had convinced himself that everything would be fine, but the many absences and his lack of a second ear were surely making him worry.

‘’Don’t worry Georgie, she’ll be back. She has to,’’ Fred said, eyes still outside. ‘’I’m going to wait outside alright? You rest.’’

George tried to protest, but standing up made his head spin so much he had to lay back down.

As soon as Fred walked through the kitchen door, a Thestral carrying Bill and Fleur appeared. His mother rushed towards them, enveloping Bill in a hug. But as they pulled away, Bill’s face turned grim and looked directly at father.

“Mad-Eye’s dead.’’

Fred swallowed a lump, and was about to press on when Bill continued:

‘’We saw it, it happened just after we broke out of the circle: Mad-Eye, Dung and (y/n) were close by us, they were heading north too. Voldemort – he can fly – went straight for them. Dung panicked, I heard him cry out, Mad-Eye tried to stop him, but he Dissaparated. Voldemort’s curse hit Mad-Eye full in the face, he fell backwards off his broom – and there was nothing we could do, nothing, we had half a dozen of them on our own tail –‘’

Fred closed the distance between his brother in a second and took him by the shoulders.

‘’(Y/n)? Did you see anything – Bill, is she?’’ He couldn’t finish that sentence; it couldn’t be true.

Mum put a hand to her mouth, head shaken up by a constant tugging between worry and relief, and looked inside through the door. George’s red hair was just sticking out over the top of the couch.

‘’I don’t know, I think I saw her fly off but they were following her. I’m – I’m sorry.’’ Bill looked at the ground, tears prickling in his eyes.

Fred spun around to his parents. ‘’She’s out there!’’

Anger was starting to nibble on him from the inside out. Their best friend can’t be gone.

Mum suppressed a sob. ‘’Freddie, you have to tell George.’’

She looked at Arthur and her features contorted in pain as she realised something.

‘’Merlin- Arthur, I have to tell Anne to get here.’’

Fred walked back inside, shaking his head, tears forming. No one was supposed to die. Stop. She’s still out there, she had to be, for all of their sakes. For herself.

‘’Freddie?’’ George peered over the back of the couch.

Fred wiped his eyed on his sleeve.

‘’She’s not back yet. Mad-Eye’s dead.’’

George shot up, ignoring the spinning sensation. ‘’What?!’’

Fred rushed towards his side, ‘’Easy George, Bill thinks he saw her fly off, she could turn up any minute now…’’ His words were barely audible now. Who was he trying to convince?

With everyone inside, a silence, interrupted by George’s soft sobs, befell upon them all.

Arthur was leaning on the doorframe, facing outside, when suddenly he jumped up and shouted. ‘’A patronus!’’

Fred and George shot up and rushed to their father’s side. A lioness appeared from the tall grass; she sat down, and locked her eyes on George’s.

‘’That’s (Y/n)’s.’’ George said, pain written all over his features. ‘’She’s in trouble, we have to help!’’

Fred shook his head. ‘’You’re in no condition, I’ll go. Dad?’’

Arthur nodded and flicked his wand; a pair of brooms flew towards him and Fred. Bill Got back on the Thestral, joining in.

George made to protest, but Fred softly pushed him backwards.

‘’George look at yourself. Don’t worry - we’ll get your girl,’’ Fred grinned, taking a seat.

The three of them took off, the lioness running below, leading them towards the forest before dissolving.

Molly joined George’s side, steering him back inside. But before George managed to settle down, another flash appeared outside. Everyone reached for their wands, but someone had already made their way in.

It was a witch, dressed in lime green robes, with her hands up.

‘’Molly - what happened?!’’

---

They landed right at the edge of the forest, and looked around them for any signs. The moon was hiding behind clouds, making it hard to see anything. Fred lit up the end of his wand.

‘’Put it out,’’ Arthur hissed. ‘’There could still be some left.’’

Fred looked at his father, and whispered ‘’How are we supposed to find her then? Besides, they’ll hear us anyway.’’ He stepped on some leaves; a loud crunching sound protruded the darkness, like cutlery dropped on the kitchen floor at midnight.

Arthur sighed, nodded and lit up his wand as well. Bill followed suit, and they made their way in.

Hoping there was no one left (if there was, they surely would be seen), they walked on as Fred thought of the summer after your fourth year at Hogwarts.

Fred, George and you had sneaked off past bedtime, a bottle of fire whiskey in hand, towards the nearby forest. At the edge, you sat down, made a small fire, and decided on a few rounds of truth and dare. The burn of whiskey fresh, you accepted a dare to go into the forest alone, and without wand. Had it not been for the liquid courage, and George’s teasing about (Y/n)’s fear of the dark, she’d never have gone for it, Fred thought.

Five minutes passed, and another, and more. Fred and George, who had, up to that point, occupied themselves with the alcohol, thought it quite odd you’d been gone for so long; they decided to check up on you. Both not too keen on the pitch black forest themselves, they anxiously looked around them.

‘’(Y/n)!?’’ The twins shouted.

Nothing but the cracking of leaves under their feet.

‘’Come on (Y/n), this isn’t funny anymore!’’ George shouted.

Thud. They turned around at the same time, shoulders glued together.

“D – Did you hear that?’’ Fred whispered.

George nodded, and swallowed hard. It felt like his heart was trying to run away without him.

‘’ROAR!’’ You jumped up behind them, slamming your hands between their shoulder blades.

The twins nearly fell and yelled so hard the birds around them awakened and took flight. Scrambling back up to their feet, they pointed their wands at you.

You doubled over in laughter, ‘’ Your – your faces! Brilliant!’’

Fred and George looked at each other, trying to make sense of what just happened, before joining in on the laughter.

‘’I’m never going to let you live this down,’’ you said, as you stepped in between them and steered them back to the campfire.

Oh, how Fred hoped you would jump out of hiding again to scare them.

‘’There,’’ Bill whispered, pointing at a dark lump in the distance.

Slowly, they made their way over. Arthur held his wand up, revealing the lump’s old and wrinkled face. ‘’Rookwood.’’

‘’Alive?’’ Fred asked.

Arthur bent down, checked Rookwood’s pulse, and shook his head.

‘’Well, (Y/n)’s got to be close then.’’ Fred said, hope appearing. He broke off from the group, trying to find a trace, when suddenly he got an idea.

‘’Accio (Y/n)’s wand,’’ he looked around him, waiting for movement. Anything.

Seconds seemed to last forever, when suddenly they heard the rustling of leaves to their right, and a-

‘’Ouch!’’ Bill cried, rubbing his cheek. Your wand had poked him, and then fallen to his feet before continuing its journey to Fred’s hand.

‘’Good thinking,’’ Arthur looked up to his son, pride swelling inside him.

They headed in the direction from which the wand came. Fred, holding his breath in anticipation, could almost see you jumping from a tree, when his foot kicked something. There lay what was left of a broom, scattered all over the forest ground, and drips of blood.

His eyes followed the trail of blood, and saw it disappear behind a large tree a few steps in front of him. He signaled to the others, pointing at the ground and the tree. Bill and Arthur nodded, following Fred.

They rounded the corner, and Fred gasped, making Bill and Arthur rush to his side.

There you sat, without movement, slumped against the tree; shirt soaked in blood, face scratched up, right arm at an odd angle.

Arthur cursed under his breath, rushed towards you, and checked your pulse.

‘’She’s alive, but we have to be quick, she’s soaked in blood,’’ Arthur breathed, ‘’her mother’s probably arrived by now.’’

There had only been a few times in Fred’s live when he was unable to produce any words. First George, now (Y/n) in an even worser state. Fred tried convincing himself: surely, her mother, head healer at St.Mungo’s, could mend her.

Arthur carefully scooped you up and they hurried back to the edge of the forest. He placed you on the Thestral in front of Bill, and with a great haste, they flew back to the Burrow.

---- George’s POV ----

Your mum was sitting at the kitchen table, an untouched cup of tea sitting in front of her. She had looked at George’s ear – or lack thereof, and concluded it was fine, and was now being comforted by Molly.

They’d been gone for almost an hour now, and George, even though his injury was screaming for it, was unable to get any rest. The rest of the family and member of the Order had been sitting in the living room, still processing Mad-Eye’s death, and pondering your whereabouts.

‘’Molly!’’ someone yelled from outside.

Everyone’s face shot up, and Molly had already scurried off to open the door, your mother right behind her.

