#Quiddich beater

[rottenherbs]

A Promise worth keeping // D.M x reader

Word count: 1.7k

Tags: Fluff! Mention of injury, blood.

Summary: At the final quidditch match of the season, you take a serious blow enshrining a win for Slytherin; but a certain blonde haired seeker makes sure to check on you in the infirmary.

Author's note: listen i… I literally don't know about this one lol but I had an hour to kill before work so whyyyy notttt.

Much love, Saige

// Requests open! <3 //

———————————

The silence made your stomach churn. This was it, the final moments of the final quidditch match of the season. Your aching muscles remind you of the vigorous fight that got you to this very play. Your green robes have seen better days and the slice against your brow bone twitches under the fog. As the crowd stays transfixed, a whistle is blown and the game returns once more.

Flying around ravenclaw students, you bump and weave with your bat hitting bludgers towards the rivals. Your eyes continuously check on your house seeker, Draco. You had to work together as a team to finish the game strong and you notice his movements change and become more precise as he catches sight of the snitch. As the ravenclaw seeker mimics Dracos movements, you send a bludger straight towards him, missing only by a small margin. A sigh escapes your lips as Draco’s hand grips the snitch in victory right as you get knocked off of your broom and hit the ground blacking out immediately.

-

Your eyes flicker open for a second before shutting quickly, noticing you're surrounded by students and teachers alike. The ground was cold and the sound of the students echoing faintly. In and out you come from consciousness as someone grabs your body and carries you off of the pitch.

“Shhhh” a gentle voice whispers. You couldn’t make it out, but a glimmer of white blonde hair was the last thing you saw before passing out once more.

Like a dream, the incident replayed over and over. A nightmare of a scenario but you could recognize the end of the game as a victory for slytherin. Even in your state, a smile creeps over your face as you are cared for in the infirmary.

-

Yes, Draco was the one to bring you to care. While all of the students celebrated the house cup final for slytherin, He pushed past professors and students to check on his team mate. The sight of your body lifeless shook him to his core. A pain swelling inside his chest, but as he saw you open your eyes and show signs of life, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Get out of the way!” He shouted angrily, throwing his broom to the side. His hands push you to lay on your back examining the injuries. No visible broken bones but blood was coming from somewhere. A low growl from behind brought him back to reality. Snape stood to the side whispering some conjunction of spells and the blood ceased to pool, color coming back to your cheeks. If almost bringing you back to life. Draco looked back at Snape for only a moment, trying to get a sense of approval to move you. Snape nods his head and Draco’s arms sneak under your body lifting you easily. He could see your chest lift and drop with each shallow breath trying to keep you steady. An overwhelming sense of protection enveloping you as he holds you tight.

-

It took around half a day for you to be fully awake and yourself again. The pain was minimal with the help of madam pomfrey's spells and tonics. She tried to retell the story to you how you got there but was interrupted by the doors of the infirmary opening with a slow creek. Draco walks in with his hands behind his back, eyes slightly bloodshot.

“I'll be right back dear.” She says to you quietly, leaving just you and Draco alone. He takes a few more steps towards you before speaking.

”That was a hell of a fall you took.” He smiled softly down at you.

“Had to make a hell of a finish.” You joked looking back at him. Something was different about him. While yes you were teammates and practiced heavily amongst each other, it was the first year you made the team and often you just kept to yourself, letting Draco lead and accomplish what he needed. It wasn't until this moment that you could recognize the softness behind his eyes. There was no fight to win, no points at a stake, and none of his goons next to him bolstering his ego. It was just… Draco.

”Honestly I came to check in on you, and give you something.” His hands stayed behind his back as he sat lightly at the edge of your bed. You sat up and cocked your head to the side.

“Is that so?” You said playfully, but groaning slightly as your movements were a bit too fast for your abilities. His eyes widened and hands came from behind him attempting to tell you to slow down.

“Alright don't get too eager.” He laughed as you leaned back in the bed. A glimmer of gold held in his right palm.