George sat up and looked over the back of the couch, and time seemed to slow down; Arthur rushed in, you in his arms, covered in blood. He saw mouths move, but heard no words. Molly cleared the kitchen table, where you were laid down. Your mothers face in shock, but ready care for you.

George didn’t know when or how, but his legs had carried him towards the kitchen. Your name was sitting on his tongue, but he couldn’t get it out. Fred was now next to him, his hand on his shoulder.

Gashes and scratches all over your body, painting your clothes and skin red. He had to be dreaming, George thought. He’d fallen asleep – this was a nightmare. He’d wake up, and be told to get ready for Harry’s transport. Right?

His mother had taken him by the shoulders again, steering him towards the stairs, Fred following suit. ‘’Come on boys, let Anne do her job.’’

He didn’t want to go, he needed to be there for you, hold your hand - but his mother’s look told him not to try – Anne needed the quiet. Tears were pouring down his face again – how much more could he cry tonight?

Molly, eyes watery too, enveloped him in a hug, ‘’She’ll be okay dear – I promise, everything will be fine in the morning.’’

They let go, and George followed his brother up the stairs, the yearning for your comforting touch attracting all your memories together.

--- (Y/n)’s POV ---

Your eyelids were so heavy, it was as if someone had placed rocks on them. You focused on your other senses; bird song in the distance, a light breeze, heat – sunshine? Calmness, an early morning. To bask in its serenity, just for a moment longer, with your mind empty and thoughts far, far away.

You pried your eyes open, a room so familiar unfolding itself before you there was no way to keep the memories from flooding in; The Burrow – you were moving Harry.

You shot up at the thought, an awful pain shooting through your abdomen, reminding you of your encounter with the death eaters. Lifting your shirt, a scar running from side to side revealed itself.

‘’(Y/n)?’’ A soft whisper spoke behind you.

A pregnant pause occupied the room, before you turned around in your bed – with as much speed as the scar allowed.

His hair a tangled mess, bags under his eyes, but here, with you in the same room.

“Georgie…’’

He was in your arms in a second. Your bodies melted together, his usual warmth enveloping you like a fire in winter. Tears escaped your eyes as the just returned fear you’d felt was driven away by relief. If only you could stay like this.

He pulled away, sinking in your eyes. How scared he had been. How many silly jokes he had thought of in the past 24 hours to cheer you up once you came back to them; all forgotten at the sight of you conscious – safely in his arms.

You cupped his face, pulling him in for a kiss, when you suddenly noticed a certain something missing. Worry must have crossed your face, as George grinned.

‘’I’m holy now, get it?’’

You smacked his chest, but couldn’t keep a laugh from escaping.

‘’Repeating jokes now are we, brother dearest?’’

Fred appeared in the doorway, a wide smile lifting his cheeks as he took at the two of you.

‘’Fred! Come here!’’ You waved him over, taking his hand as he got closer and sat down on the bed. He hugged you, a tad too strongly as a you felt your abdomen sting.

‘’Good thing you woke up so soon, (Y/n/n), George over here was becoming unbearable.’’ Fred joked, but you knew he was just as relieved as his twin, as he tried to wipe away a tear in secret.

The three of you laughed, and for a moment, it felt like just another one of your sleepovers. One like the many others you’d had in your 19 years of friendship; without worry, just excited to see what the next day would bring, no mention of war in sight.

George took your hand. ‘’You’re mother’s downstairs in the garden. Should I call her up?’’

You shook your head. ‘’Help me get down, I want to see the rest.’’

Fred and George helped you up, and half leaning on George, you made your way down, Fred parading in front joyfully announcing your arrival.

George grinned down at you, ‘’Told you you’d have me back in no time.’’

A playful gasp escaped your lips. ‘’Why yes, no time and a couple of scars.’’

[stark-tony]

I'd love hp recs if you're willing!

 * = incomplete

boy with a scar series* by dirgewithoutmusic  

summary:  A series of "what if" rewrites of Harry Potter, books 1-7. Cross-posted from tumblr (ink-splotch).

pairings: romione, hinny, wolfstar, bleur, jily

tags: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

warnings:

we must unite inside her walls or we'll crumble from within series by dirgewithoutmusic

summary:  stories for the ladies of hogwarts, who cry, waver, giggle, trespass, and who deserve our respect all the same

pairings:

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

the dogfather au by hollimichele

summary:  “I’m not a reverse werewolf either,” says the man. “I’m your godfather.”

pairings: wolfstar

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

The Changeling + Armistice Series*  by Annerb

summary:  Ginny is sorted into Slytherin. It takes her seven years to figure out why.

pairings: hinny

tags: angst, drama

warnings: rape

tell me whether he is dead by LullabyKnell

summary: Post-DH AU: Harry suffers a few side-effects of dying but not dying.

“Hey, can someone help me with this? The mirror in the bedroom’s stopped working for me."

“What do you mean ‘the mirror’s stopped working’?”

pairings: hermione/harry/ron

tags: fluff, angst, humor

warnings: none

Regulus Black and the Way Things Changed: A Not!Fic by imaginary_golux

summary: What if Regulus Black, and not Severus Snape, ended up being the turncoat Potions Master of Hogwarts?

A not!fic written in bullet points, ignoring the Deathly Hallows entirely because they annoy me.

Beta by my immensely patient Best Beloved, Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw, and by the delightful starbirdrampant.

pairings: wolfstar

tags: crack

warnings: none

who discovered your secret by LullabyKnell

summary: Pre-Canon AU: On the street named Privet Drive, in Little Whinging, Surrey, a man lived alone at Number Eight, supposedly.

It was apparently difficult to tell.

pairings: none

tags: fluff, angst

warnings: none

Little Lion Boy by ShanaStoryteller

summary: Draco is sorted into Gryffindor.

It's all part of the plan, really.

parings: none

tags: 

warnings: none

a witch in the family by LullabyKnell

summary: - "For the 5+ Headcanon game, what do you think of an AU in which Petunia is a witch?"

Pre-Canon AU: Petunia Evans learns important life lessons from the magical world that every proper witch ought to know.

pairings: none

tags: angst

warnings: none

when in doubt, go to the library by LullabyKnell

summary:  The Hogwarts Library saves the Wizarding World through the power of reading. 

pairings: none

tags: humor, crack

warnings: none

these long cold days by dirgewithoutmusic

summary: In the war, Dean holed up in hollows and friendly attics and Muggle pubs. He drew Umbridge the Toad, noseless Voldy confused by the last dozen plus years of wizardly pop culture, the Ministry of Magic with its fingers stuffed in its stuffy ears.

He drew Snape as Headmaster, his sneer easy after seven years of notebook margin practice. Dean drew the Dark Mark over London’s skyline and he left his work nailed up around Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, Godric’s Hollow. He signed his name. He had things he wanted to say.

There were long days when he didn’t talk to anyone– walking old fields and long roads, sleeping in haystacks. There were long weeks when he only talked to strangers– passersby, shop owners, sympathizers, snatchers who he traded curses with.

He drew the Gryffindor Common Room, hearths all ablaze. He listened to Lee Jordan’s radio show on the crackling airwaves. He drew his little sisters, who had gone to France with his mother and father. He drew faces from the darkened boys’ dormitory– Harry’s long bangs hiding his scar, Neville practicing his dance moves for the Yule Ball, Ron asleep with his head on his thick Weasley sweater, Seamus grinning at him over a three a.m. game of cards.

pairings: deamus

tags: angst

warnings: kidnapping

Rise by Kyra_Neko_Rei

summary: When Voldemort came to kill Harry, Lily met him with a SIG Sauer pistol she bought at a pawn shop. Seems Dark Lords die as easily as anyone else when you empty two clips into them.

Hailed as the savior of the Wizarding world, Lily has a live baby, a dead husband, the personal enmity of most of the Dark Lord's followers, and not the slightest idea how to put her life back together.

Phoenixes have it easy. Burn, die, rise from the ashes.