“Is that?” You started noticing his hands. Albeit they were pale and slender, his hands calloused and strong concealed the gift.

“It’s the snitch. From our game.” His palm opened revealing the small metal ball. Your eyes widened. Typically the won snitch stayed with the seeker who had caught it, it was tradition and a personal trophy that was kept in honor of the match.

“Draco.” You whispered.

“Please.” His voice was low and almost demanding. He held it out waiting for your hands to take it. You sheepishly hold out your own hand and he places it gently, lingering his fingers over yours.

“This game meant a lot to me. And you really mean a lot to me.” His eyes were not wavering. Your heart was fluttering, overtaking any pain that was left in your body and replacing it with anticipation.

“I was really scared. For the first time… for you. You fight like no one on the team and I hope you recognize that.” His hand continues to stay in yours, only the snitch in between. You nod slightly as he grips your hand and raises it to his mouth, placing a soft kiss on top of your hand.

“I'll make sure to come back and check on you. I promise.” Draco whispered. You couldn't respond but the look in your eye told him everything he needed to know. He squeezed your hand and got up from the bed, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles before turning and walking away. You were dumbfounded in the interaction, realizing how different you saw him before today. The way he walked with his head down, his hands flexing nervously as he got to the door. He turns just before leaving and sends a wink your way, making your cheeks flush with color. Just as the door closes, leaving you alone, truly alone, you fiddle with the snitch in your hand smiling to yourself. Your thumb resting on your knuckles mimimincing Dracos touch, almost wishing you could turn back time.

-

Later that night Draco kept his promise. He arrived just after supper, entering the infirmary in more casual clothing, some new bandages on his arm tending to the wounds he got himself at the game. His smile was more confident and his stride showed that. Once he closed the door behind him, you made eye contact and smiled sweetly up at him. The thought that someone would visit you, let alone the dark horse of the slytherin house, was a dream.

“You’re back.” You say sitting up.

”I'd never go back on a promise.” He says arriving at the foot of your bed. You nudge towards the chair placed next to you inviting him to sit. He takes the hint and gets as comfortable as he can in the small wooden stool.

“You’re looking better.” He notes. “You look… more like yourself.” His eyes looking over your face and hands. Taking in how your hair cascades around your face, framiling it softly. The cut on your brow bone is deep yet almost heroic. It showed your power and he could see that. He loved how much you endured in the game, the love for the sport seemed almost to match his. An escape to the school, to the cliques. Just the air, the broom, and a goal.

“I’m sorry we’ve never properly spoken before this. Seems unfair to start after you hurt yourself so badly for the game.” His eyes meeting yours, the sincerity in his words took you back. It never bothered you that he was busy most of the time. It was natural, he was himself and you were just you.

”Hey you're a popular guy.” You laugh trying to make light of his notion.

”Still you deserved more from me. As a leader and a teammate.” He says, his hand grazing yours. Your heart fluttered and looked down quickly to both of your hands.

“I can handle a rough game.” You say back to him, trying to keep your face stoic and unrevealing of your true emotions. He can see right past that, smiling softly at you.

“Yeah. That's what makes you special.” He starts, clearing his throat. “To the team, you are irreplaceable.” His hand envelops yours. Taking a moment to make sure you understood what he meant.

“Draco -“ You say looking at him. The silence of the room was astounding, the thumping of your heart echoing in your head. Before you could respond, he leaned in inching closer to your face. His hand gripping yours tighter. You squeeze in approval as he closes the gap between you. The kiss was soft and short. Just a small peck but it lit up the entire room. He leaned back trying to see your reaction praying that it wasn't too much too soon. You open your eyes to see him, just before closing them again and kissing him. His hands move to hold your face and kiss you deeper. The moment lasting a lifetime.

You break the kiss, looking back into his eyes.

“Do you think ill make the team next year?” You chuckle smiling slightly, hands entangled with his.

”I’ll make sure of it. I promise.”

[lavender-000]

REMUS LUPIN COMMENTATING ON GYRIFFINDOR VS SLYTHERIN GAMES (some time in 6th year)

-

Remus: Welcome to the quiddich games i'm Remus Lupin and I'm forced to be here I hope you fuckers enjoy my pain

McGonagall: Remus Lupin!

Remus: *ahem* sorry miss but we're off the two terms are flying up to... hit things? Honestly im best friends with the Gyriffindor captain and fucking the beater no clue what's- OUCH MISS IM SORRY but that was uncalled for simply stating fac- OUCH-

ANYWAY our captain Potter is about to score- and missed, call me delusional but I'm pretty sure he was staring at baby Black, really Potter? Let's all thank your captain as Slytherin now have the ball thing- quaffle? Aaaannnd they score well done James WELL DONE.

McGonagall: let's move on from James please, 10 points to Slytherin.

Remus: Of course and the game begins again OH Marlene is going for the other more aggressive ball thing-

McGonagall: bludger

Remus: yes that, and she hits it! Go her that was good it went straight for the Slytherin team and OH MY GOD MCKINNON YOU DIDNT JUST WINK AT MEADOWES but that was smooth, I'm sure she was impressed... I'm being glared at LETS MOVE ON OH WOW James? Did you just SCORE I'm suprised you didn't get distracted aga-

McGonagall: REMUS LUPIN!

Remus: Aanndd 10 points go to Gyriffindor Barty is definitely not happy with that i don't know what you do but go hit those angry balls! Make a show for your boyfriend!

Now the games start again Gyriffindor is ahead wow if only Regulus Black stopped staring at someone's THIGHS WE'D BE DONE

YOURE. NOT. SUBTLE. BABY. BLACK.

Remus: ...ladies and gentlemen Miss McGonagall just laughed she can also see the pin-

McGonagall: Remus Lupin please leave

Remus: Of course miss can I just...?

McGonagall: ...just make it quick

Remus: Sirius you look so hot right now I'm gonna f-

McGonagall: SAY ANOTHER WORD AND YOURE NEVER LEAVING DETENTION

Remus: f-all in love with you even more...

McGonagall: ...

Remus: ...shit did Sirius just fall off his broom?

McGonagall: thank Merlin, Regulus caught the snitch GAME IS OVER SLYTHERIN WIN, REMUS DETENTION LEAVE NOW!

-

-

The chaos if Remus was a quiddich commentator

(I love it)

[nancy-reads]

wake up

Pairing: Fred x Reader

CROSSPOSTED TO AO3

Words: 2.2k

Summary: Accidents are common in Quiddich. They happen nearly every game. But what happens when it's your boyfriend, Fred Weasley, and he might not make it out alive?

“First Quidditch game today!” You cheerfully bumped your boyfriend’s shoulder as you sat down for breakfast. “Are you nervous?”

“Not as long as a certain someone will be cheering for me,” Fred smirked. 

“Really?” you asked playfully. “And who could this ‘certain someone’ be?”

“Oh you know, just this devastatingly beautiful girl. She’s got the most gorgeous eyes in the world, and the prettiest hair…”

You couldn’t stop the smile from forming. “So you only like her for her looks then?”

Fred opened his mouth, but before he could answer, George and Lee began to make retching noises from across the table.

“In case you didn’t notice, there are other people here,” George said. “People who are trying to enjoy this lovely meal.”

“You mean you don’t enjoy hearing about how much I adore my-” Fred stopped as a piece of toast smacked him in the face. He swivelled to face Lee, jaw-dropping in mock anger. “How dare you!”

He grabbed his toast and prepared to toss it right back until you placed your hand on his shoulder. “Come on Freddie, let's walk to the pitch and get away from these poor, sad people who don’t know what it's like to be in love,” you said, sarcasm colouring your tone.

George stuck his tongue out at you as you grabbed Fred’s hand and dragged him away.

-

He held your hand the whole walk down to the pitch, claiming “I don’t want you to get cold!”

You hid your blush. “Freddie, it’s hot as Merlin’s balls out here.”

“Well if you want me to stop..”

“Shut up.”

“Sweetheart, I know you love me.”

“I’m supporting Ravenclaw.”