For humans it's a bit different. Sort of.

pairings: none

tags: angst

warnings: character death

look to your kingdoms by Vail

summary:  When she visits Diagon Alley, Hermione hates that the first thing the shop clerk in the apothecary tries to sell her is a potion to “tame her hair.” She likes her hair the way it is, curls and frizz, heavy around her shoulders. She thought the wizarding world would be different. (Black Hermione character study.)

pairings: none 

tags: drama

warnings: racism

The Chamber Strike by BlainelovesKurt, evansentranced  

summary:  Harry is sick of Umbridge and everyone pushing him around. Halfway through fifth year, he decides to Do Something about it. Warning: Contains nuts. And cults, falling sugar bowls, terrible handwriting, and beleaguered caretakers. Crack!fic. Written with transfiguredbunny over Thanksgiving of 2006 after we ate ALL the turkey.

pairings: none

tags: crack

warnings: none

Dudley Dursley's Most Unexpectedly Fortunate Flower by aTasteofCaramell

summary: Dudley Dursley is leading a perfectly normal life, his contact with his odd cousin limited to Christmas cards and peculiar memories.

Until his daughter sneezes and sets the curtains on fire.

pairings: dudley/ original female character, hinny

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: none

repeated a thousand times in golden ink by LullabyKnell

summary: Half-Blood Prince AU: In which Luna makes a friend through desk art and Ginny helps.

Shameless, essentially plotless friendship fluff.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

The Splendid Gallery by LullabyKnell

summary: Pre-POA AU: In the summer of 1993, the Grangers vacation in France and meet the Delacours. When the Granger-Delacour parents elect to explore Wizarding France as a group, Hermione Granger is thrown together with a girl named Fleur Delacour due to some bizarre idea that they will somehow magically become friends. Even though they have nothing whatsoever in common and Hermione doesn't like Fleur at all!

In which two of the brightest witches of their age become very good friends.

pairings: fleur/ hermione

tags: fluff

warnings: none

riding up the wrong path by ashen_key

summary: When Lily is eighteen, she cuts her hair and joins the army. The British Army.The British Muggle Army.

Despite what the gossip papers say, she leaves her wand at home. She's not a complete idiot.

– –

Oh, right.

Maybe take a few steps back.

pairings: none

tags: 

warnings: none

there will come a time, you'll see by aloneintherain

summary: They have Shepard’s pie for dinner. Ron and Hermione watch Harry fill up his plate and only start serving themselves when he picks up his fork and starts eating. Neville laughs into his wine glass. 

“How are you dealing with their mothering, Harry?” he asks.

Ron opens and closes his mouth for a minute, groping for an excuse. Eventually, Ron says, “He’s just so small, Nev.”

“Hey,” Harry says. “I’m seventeen. I’m an adult.”

Ron shakes his head at Neville. “My best friend is an infant.”

A curse regresses Harry to his seventeen year old self, physically and mentally. He doesn’t recognise this strange peaceful wizarding world, but there are two people he does recognise: Ron and Hermione.

 Based off this tumblr post.

pairings: romione

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

call it a badge of honor by dirgewithoutmusic

summary:  In those halls, they faced down Death Eaters under the guise of teaching robes. They faced them with raised wands, raised fists, or just raised chins, these children who kept telling stories in the dark about Harry Potter, who was going to save them.

pairings: none

tags: angst

warnings: none

Hogwarts, to welcome you home by gedsparrowhawk (FaceChanger)

summary: “You understand, Professor,” Harry began, after a moment, “that I don’t have my N.E.W.T.s. I never even finished seventh year. Between everything, I never had a chance the first time around, and then afterwards there didn’t seem to be much point. Hermione argued for it, of course, but I was so tired of Britain. So technically, I am completely unqualified for the position.”

“Quite a way to begin an interview, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said, dryly.

Or, three years after the war, Harry Potter becomes Hogwarts' newest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

pairings: hinny

tags: fluff, humor, angst

warnings:

THERMOS!, or, How a Muggle-Born Brought a New Age of Spell-Making to Hogwarts (Entirely by Accident) by susieboo

summary: Muggle-born witch Phoebe McDevitt just wanted her tea to stay warm during class. She didn't expect to accidentally start a spell-making craze among her classmates.

[Oneshot. Next generation. Based off a Tumblr post, which I will link to in the notes.] 

pairings: none

tags: humor

warnings: none

and ready to suffer and ready to hope by irnan (locked to ao3 users)

summary:  or, the one where petunia evans is a witch.

pairings: jily, hinny

tags: angst

warnings: character death

a very nice thing to say by LullabyKnell

summary:  Chamber of Secrets AU: Harry and Ron miss the train to Hogwarts. Luckily for them, they're not the only ones. Harry's not sure what's going on, what they're going to do, or who these people are exactly, but Ron seems to know these Lovegood people and it's not like there's anyone else to help them get to Hogwarts. 

tags: fluff, humor, 

pairings: none

warnings: none

yesterday we were just children playing soliders by girlmadeofstars

summary: What if, when Harry heard the Slytherin portion of the Hat's song, he payed attention when the Hat sung perhaps in Slytherin, you'll make your real friends? Imagine this: a little boy- beaten, and ignored, for his entire life. A little boy- friendless, and lonely. A little boy- desperate for the kind of friendship he had read about in books, seen on the television screen.

When the Hat offered him Slytherin, imagine that Harry said yes.

pairings: hinny, romione, astoria/ draco

tags: 

warnings:

The Transfiguration Incident, Or Pettigrew's Problems by Kyra_Neko_Rei

summary:  The lesson is transfiguring rats into teacups . . . only Ron Weasley's rat is actually an Animagus, which has dire consequences for the spell, for Peter Pettigrew, and for the Dark Lord's prospects for resurrection (and rather better consequences for Minerva McGonagall's reputation). Cross-posted (finally!) from Tumblr.

pairings: none

tags: humor

warnings: none

In the Name of the Brave* by LullabyKnell

summary: “Who’s that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?” 

“Oh, that’s Professor Black.”

- A slow-paced, self-indulgent, canon rewrite Philosopher's Stone AU.

pairings: none

tags: fluff, angst

warnings: none 

Take Two* by Bundibird

summary: Never let it be said that a Slytherin doesn’t know to take hold of an opportunity when it’s presented to him on a silver platter.

[A Fourth Year AU in which Draco makes the most of Potter and Weasley’s fight and takes a second shot at befriending Harry. For the Greater Evil, obviously.]

Cross-posted at ff.n

pairings: none

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: 

Percy Weasley and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by LullabyKnell

summary:  Pre-Philosopher's Stone AU: In which fourteen-year-old Percy Weasley is very stressed, does not get enough sleep, and accidentally and unknowingly saves the Wizarding World because of bad aim.

pairings: none

tags: humor

warnings: none

beautiful enough for the both of us by dirgewithoutmusic

summary: “You know Professor Lupin was a werewolf?” Hermione said, ten minutes into a very awkward lunch she had asked for in an equally awkward letter.

Lavender pushed a sauteed carrot through a little puddle of pasta sauce. “I think everyone heard about that one. Someone told the papers, or something, right?”

“Er, yes,” said Hermione. “Snape did. Which is what I– I mean, it’s related. Oh, I wish you’d gotten to talk to Remus about this. He was a lovely man.”

“Not as lovely as Lockhart,” Lavender said and she and Hermione spent a moment in wistful remembrance. “God, I feel old,” Lavender said.

“Anyway, Snape,” said Hermione. “Snape and Lupin. When Lupin was at school, Snape would make him a potion that would… tame him, on full moons. He could just curl up in his office and sleep by the fire. If you’re interested, I’m trying to learn how to brew it myself.”

Lavender shook her head. “We’re not friends,” she said. “Never have been. So why are you doing all this?”

Hermione looked like she was trying to say “we’re friends,” but she couldn’t get it out.

--

Werewolf!Lavender, post-canon

pairings: lavender/ parvati

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: none

[ajkal2]

I heard there's this #WIPitgood thing going around where we all post WIPs! This is a WIP I had from ages ago, based on a tumblr post. Cannot remember for the life of me who posted it, just that it had the idea of Jack being secretly in the Harry Potter fandom and writing this mammoth fic that's the my immortal of this universe. It's actually way longer than I thought it would be? Enjoy!

Tw: therapy, discussion of overdose, Bitty hasn't read Harry Potter.

****

“Do you ever think about, like, the Big Questions?” Shitty asked, staring at Jack’s ceiling with bloodshot eyes. 

 “What questions?” Jack asked idly. 

“The big ones, y’know? Where is God? Why-Why does the universe exist?" Shitty threw his arms out, reaching up. "Do pigeons have feelings? Who... the fuck… wrote Wizarding Sports: An Analytical Narrative?”

Jack paused. “Excuse me?” He turned.