He placed his hand (the one that wasn’t holding yours) on his chest and gasped. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you said, slowing down as you reached the locker room. Before he could head in, you raised yourself to your tip toes to kiss him on the cheek. “For luck.”

Fred pouted. “I can’t have a real kiss?”

“Win the game and we’ll see.”

-

It was a perfect day for Quidditch. Sunny skies, barely any wind, and warm enough that you didn’t need your Gryffindor scarf. The stands were full of people sporting red and gold colors and holding signs in support of your team. 

Even though the teams hadn’t even entered the pitch yet, both the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw sides were already chanting cheers and conjuring red and blue smoke. 

You tapped your foot impatiently as you waited for him to fly onto the field. Quidditch may not have been your favourite activity, but you came to support both Fred and your brother Oliver. 

“I wonder who’ll win this one,” your best friend asked. “I mean, Quidditch was cancelled last year, so we don’t really have a base for this one.”

Oliver had already given you an entire lecture on Gryffindors chances for the year, but you elected to be optimistic. 

“Come on, Fay. There's no way we don’t have this in the bag. Cho Chang versus Harry Potter? Ravenclaw doesn’t have a chance.”

“Don’t jinx it!” Fay paused for a moment, then smirked. “And aren’t you forgetting your favourite player?”

 “Shut up. Of course Fred has got this, easy. The Ravenclaw beaters are shit.”

-

The Ravenclaw beaters were, unfortunately, not shit. 

As Fred and the rest of the team flew onto the pitch, you cheered as loudly as you could, beaming as your favorite player blew you a kiss. Oliver and Flint did their typical handshake, and the match began. 

Your watched Fred for the majority of the game, occasionally pausing to watch Oliver block a goal or one of the chasers score. It didn’t look like either of the seekers had seen the snitch yet, so you settled in, expecting a long game. 

The Ravenclaw beaters were ruthless; it was clear they’d taken some inspiration from Slytherin’s typical strategy. They were hitting Blugers at everyone, even if the players weren’t anywhere near the Quaffle. You had no idea how they hadn’t gotten any fouls yet.

“And Samuels sends a Bludger hurtling toward Alicia-- but one of the Weasley twins is on his way!” Lee announced. “And it’s blocked by Fred Weasley, nice one and--”

It seemed to happen in slow motion. 

“And Inglebee sends another Bludger-- WATCH OUT!!”

Inglebee’s Bludger slammed into Fred’s skull, just above his right ear. Even from so far away, you could see the gush of red exploding from his head as the Bludger made contact. 

Someone was screaming. It might have been you.

Fred immediately went limp and began to slide off his broom. 

By this point, you’re running. Running faster than you ever have in your life, racing down the stairs of the stands, running, running, running.

The stands have never been so silent. You couldn’t hear a thing when you reached the field,

You reached Fred before even McGonagall. He’s lying on the ground, surrounded by the whole team, bleeding more than you’ve ever seen a person bleed. You never knew how much blood a person’s body held until this moment. 

No one spoke. You’d never seen George so silent or so pale.

You knelt next to him and took his hand. It was faint, but you could still feel the beat of his pulse. 

He’s alive.

He’s alive.

He’s alive.

You finally breathed.

After what felt like forever, the professors arrived.

“Move! All of you!” McGonagall called, flicking her wand and conjuring a stretcher. “Out of the way!”

Everyone moved, faces sober as they allowed McGonagall to work.

Everyone, except you and George. You made eye contact as you clutched Fred’s hand and he brushed Fred’s hair back. 

“Miss Wood, Mr Weasley, we need you to move, he needs to go to the hospital wing as soon as possible,” McGonagall said, fear creeping into her voice. 

Why won’t your body move? You know it's important. You know that he has to get treatment. 

Then why won’t your legs work?

You clutched his hand tighter.

“Both of you, move, please,” McGonagall asked again. “Or we will be forced to remove you.”

Merlin, if he could just open his eyes, just move a little bit so that you would know that he’s okay.