“Who wrote… wait. Waaaaait." Shitty scrambled to prop himself up, squinting in Jack's direction. "You haven’t heard of Wizarding Sports: An Analytical Narrative?”

Jack opened his mouth, then paused. 

“Brah. Braaaah.” Shitty’s head tipped backwards, thudding against Jack’s comforter. “But you are like. Obsessed with the Potter! You are so out of touch. Everyone’s heard of Wsaan.” Jack had no idea how Shitty just pronounced that. 

“Everyone?” Jack’s eyebrows creeped toward his hairline.  

“Yeah. It’s like- This huuuuuge fic. Huuuuuuge, brah.” Shitty spread his arms, eyes wide, nodding slightly.“But, get this, it’s about the history of sport. How Quidditch was invented and shit. How weird is that? Who wrote that? And it’s like, uber detailed and researched and- Who would care enough about sports, and- and history, and Harry Potter to....”

Shitty trailed off, staring at Jack. His eyes narrowed. Jack cleared his throat, shifting slightly in his seat.

“No fucking way.” 

****

It started like this. 

Jack stared at the ceiling. His hands wanted to tremor, but he held them still. 

The walls weren’t padded. Maybe they should be. 

“How are you feeling today, Jack?” asked the therapist he had to talk to. 

“Fine,” said Jack, without a hint of inflection. “I’m feeling just fine.”

She sighed, softly. The sound carried. 

Jack felt a bubble of anger and horror and grief rising through him, and viciously squashed it back down. He breathed, in and out, and stared at the ceiling. 

He could still feel everything from that night, a week or a century or a second ago. It roiled in his gut, churning against his ribcage. He’d been stupid to take so many so fast. He regretted it, in a dull sort of way. But he’d needed them.

If he took enough, they might work again, stop him feeling like this, feeling like shit- 

“Jack, I can’t help you unless you work with me.”

Jack didn’t move. That wasn’t a question, so he didn’t need to answer it. He could just trace the outlines of the ceiling tiles with his eyes.

“What do you want from these sessions, Jack? What are your goals?”

That was easy. “I want you to let me play again.” 

His therapist’s lips pressed together. She wrote something, the sound of pencil on paper grating against Jack’s ears. What did he want? He wanted her to shut up. He wanted everything to stop. He wanted to get out of this stupid place. He wanted Kenny’s arm around his shoulders. He wanted more pills than they'd give him.

“Any other goals?”

Jack’s jaw flexed. He pushed everything down. His head was filled with steel wire, scraping against the insides of his temples.

“Jack, I’d like you to try something new. Read a book, or draw. Find something you enjoy. Could you do that for me?”

Jack flashed her an empty smile. “Sure.”

****

Jack heard Ransom and Holster bellowing along to Hedwig’s theme from down the street. He smiled, steps lengthening, and Bittle scrambled after him. 

“What’s got you in such a hurry?” Bittle huffed, kit bag bumping against his back. 

Jack tilted his head towards the Haus. “I want to know which one they’re watching.” He slowed, matching Bittle’s pace. Bittle was probably tired, not used to waking up early.

“Which one?” Bittle’s nose scrunched up, and the corners of Jack’s eyes creased. 

“Yeah.” Jack fished his keys from his bag. “Shits usually calls me if they’re doing a marathon.”

“A marathon of what, exactly?” Bittle asked, eyebrow raising. His face was flushed from exertion, hair tostled. Jack blinked at him for a second, then the door creaked open. 

“Hey,” Lardo said, smirk curling her upper lip. “Chamber of Secrets, get your ass in here.”

Jack grinned, dumped his kit by the door, and flopped onto the couch. 

****

Read a book. Draw something. The only things Jack could draw were diagrams of pitches, player movements. The lead of his pencil kept snapping.

Jack looked blankly at the meagre shelf of books available to residents, hands shoved in his pockets. His hood was up. 

It didn’t really matter which one he picked. He thumbed down a paperback, one with a colorful spine. Trudged back to his room, book under his arm. 

He tossed it on the bed, stared at it for a moment, then flopped facedown right next to it. He used one finger to hold up the first page.

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.

****

“What.” Jack said flatly, staring at Bittle. He blushed under the scrutiny, swiping at his hair. He’d left a smear of flour on his forehead. 

“You can’t judge me! You thought Rihanna was in Destiny’s Child!” Bittle snapped, arms crossing. 

Shitty’s head lifted slowly off the table. A single page stuck to his cheek. “Bitty, did you just say that-”

“Yes! That’s way worse! It’s not a big deal I haven’t read Harry Potter! So what!”

Shitty hissed through his teeth. Jack stood, slowly. His eyes were fixed on Bittle. They narrowed, suddenly.

“Have you seen the films?” Jack asked urgently. 

“I- No!” Bittle admitted, his chin jutting out.

Slowly, a smile spread across Jack’s face. Finally. He turned on his heel, abandoning his laptop, and thundered up the stairs. Where had he put it, he knew he’d bought- aha!

Prize clutched in one hand, Jack loped back to the kitchen. Bittle was fiercely rolling out his pastry, but he turned at Shitty’s indrawn breath. 

Jack held up his battered, treasured copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. “Rule 1. No flour stains.” Bittle rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to protest. “Rule 2,” Jack continued, firmer. “No folding the pages. Rule 3,” and Jack smiled like a shark. “No watching the films. Not until you’ve finished the series. Agreed?”

“You boys.” Bittle huffed. He picked up his sheet of pastry, lining the pie tin with practiced motions. “Leave it by the side.”

****

Jack stepped out of the double doors. His skin prickled in the wind, the open air harsh against his skin. He turned his shoulder against the wind, and his father’s hand landed there. 

“Ready?” Papa asked, quietly. 

Jack breathed, in and out, and didn’t immediately respond. He took one step forward, away, and then another. He didn’t look at Papa. It was easier to talk if he didn’t look. “No.”

Papa walked beside him, leading the way. “If you need more time…”

“No,” Jack said, fumbling, harsh. “It’s like- The first game. After an injury. Not going to be ready.  Might as well.”

He could feel Papa’s gaze, feel the eyes on him. He wondered why there weren’t any cameras, why there wasn’t any reporters shouting for his attention. Baying for his blood. 

“OK, Jack,” said Papa. 

Jack’s fingers tightened around the strap of his bag. His therapist had given him the book, the first. There was a whole series, she’d said, for once he got out. 

****

Jack taped his stick in precise, calm motions, focusing on the feel of it, polished wood under his palms, the tug of the tape on his fingertips. He breathed, in and out. 

Ransom and Holster yelled something in unison, part of their pre-game handshake, and Jack’s eyes snapped to the sound. He should be used to this by now, the thrill of adrenaline, the sharp smell of sweat. Everything hit him harder, before a game. But it still shook him, a little. 

Breathe. In and out. Tuck in the last bit of tape. Put the roll away. In for seven, hold for five, out for seven. 

Jack’s eyes scanned the room, and settled on Bittle. He was sitting in his stall, fully kitted out, squinting down at- Oh. 

Jack was moving before he knew it, shoulder thumping into the stall. 

“Where are you?” he asked, and Bitty gave him an unsure smile. 

“In the locker room?” Bitty slipped a piece of paper- a receipt? -into the pages.

Jack frowned. “No, the book. What part have you got to?” Jack clarified, tilting his head in question. 

Bitty laughed nervously. “Well, they’re having a flying lesson. Neville’s fallen off, poor thing.”

Jack leaned against the side of Bittle’s stall. “Tell me what you think.”

****

Jack’s shoulder thudded against Bitty’s pads, and he yelped, crashing to the floor.

“Get back up, skate through it,” Jack urged, but Bitty just shook, leaning hard against the boards. 

Jack squatted, then reached out, hand resting on Bitty’s shoulder. 

“I can't do it,” Bitty gasped, hugging himself. “I-”

“You can.” Jack tightened his grip, ducking to look Bitty in the eye. “I know you can.”

“Not everyone’s a Gryffindor, Jack! I can't- I'm not-”

“Hey,” Jack tried to make his voice soft. “You're right.”

“What?” Bitty looked up, and Jack's heart twinged at the look on his face. 

“Not everyone’s a Gryffindor. Not everyone can beat their problems on the first try. But do you know what I thought, soon as I saw you bringing pie into that first meeting?”

“What an idiot?”