“C’mon Nancy,” your brother touched your shoulder. “You’ll see him in a second.”

As Oliver pulled you away, allowing the professors to work, Percy pulled George towards you. Neither of you spoke, simply watching as they loaded him onto a stretcher and rushed him to the hospital wing

As you followed the team and the rest of the Weasleys to the hospital wing, you barely noticed the tears flowing down your cheeks and the blood staining your pants. 

-

The next thing you remember is sitting in the hospital wing. You think Madam Pomfrey tried to throw the team out, but you couldn’t remember.

Still, it was silent as she worked, muttering healing charms and feeding him potions. Oliver’s hand never left your shoulder, and you squeezed George’s hand when it almost got to be too much. 

A few moments later, Lee appeared, eyes red, and held George’s other hand.

An hour or so later, Fred’s parents arrived. Molly was pale, her red hair standing out starkly against her skin. Her hands shook, and she held tightly onto her husband as she joined our vigil.

Arthur blinked back tears and stood tall as you all waited. His hands shook too, but he grabbed Molly’s to support himself.

You tried to push the thoughts away that increased with each passing moment. 

What if Fred died?

What if you never saw his smile or heard his laugh again?

What if you were never able to tell him that you loved him again?

Bludger wounds weren’t uncommon in Quidditch. They happened nearly once a game, foolish sport. But if it was taking this long to heal him…

Magic couldn’t solve everything.

And so, you waited. 

-

Hours later, Madam Pomfrey emerged. She started to pull Molly and Arther away, but they waved her away and she spoke to all of us.

After a deep breath, she said. “I’ve done everything I can. Head wounds are dangerous, even for a wizard, and there's no guarantee. Even if he wakes up, he may have altered memories, or be very different from how you remember him.”

Fuck.

Your laughing, prankster, stupid Fred could be gone? He could have forgotten everything? 

The Freddie you knew could be gone forever. 

Your voice cracked as you asked, “When will he wake up?”

Madam Pomfrey blinked very hard before she answered. “It impossible to know, however, I would estimate that if he doesn’t wake within the week then,” she cleared her throat. “Then, we may have to begin making alternate arrangements.”

Molly let out a sob, and Ginny moved to stroke her back, eyes shining with tears. George simply stood there, eyes wide. You squeezed his hand, and he seemed to come back to reality as he covered his face in his hands.

“I can’t believe it. Four hours ago we were joking about blowing up a few toilets tonight and now…”

You nodded. “I know. I didn’t even kiss him goodbye.”

He didn’t respond, and Lee and Oliver were silent as well.

For the first time today, you took in who was actually in the hospital wing. Harry sat with Ron a few feet away, whispering to each other. Alicia, Angelina, and Katie were sitting together as well, and all of their eyes were red and full of tears. Alicia had her head on Angelina’s shoulder, and Katie had placed her head on her lap. 

Molly and Arther were sat with Ginny and Percy, all of them looking grave. Molly was beside herself, her sobs echoing throughout the hospital wing. 

After a few moments, Angelina’s group rose. She sniffled before saying:

“We’re going to go update our house. I-I’m sure they all want news.”

The groups nodded, and Percy stood. “Yes, that's er,” he sniffed. “That's a great idea. As Head Boy, I’ll come with you to deliver the news.”

The four of them left, and your vigil continued. 

-

McGonagall forced everyone to go back to their dormitories that night. By some miracle, you weren’t bombarded with questions about your boyfriend, although you thought that was mostly due to Oliver threatening everyone.

Even Fay, who’s the nosiest person you knew, didn’t pry. All she did was give you a hug and order you into bed as soon as you got back, even going as far as to bring you warm milk from the kitchens. 

Still, you didn’t sleep. Not a wink. All you could think about was your Freddie, sitting in the hospital wing, possibly dead or worse. 

It was difficult enough, sleeping without his arms wrapped around you and your head tucked into his shoulder, but sleeping was a whole new level of difficulty when he could be dead and you wouldn’t know.

You may never be able to fall asleep with him again.