“No. I thought, there's a Hufflepuff.” Jack smiled at the memory. 

Bitty laughed, bitter. “The useless ones.”

Jack nudged Bitty's shoulder again. “The ones who work hard. The ones who don't give up, who welcome anyone, no matter what. The ones who can give a frat house yellow lacy curtains.”

Bitty snorted, eyes suspiciously shiny.

“You can do it, Bittle. Just gotta get back up.” Jack stood, offering Bitty his hand. 

Bitty took a deep breath. He took Jack's hand, pulling himself to his feet. 

“Thanks.”

Jack shrugged. “Ready to go again?”

Bitty rolled his shoulders, eyes narrowing. “Come at me.”

Jack’s eyes crinkled. “Oh, and by the way?” he said, smirk flitting to his lips. “I'm a Slytherin, not a Gryffindor”

Bitty gave him a Look. "I can believe that, Mr. Lets-Get-Up-At-4AM."

Jack smirked. "Let's go, Badger. On my mark."

[momo-t-daye]

Momo's self-indulgent AU

Premise: Single-parent Tobias Snape + Slytherin Lily Evans + same age!Narcissa Black

Comics/fics (more or less narratively chronological): 

Severus and Lily on the first train ride: Picture and ficlet

Acting Like a Proper Gentleman: Picture and ficlet

The Slytherin Common Room Fire: Picture and ficlet 

Say Cheese: Single panel comic

Grapefruit Intimidation Tactics: Comic

Lucius takes Severus to a Halloween Party: Comic

Severus takes steps to prevent future shaving: Picture and ficlet 

Sirius Black, musician: Picture and ficlet 

Lily deals muggle junk food and Severus read the dictionary at a young age: Comic

Lily plagiarizes Jane Austen for a good (?) cause: Comic

Severus considers photosynthesis: Comic 

Sirius Black experiences consequences after the Willow Incident/Severus gets some petty but fabulous revenge: Picture and ficlet 

Sirius Black helps Severus study for the O.W.L.s: Fic (link to Ao3) and picture

Lily plays Quidditch and has bad taste in men (Severus also has bad taste in men): Comic

The giant straw goat outside of the Hog’s Head prompts conversation: Picture and ficlet

Severus chaperones the first date between Lily and James: Picture and ficlet

AU Moments: 

Carnivorous Clover: Picture

Yule Party Mischief: Picture

Snowball Ambush: Picture and Ficlet 

Ice skating issues: Picture

Tutoring the Biggest Menace in the Lab: Picture 

Narcissa rides a bicycle: Picture 

Getting ready for a party: Picture 

Midsummer Preparations: Picture

Peanut Gallery in the Tea Shoppe: Picture

Harry Years:

Reunion #1: Severus judges the ugliest moustache; comic

Reunion #2: Severus judges the ugliest beard; comic

The Reverse Ouroboros: Comic

Moving into Number Seven, Privet Drive: Picture and ficlet

The Godmother: Comic

The Rescue Team: Comic

The Court Jester: Comic

Grounded: Comic

Co-parenting: Comic

[lawnierose]

Harry was staring up at the ceiling in his tiny bedroom. This summer after the Tournament had been one of the worst with the Dursleys. Right at the end of the Tournament he had been kidnapped by Voldemort and used in a ritual to bring the Dark Lord back. In his attempt to escape he had been hit with an Avada. Instead of killing him it had apparently killed some aspect of Tom’s soul that had been attached to his own. When he saw his parents in the weird “in between” place, they told him it was a Horcrux. When he woke up, Tom and his followers had been taken by surprise allowing him to reach the cup and Portkey back. Dumbledore had still sent him back to his awful relatives, who proceeded to beat him and starve him worse than ever.

He was lucky for his hidden stash under the floorboard. Otherwise he would have died of starvation this time. He was lucky the twins were sending him packages. They were the only ones sending him mail this summer. According to them, it seemed Dumbledore had told everyone not to send him letters or anything else. Luckily, this had caused the twins to lose faith in the meddlesome old bastard. Harry had a running list in his mind of everyone who was going to pay. Vernon and Dudley for the constant abuse. Petunia for the neglect, and for turning a blind eye when Vernon took Harry into the special room in the basement. Dumbledore had lost his little weapon, that much was for sure. Harry wanted to ruin the man before killing him.

Of the Weasley’s, he knew the twins were with him as was Charlie. He wasn’t sure about Bill yet. The rest could go fuck themselves, including Ron. As for the rest at school, he had Hermione, Neville, and Luna. No one else believed him about Voldemort coming back, and Dumbledore had thrown him under the bus to the ministry to save face. So Harry lay there, his 15th birthday ticking closer. He stared at the tempus he had wandlessly cast and held, trying to ignore the pain from today’s Harry Hunting adventure. He watched as the time rolled over from 11:59 to midnight. He barely got a wish out, just wanting to be able to be who he wanted to be. Suddenly, pain flared through his whole body and the world went dark as he slipped into unconsciousness.

He was awoken several hours later by a pounding on his door. “Freak, where’s our breakfast, how dare you have a lie in. I’m coming in there.” Harry popped up quickly, reaching for his glasses. His hair seemed to graze his neck and as he ran his hands through it, it was smooth and silky and had grown several inches. “What the bloody hell” he thought. He tried to scramble from the bed but was tangled in the threadbare sheet he was given. Vernon burst through the door just as Harry was standing up. His uncle’s eyes were filled with shock and rage as he stared at the other person in the room. “What the fuck freak? You couldn’t keep yourself from getting any freakier could you.” Harry looked down for the first time. It seems he had shrunk despite already being small. This had caused the huge t-shirt from Dudley to slip off a shoulder, exposing a small breast. Harry could see a matching one under the shirt as well. Eyes widening in terror, Harry realised he had a pussy as well. He jumped back as his uncle screamed at him. Vernon was leering at him and Harry began to quake in fear. “Seems you need time in the special room today girl. Come here!” With that, Vernon grabbed the young child by a fistful of hair and began dragging her through the house.

~A.L.A.H.P.~

Later that evening, a lone figure was looking upon the house at Number 4, Privet Drive. Feeling very much himself, more so than he had in decades, Tom Riddle, commonly called Voldemort or Dark Lord, stared as he watched the three muggles pile into some sort of muggle transportation with trunks and take off. “This is where the Light kept their so called Savior. With muggles of all things.” It had taken months before he was able to come find the boy. First, he had to deal with the results of Pettigrew botching the potion for the ritual. He was supposed to come out looking like his former self. Once back, he did realise that a large amount of his sanity had returned to him. He realised he was a fool to have split his soul as he had. As soon as he had done it the first time, all of his plans began to take a more violent and insane approach. He quickly gathered his Horcruxes and performed a ritual to restore his soul and even more of his sanity. Then it was time to hunt down the boy. It was just random good luck that the one tracking spell had hit the boy. Once he was sure he was alone, he stretched out with his magic to check the wards on the house. He stepped back in shock to find nothing of the sort on the building. Cautiously, he slipped forward.

Nothing, absolutely nothing was keeping him out. Stretching out he felt darkness in the house. It first led him to a small door under the stairs. It reeked with darkness as he pulled it open. Absently he realised the door could only be opened from the outside. Inside he found a school trunk. Then his eyes caught something written on the wall. “Harry’s Room” was written on the wall in what could only be blood. Shocked he looked around, finding a few broken toys and a crib mattress tucked away. Tom tried not to let his thoughts go where the evidence was pointing. No he could not pity the boy. He was here to finish what he started. Yes, he was sane again, and he should have never listened to that half a prophecy to begin with, but he had made it true by marking the boy. He couldn’t stop now. He quietly shut the door and moved up the stairs until he came to a door with seven padlocks on it and a pet flap at the bottom of it. He could practically see the darkness seeping out under the door. It was far heavier here and for once Voldemort was terrified to open a door. Steeling himself and waving a hand he proceeded to unlock all the locks and open the door. His eyes fell immediately upon the tiny bed in one corner. There stripped naked, limbs bent at entirely wrong angles, and wounds bleeding so much the bed was tinted red, was a young girl looking barely twelve. Glancing up the famous scar was still on her forehead. He needed answers, ones he would not get if she died. He pulled his wand and placed it to the mark on his own arm, calling to a very specific follower.