As soon as it was light enough outside, you got out of bed and immediately set out for the hospital wing. You weren’t surprised to see George sitting at Fred’s bedside when you arrived. 

He looked up at you as you pulled the chair toward Fred’s bed. 

“Anything?” you asked.

“Nothing.”

You nodded and grabbed Fred’s hand, holding it until Madam Pomfrey ordered you out.

-

That’s how your days went for the week. You woke up, visited Fred until Madam Pomfrey threw you out, went to class, visited Fred, went back to class, choked down dinner, and visited Fred. 

So, it wasn’t uncommon that you were the only person in the hospital wing, especially when George had class. Madam Pomfrey gave you a few glares, however, she let you stay for the most part.

It was on the last day of the week, the last day he had to wake up when it happened. You’d talked to him all week, telling him little anecdotes and keeping him up with classes, but this was different. 

“Yeah, and next week we’re going to be having our test on counter-jinxes, so you better wake up in time to take it, or you're going to be completely behind.” 

Obviously, he didn’t respond. For some reason, your eyes began to fill with tears.

“Please, Freddie. You need to wake up,” tears streamed down your face and you kissed his knuckle. “The team needs you to wake up. Your family needs you to wake up,” you paused. “I need you to wake up.”

Was it just your imagination, or did he twitch slightly when you said that?

“God, I wish I kissed you before the game. Then at least we would have had a proper goodbye,” you kissed him on the forehead. “I guess that will have to do.”

He stirred again.

“Freddie?”

You waited a moment, hoping and praying and wishing, that maybe, just maybe, he might wake up.

“Sweetheart?” he slurred. “Are you there?”

“Thank Merlin!” you sobbed. “Oh my god, Freddie I can’t believe it.” You grabbed his face and began to kiss him all over. “I thought you were dead! Madam Pomfrey said you might not wake up!”

He laughed weakly. “You thought some Bludger could take me out? Give me a break,” he paused for a moment, staring right at you. “I’d never leave you alone.”

You sniffed and blinked back tears. “Good. At least you got some sense knocked into you,” you paused. “Just please, never do that again.”

He squeezed your hand. “Sweetheart, I promise you that I’ll always wake up.”

-

[theendwrites]

I don't really know how to start this, but heya! I'm an artist that is currently obsessed with HL, and has WAY TOO MANY characters in it! I'm mostly on twitter, but I had a tumblr some years ago and decided it was time to come back... especially if I could get to see more content on this game especially Garreth because I have a need and there is so little in comparison to other characters! Character info below!!

I guess I should start by presenting my characters, so here they are:

(MC) Selene Nichols: Ravenclaw. Introverted, Curious, Adventurous and Caring. Loves puzzles and exploring. They teached her how to be a "proper lady" and sometimes has a hard time breaking out of that. (Estella's sister, I pair her with Ominis)

Estella Nichols: Slytherin. Extroverted, Charismatic and Bold. Beater on the Slytherin quiddich team. She has a bit lost for most of her time in hogwarts (not literally) but she little by little finds her voice. (Selene's sister, I pair her with Sebastian or Imelda)

Sofia Krowe: Ravenclaw. Introverted, Protective, Stern and Warm. She is the ravenclaw Prefect/head Girl of her year. She is a seer and uses her visions to catch troublemakers when they are in danger or putting others in danger. You'll find her mostly on the library. She seems cold and misterious, but once you get to know her she is more like a mom friend that you can count on. (I pair her with Garreth)

Silas Lacklan: Hufflepuff. Amvivert, Kind, Loyal and Calm. He loves rescuing and taking care of beasts especially dragons. He considers both his beast and human friends important and takes really good care of them. He will always bring extra snacks to give. He plays as a Chaser.

Sun Owens: Ravenclaw. Extrovert. Logical, Organized, Trustworthy, Optimistic and Honest. He is the other prefect/Head Boy from their year in Ravenclaw. He is less forgiving than Sofia when it comes to that, even if he doesn't look like that, but does not go overboard. Has a fascination for troublemakers. He lives alone with his father, and they are poor, his goal is to have the best grades so he can have a cushy job and just relax without having to worry.