~A.L.A.H.P.~

Severus was lounging in his study at Hogwarts. It was just before bed and he was reading the newest potion journal and sipping on firewhiskey. He had his own research published in this issue, under a false name of course. This was why he loved summer. No students, and he could work on his research and even produce new formulae to patent. He was far wealthier than anyone knew thanks to several medical formulae he had perfected. He had just picked his tumbler up when a searing pain lanced through his left arm. He dropped the tumbler, cursing as he quickly threw on more appropriate robes and hurried out to the edge of Hogwarts’ wards. He quickly apparated straight to his lord and fell to his knees as soon as he arrived. “Get up Severus there is no time for this. I hope you brought potions or have access.” His head snapped up hearing emotions in the Dark Lord’s voice he never thought possible. Glancing around he realised he was in a tiny room in a place he did not recognise. “What was that smell? He wondered. “Move it Severus, Harry Potter is dying and not by my hand.” Severus’s head whipped up to stare at his master’s face only to find it staring elsewhere. He followed the glance until he beheld the sight on the bed. “This is a girl my lord.”

“Severus be glad I need you or I would be cursing your incompetence right now. Look at the scar. I don’t know how, but Harry is now the girl-who-lived and I would know why she changed and why she is dying.” Suddenly, both men froze as the girl coughed harshly, blood spraying from her mouth. Lily’s green eyes stared back at them barely focused. “T-tom, here to kill me. Just end it please!” Both men were shocked, but Severus was pushed to action as the girl's body went completely limp. He was pulling potion after potion out of his robe, which had a special pocket linked directly to his private stores. “My lord, I will do what I can but even a cursory glance tells me there are injuries here beyond my skills. We need to get the girl to Narcissa. Her healer training far outweighs my own.” Tom merely nodded and let Severus work. Severus eventually informed him he had done what he could and Tom scooped the girl up in his arms. He marvelled at how light she was and tried not to let his rage blind him. With that he Apparated directly to his room in Malfoy Manor, Severus right on his heels. “Tinky!” he yelled out. As the house elf appeared he was already giving instructions. “Go get Lady Malfoy and bring her here immediately.” With a pop the elf was gone and he laid the girl on his own bed. There was a pop and a shriek behind him. “Unhand me you loathsome...Oh my Lord, what is requested of me?” The Lady Malfoy was attempting to look less ruffled as she bowed. Suddenly, her eyes alighted on the bed and noticed the famous scar on a very female body. “My Lord, Severus, what has happened?” Tom spoke up, swallowing his anger. “All will be talked about, after we save her life. Severus did what he could.”

It took well into the morning, but finally Narcissa breathed a sigh of relief. “She is out of the worst of the danger my Lord. There is much yet to be done to bring her to full health and she should really see the Goblins to find out the extent of what has been done. I cannot tell if her magic changed her to look this way or if this is her original form and she was held under some sort of potion or spell.”

[noxtms]

IN CHARACTER DATE : december 17th, 2020. SYNOPSIS : a visit paid to the dursley’s. TRIGGER WARNINGS : muggle attack.  

MR & MRS DURSLEY of number four, privet drive, were very proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. they were the last people you’d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they had never held with such nonsense.

mr dursley had once been the director of a firm called grunnings, which made drills. he had retired summer before last with a rather impressive send off, and now spent much of his time frequenting the local golf course. mrs dursley was thin and blonde and had twice the usual amount of neck, which came in useful as she spent so much of her free time craning over garden fences and spying on her neighbours. their son, dudley, once believed to be the finest boy that one would find anywhere, no longer lived with them. he’s away with the army, mrs dursley would tell anyone who asked after him, her lips pinched tightly. serving queen and country. 

the dursleys did a rather good job at pretending they had everything that they wanted, but they also had several secrets, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover them. they didn’t think they could bear it. over two decades before, mr and mrs dursley had awoken to discover a baby boy left upon their doorstep. well, mrs dursley had shrieked and dropped the milk when she found him there - and this was the start of it, you see. the very start of all the trouble. harry potter ( that was this boys name ) was the son of mrs dursley’s sister, mrs potter. they hadn’t spoken for several years to this point, and they would never speak again, as mr and mrs potter had been killed, their son orphaned, left to the only living relatives he had left. they had never wanted their son to mix with a child like that : one as unnatural as harry potter. but they really hadn’t had much of a choice. 

they had tried, of course, to force the magic out of him. they wouldn’t have considered themselves very good muggles if they hadn’t. but it proved to be quite impossible, and over the years of raising their nephew, mr and mrs dursley had to put up with a great deal of unusual situations that led to a certain sort of relief when, finally, the boy came of age and left. they saw the period of time where they themselves had to go into hiding - leaving number four, privet drive - as the last in a long line of accommodations they had to make for the boy they had never wanted. they hadn’t expected this to end with his death, but there wasn’t very much that they could do about it. and this was their way of thinking : it was out of their hands, and so too, was the boy.

now, they had never expected for their son, dudley, to want to leave to his world - and they made it clear that if he did, he wasn’t welcome back. but dudley made his choice and the dursley’s made theirs, and six years ago, they returned to number four, privet drive. 

when mr and mrs dursley retired to their living room on the dull, dark wednesday night that our story picks up on, they really weren’t expecting any visitors. mrs dursley, clutching a china cup filled with tea, gossiped happily as mr dursley searched the couch cushions for the remote, flicking on sky news and allowing the dulcet tones of the news anchor replace the gritty voice of his wife. now, were they to have glanced out the window - mrs dursley’s favorite activity, most evenings - then they might have seen several figures appear quite suddenly and almost as if from nowhere, right in the middle of the street. 

it was just after seven when there came a knock at the door. it was very late for visitors - mrs dursley had already slipped on her nightgown, and told mr dursley in no uncertain terms that if it was one of his golf friends, they would have to talk on the front porch. he grumbled about how he wasn’t expecting anyone all the way to the front door, which he unlocked and pulled wide with no real hesitation. 

mr dursley froze. fear flooded him. it was followed, swiftly, by anger. there was no denying the group of individuals on his front door step were one of his lot - he had never been able to stand the funny get ups they wore, and even in the dim porchlight, the robes were unmistakable. the dursleys were of the opinion that they had washed their hands of the magical world when their nephew had died and their son had chosen to leave. in simplest terms, this was an invasion of their privacy. 

“you have no right to be here,” mr dursley said, rather sharply. they had never had to deal with this, before. the first couple months after they had returned, they worried about number four, privet drive becoming a hub for this... riff raff to come goggle at the home of the once boy who lived. word had finally & evidently gotten out, and mr dursley was simply not going to abide by it - his foot was coming down, and it would never happen again, not if he saw to it.

he went to close the door. it was stopped with a small thud, and at first, he thought that one of them must have used magic to stop it. when he opened the door a little to look, he found that one of the nearest individuals - a tall man who’s face was covered by shadow - had stuck his foot out. mr dursley opened his mouth to say something, but before he even could, the small group were on the move.

the flash of a wand - held out from beneath one long cloak - was enough to keep mr dursley ahead of them, moving through the corridor as they bundled their way inside and shut the door behind them. his heart hammered and his cheeks seemed to grow more red by the second, with him finding it rather difficult to find his voice, all of a sudden. this lot certainly knew how to be intimidating, and he wasn’t very sure what to do. he scuttled along until he reached the door to the living room, and in a hurry, he pushed his way through it - closing it behind him for good measure and pushing in the little lock.

“petunia-” he began, moving away from the door and towards his wife. the note of alarm to his voice drew her gaze immediately, but she had no time to ask what was wrong and he had no time to explain before their living room door exploded inwards, leaving a mess of splintered wood, plaster and, when it slammed into the fireplace across from it, several ornaments and picture frames.

mrs dursley screamed and clambered to her feet, and her husband, who realized with a whimper just how close he had been to being caught in this explosion, rushed to her side. 

into the room poured the individuals from the hallway, one after the other. it was the man who had used his foot to stop mr dursley from closing the front door who had his wand out, now, and seemed to be the culprit, but he wasn’t the first to step inside. this honor fell to a woman with wildly curled hair knotted atop her head, a foot shorter than him, who everyone seemed to fall into step behind. the man remained close to her, always, but the others spread out around the room - blocking off all avenues for possible escape, even while mr and mrs dursley shrank into the corner of their sitting room, trying desperately to move away from them.

“l-l-leave-” mr dursley said. he meant to yell, but he couldn’t quite manage it. “leave this place at once-” 

“you have something that i need,” the woman announced, acting as if she hadn’t heard him at all. “give us the boys belongings and we’ll leave you be.” 

the boy. mr dursley had comforted himself many times over the past few years with the thought that they were done with all this carry on, now. the boy was gone. there was no reason for anyone to come near him and mrs dursley, especially as the man who had come to release them from their ‘safe house’ knew very well what he and petunia thought about his kind. he hadn’t been able to see how he and petunia could get mixed up in anything that might happen, again... hadn’t thought it could affect them... hadn’t realized how wrong he was.

“we don't- we haven't got- we-" he spluttered. 

"it's all gone," petunia said, from his side, her voice shaking. "everything we had is gone."

the woman looked towards his wife as if noticing her for the very first time, glint in her brown - bottomless, he thought - eyes. her expression didn't change in any way that he could see, but something shifted, and mr dursley felt rather as if he had been doused in ice cold water. she addressed petunia, now, "gone?" 

"inkwells and toad spawn and magic trick books-" mrs dursley's confidence did not grow, exactly, as much as an almost forgotten disdain resurfaced. just the thought of all the unnatural things they had lived with for so many years and disposed of double quick was enough to bring a certain venom back to her voice, the kind reserved for her nephew, "it's gone. burned. thrown away. it was useless to us." 

“i do hope that you’re lying.” the woman frowned. it was only the smallest change to her features, the slightest twist of her mouth, downwards - but mrs dursley shrunk back even moreso, now halfway behind her husband. “though i can’t say that it’ll go much better for you, if you are. i can’t stand liars.” 

petunia whimpered.

the other woman didn’t seem to notice and, with a sigh, shook off her cloak - draping it across the arm of the man still stood at her side. from a hidden pocket on her side she extracted a coal black wand. 

a breeze ruffled the neat hedges of privet drive, which lay tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect horrifying things to happen. the neighbours of number four slept peacefully, not knowing they were so near to such a story, not knowing that they would awake in a few hours time to the sound of sirens, nor that they would spend the next few weeks living in the middle of a media circus as news vans and reporters paid visit to the soon to be widowed husband of mrs petunia dursley.

they couldn’t know that, at that very moment, a woman was turning her wand onto another and then, with an air of casual impatience, saying : avada kedavra. 

[thunder-the-ranger-wolf]

Possible Snippet from Had Enough: The Dreamsight Remix

Summary, the tag to follow

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. Their nephew would tell you otherwise. Normal people didn’t wake up in a just-big-enough space that he could barely turn around in as he got older. Lately, it felt like he couldn’t even fit in the cupboard. Perhaps it only worked because he was so skinny.

He knew for a fact that Dudley would never fit in this small space. Not only would the bigger boy struggle to get himself in, but he’d also be claustrophobic in under a minute! According to the librarian, it meant that someone was scared of small spaces. Harry couldn’t quite afford to be scared of small spaces since he spent most of his time in a cupboard, but he could imagine that Dudley, Aunt Petunia, and Uncle Vernon wouldn’t last here.

It was early in the morning after a day of cleaning to get ready for Dudley’s birth-week. Two weeks in advance. Aunt Petunia had never really done this before, so it was safe to say that Harry was stunned by the turn of events. Cleaning was never doled out as a punishment, it was just something he had to do because the Dursleys sure wouldn’t.

Now cooking was definitely a punishment. Especially since he often wasn’t allowed to eat what he made for the Dursleys. If he wanted food, he would have to stand at the stove hours before the main meal was to be prepared and it was nowhere near as good as anything he made for the Dursleys. They insisted on that.

It was early in the morning after a day of cleaning and Harry. Could. Not. Sleep. He was sore and his head hurt and the fumes from the cleaning products had followed him into the cupboard, making him feel extremely nauseous. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but he hadn’t been able to sleep that well before tonight either. You see, he’d been having strange dreams over the past month now about people who could do amazing things. Fly, make things move, make things appear out of thin air, or bring something to them… in one set of dreams, he could talk to snakes. In another, an adult crumbled to dust at his mere touch.

The whole thing was right out of a fairytale and it happened at a place called named after a pig with acne! So between the strange dreams and being sore after cleaning, it was safe to say he wouldn’t be doing much sleeping. He tossed and turned but couldn’t find any position to lessen the aches or his headache or the smell. So he quietly pushed open the door to the cupboard. Thankfully, Aunt Petunia only locked it when he was in trouble. So he was able to creep out forward and head for the door.

He passed the kitchen, still sparkling clean because no one had been in it since he left a few hours ago. The wooden table and chairs tucked in the corner had been a struggle to move. Thankfully, he didn’t have to sweep behind the refrigerator on the opposite wall. Harry opened the front door, thankful that the Dursleys had no dog like Aunt Marge did that would wake everyone up at the slightest movement. He locked the bottom lock and walked out of the house.

It was summer, hot in a way that was average for Little Whinging and muggy at that. Harry stood in the center of the sidewalk for a few moments, taking in the surreality of being out this late. Alone with only the calm night to prove that he wasn’t supposed to be outside.

Eventually, he figured he should find somewhere else to be. No one was really out at this time of night but the Dursleys could have heard the door open and come to investigate. Harry chose to turn left and started jogging. There was a crosswalk not long after that and he chose to go straight. It was better than turning since it gave him less of a chance to circle the block.

Going straight turned out to be the better option, so Harry kept going until houses turned into buildings. The library was a few blocks away from the Dursleys. Closed, of course, for this time of night.

Something told him that standing out in the open wasn’t the best idea, even if no one was around. He listened to his instincts and jogged past the library.

He kept going until he found an all-hours store. Aldi’s was nearby, though the Dursleys preferred more upscale places. There had to be a bench or something around here… when he had no luck, he went into the store. Maybe if he looked pitiful enough, someone would get him something.

Or he could find some work to do. Everyone needed someone to clean and he was pretty good at that. Some words were painted on the wall to his right when he walked in. No one was bagging their groceries but the entrance and the exit were the same doors, so it made sense for the counter and the sign to be there:

THANK YOU FOR SHOPPING AT ALDI'S IN LITTLE WHINGING!

The sign proclaimed in navy blue block letters.

Harry looked around for a bit but no one was really there. He figured the staff must have their own place and wouldn’t really notice of he sat by the chips for a maybe a minute or two.

“Hey!” Someone called, immediately proving him wrong. “I know you, you’re the Dursley boy.”

Harry turned, confused, to find one of the neighbors with a trolley full of groceries.

“What are you doing out at this time of night?” The older man asked.

“Hello, Mr. Jacobs. Couldn’t sleep.”

“And I bet your aunt and uncle don’t know you’re out here… or care, really. Feel like doing Melanie’s gardening tomorrow?”

Melanie Baker lived across the street from the Jacobs family. Mr. Jacobs’ son was the one to stop all games of Harry Hunting that Dudley and his gang tried to play.

“I’ll have to see, sir. I did some cleaning earlier so I might not be in the best shape for gardening tomorrow.” Harry admitted, hoping it wouldn’t backfire.

“Yeah, I saw your limping when you came in here. Go pick out a few things you like and add them to the trolley, you must be half-starved.”

“The clothes are pretty big, Mr. Jacobs.” Harry offered defensively. He wasn’t that small.

“I’m sure they are, and that’s not exactly a point in Vernon’s favor.” Mr. Jacobs scoffed. “Go on, then. Two snacks and a drink, maybe.”

Harry nodded his thanks and bolted through the aisles. He had to choose carefully because the longer he was outside the more he realized that he wouldn’t be able to go back in. He settled for a large bag of crisps, a cola the size of his hand, and a chewy the length of his forearm. Mr. Jacobs took them with a knowing smile and rang them up with no problem.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Anytime, kid… I’d take you home, but I’ve got to head into work. Bill is going to get the groceries if you want to stay with him.”

Harry wasn’t sure he could stay in a house. Especially not one still on Privet Drive, where Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would know he’d gone.

“Maybe later, if that’s still alright with you.”

“Sure, sure,” Mr. Jacobs offered easily. Tell you what, if you take all this from the trolley to my boot, I’ll give you ten pounds.”

Harry jumped at the chance. He might be able to come back to the store later and get something for himself! Besides, loading the groceries was no hard task and the smell of cleaner was gone from his clothes. He had less of s headache now and it was easier to lift things into the boot and make sure nothing got squished. Like eggs or bread.

Mr. Jacobs commented on a job well done and gave Harry the money, which Harry immediately slipped into his shoe. Mr. Jacobs was off with one last meaningful look at Harry. He scampered through the cark park with his new fare. Someone’s radio was loud enough to hear the news:

“Good morning, Surrey! It’s a beautiful morning in Little Whinging and despite the hour, it is hot hot hot!”

The man went on to say that it was almost seven so Harry figured he better start looking for someplace to sit. Maybe the park nearby, at least until he could figure some things out when places started opening.

He found the park he was looking for and scarfed down his food. The crisps were half full by the time he was full and the chewy half gone. The cola was untouched so far. Even as the sun rose, nobody passed him. He stretched briefly and kicked out his legs, glad to feel warmth returning to them. The only way out of Privet Drive, let alone Little Whinging, would be to follow a car and hope for the best. People were starting to pull from their driveways, so while it seemed like Mr. Jacobs had an early start, he could just be trying to beat traffic.

Someone called out to Harry and he froze. He’d gotten lucky with Mr. Jacobs leaving him to his own devices, but not everyone would. He knew for a fact that going back to the Dursleys meant never seeing the outside of his cupboard for the rest of his life.

“Morning, kiddo, it’s Mrs. Alfers from Number Ten. I haven’t seen you out this early in a while,” A woman with brown hair and blue eyes wore a sympathetic smile. She leaned out of a powder blue mom-car. It was a small two-door, four-seater with very little trunk space.

“... then again, it is Dudley's birthday so I guess the Dursleys would want you out early… do you want to come with him to work today?”

He jumped at the chance. There was no reason not to.

“Every other time I've offered to take you off their hands for a day they've always got some excuse, but my son has seen how Dudley treats you. It's not right.” Mrs. Alfers insisted as he opened the door.

“Buckle in.” She reminded him before taking off down the road. This he could handle.

“What do you do?” Harry asked quietly. It had been a few minutes since they left the rows of houses so he figured it was safe to talk.

“I'm a secretary in London.” Mrs. Alfers informed him. “I take notes and answer phone calls. My husband is a salesman at Grunnings.”

Uncle Vernon works there, Harry recalled.

London could work. If Mrs. Alfers didn't take him back then he could just stay there. Find some way to get a job.

It’s not like Harry could stay at Privet Drive forever. Not if he wanted to get to the bottom of the strange dreams he’d been having.

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

The guard at the door was cheerful enough and saw no problem when Mrs. Alfers declared that Harry was her nephew. He could only assume that her brother or sister was alright with this. There was no point in protesting. He was given a visitor's badge after walking through the metal detector. He didn’t have much contact with Mrs. Alfers, so why would he know where she worked?

He spent a fair amount of time listening to Mrs. Alfers clack away at a keyboard. The motion of her fingers and the resulting taps were foreign to him. It was annoying when Dudley smashed away at his games with big meaty fists but this was… gentler somehow.

They broke for lunch after hours of writing on both their parts. Harry didn't ask and Mrs. Alfers didn't say what she was working on. Likely couldn't. London was foreign to Harry, so he stuck close to Mrs. Alfers, tracking her every move as best he could. Things got awkward when they hurried out the door to a McDonald's not too far from where she worked.

She ordered two fish and chips and bottled waters. It felt off to be at a McDonald's when it was a place Dudley always bragged about. Like he didn’t belong there. They munched on their fare in-store and went back to the office.

“Alright, Harry?” Mrs. Alfers asked, peering at him with concerned blue eyes.

“Fine, thank you.” He murmured quietly.

The rest of the day passed in a similar flurry of clacking, and by the time Mrs. Alfers was ready to leave, Harry had filled an abandoned notebook with musings of what his dreams could mean. There was a green light and people were flying and waving sticks… He didn't know what to do from there. If he went back to Privet Drive the Dursleys would lock him in the cupboard and forget about him. If they even noticed he was gone. But he didn't know anything about London. He wouldn’t last long here either..

“I can't go back with you.” Harry found himself saying. “I didn't think this through. I couldn’t sleep so I figured I could go for a walk but… if I go back they won't let me see the outside of the cupboard under the stairs.”

“Well, now, that's a rather harsh punishment. But I definitely can't leave you here on your own. Are you sure they won't take you back without harm?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then you'll be coming home with me.”

“But they'll know-.”

“Who will tell them?” Mrs. Alfers prompted cheerfully. “Certainly not me. With a bit more meat on your bones, some new clothes, perhaps a switch to contact lenses or maybe just a different pair of glasses, you'd be a whole new person. Jamie always wanted a little brother.”

“And if they try taking me back?”

“Well, Harry… I'm not sure they would. They're obviously not taking very good care of you. You deserve far better than what they're offering. If they truly do want you back then Jamie will have some excuse to come and see you every day.”

“I… okay. I'll go back with you.”

“Perhaps if you sit in the back this time you'll get some rest, take your mind off things.”

Harry did so, and the drive passed by in a blur.

[writingquestionsanswered]

What are the steps to creating a good first chapter? How should I start it without doing the typical alarm clock or something?

Beginning of the First Chapter

When you’re starting a story, it can be very tempting to start at the beginning of the first day of the story’s timeline. So that’s why we’re inclined to start with alarm clocks, opening eyes, or waking with a start from a weird dream. But those first pages of the story are more important than any other. They’re your reader’s first glimpse at the story’s world and the character who will guide them through it. They’re also your reader’s introduction to you as the writer–the quality, style, and ability to keep them interested. So you really don’t want to open on a throwaway shot like waking up first thing in the morning.

The first scene of your story should be a snapshot of your character’s life before their world is turned upside down. Bella is driven to the airport by her mom as she moves to Forks to live with her dad. Katinss wakes up and goes hunting with Gale before the Reaping. Mare navigates a crowd as she finds people to pickpocket on her way to First Friday. Tris gets a haircut from her mother before leaving for the five factions aptitude test. So, consider what you want this snapshot to look like for your character. What’s an everyday thing they could be doing before the crazy thing happens that changes their lives forever? Once you figure out what the scene is going to be, just dive right in.

Let’s say your story is about a woman whose plans change when she and her long-term boyfriend break up. And let’s say that breakup (the inciting incident) is going to take place during a fancy dinner, which she’s actually expecting him to propose during. So, where do you start the story? Well, what does an average day look like for your character? What do they do for a living? How do they spend their time? Who do they spend it with? Maybe the breakup story character works in human resources at the headquarters of a big restaurant chain, along with her best friend of several years. Why not start there? Maybe she’s in the break room eating lunch with her best friend, and they’re chatting about the fancy dinner coming up, and how they’re both sure the boyfriend is going to propose. Maybe they even get ahead of themselves and start enthusing over possible wedding details. This scene is your chance to establish a normal day for your character, introduce characters who are important to your character at the beginning of the story, illustrate some of your character’s flaws, and even introduce their internal goal. Plus, you get to start setting the wheels in motion toward the big fiasco, or whatever the inciting incident will be.

Some quick tips:

1) Start in the middle of something happening. Your character should be in motion, doing something–whether that’s eating, giving a presentation, driving, being driven, pickpocketing in a crowd, fishing with grandpa, writing on a chalkboard, shopping for a new bikini, serving ale in a tavern, whatever–they just need to be doing something.

2) Avoid starting with an info dump.

3) Remember, you want to hook your reader. Whatever’s happening should be interesting. It should be gripping. It should make the reader just curious enough to keep reading. Maybe writing on a chalkboard isn’t interesting in and of itself, but what’s being written on the chalkboard and how does it subtly relate to the themes in the story? What’s happening around the character while they’re writing on the chalkboard? What are they thinking about? There are interesting things happening, you just have to decide what they are.

4) Craft your opening line so that it’s really eye-catching. “It took seven years to get the letter right.” (Stephanie Garber, Caraval) “I’ve read many more books than you.” (Nicola Yoon, Everything, Everything) “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.” (J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s/Philosopher’s Stone) “It is the first day of November, and so, today, someone will die.” (Maggie Stiefvater, The Scorpio Races) “When he woke in the woods in the dark and the cold of night he’d reach out to touch the child sleeping beside him.” (Cormac McCarthy, The Road) A well-crafted first line helps to set the tone for your story and hooks the reader right from the start.

Best of luck with your first chapter! You’ve got this!