(MC) Caden Sawyer: Gryffindor. Extroverted, Kind, Confident, Sensitive and Charming. He loves exploring and the outdoors. He always ends up helping people. He is very aware of people being afraid of him, so he tries his best to make people comfortable around him, even if that means to leave. Comes from a family of witchunters, but escaped and was adopted by the Hills. (Cyrus and Killa's adoptive brother)

Cyrus Hill: (+2 years than MCs) Hufflepuff. Nervous, Timid and mature. He is the Hufflepuff HeadBoy, but doesn't believe he deserves it. He is self-concious (appearance), mainly because of his scars. Has flashbacks and axiety problems from being kidnapped and tortured, so his personality has taken a bit of a toll, but he always tries his best to make the rest feel better, especially his family (Caden & Killa)

Killa Hill: (-4 years than MCs) Slytherin. Extrovert, Energetic, Loud, Friendly and Ceerfull. She admires his brothers very much, and wants to become strong to protect them. She is a bit of an airhead, and her determination has no bounds. She will get what she wants. She is adorable.

Passer Lestrange: Slytherin. Introvert, Obnoxious, Pridefull, Spoiled, Clever. He is from the Lestrange family, and has been taught that he is better than others (blood purity shennaningans) but then Caden arrives and kind of, withough knowing breaks all of that down slowly. But untill the end of his 6th or during his 7th year... yeah no, he is insufferable. He likes Cheese.

Relationships between them!! I have two parallel worlds with a different story and characters each. They do not cross over (except AUs and interacting with other MCs... you know.) So many of my characters do not exist in the same place! I made a badly written infographic to provide help😊 If you read all of that, wow, thank you! I really appreciate it!! If you have any question do not hesitate to ask! See ya next time!!

[marlesbian]

How i perceive Marlene Mckinnon

art by olowka.pdf on ig

disclaimer: this one is the one i'm projecting the most with my headcanons, so if you don't agree with them pls stfu because all of these mean a lot to me (also i'm exposing myself a bit)

Basics:

- Marlene Martínez McKinnon

- she/any

- born april 24th 1960

- Butch Lesbian

- Argentinian

- genderfluid, doesn't care when people use other pronouns but is still under a femine gender identity.

- Gryffindor

- Has ADHD and severe anger issues.

Life, family and history:

- Her father is a muggleborn named Sergio and the Mother who came from a wizard family, named Helena. She has a brother older by 9 years named Daniel.

- They moved to the UK right after Marlene was born. Marlene is fluent in spanish because they only speak spanish in the house.

- Kind of a troubled child, she was always putting herself in some sort of fight (physical), as she got older she stopped resorting to violence but sometimes it as bigger than her.

- She grew up very close and sheltered by her dad, he didn't know how to deal with girls so he raised her like he did Daniel, teaching her how to do everything, like: carpentry how to use tools, how to fix things how to play football, how to fix car related things, he wanted herto be independent. Her mother always complained because she wanted a perfect well behaved ladylike daughter, so they had a rocky relationship her entire life.

- After she grew up, both of her parents resented her a bit because of how butch she was, she wasn't what they wanted. She would never be that delicate feminine girl no matter how much they wanted to. Alas, she was still their daughter, even resenting her, they still talked to her, they were just a bit passive agressive about it, complaining of how she dressed and acted but she was always invited for family events and they visited each other a lot during the war. She still went to her parents house a sunday a month for her dad's asado.

- Her brother was the one who taught them to play quiddich, since he learned in school and became a professional player after graduating.

- When Marlene was 5 years old she met James in diagon alley and they became instant friends, they were inseparable, they were always at each others house, which was easy since both lived in Godric's Hollow (GH), their families became friends so they were raised like brother and sister.

- Her dad was obcessed with football and so was Marlene, they even went to Mexico watch the 1970 World Cup (they even took James)

- She taught james to play football and they played it together all the time. Once when they were 12 james helped her play with some muggle boys, disguised as a boy herself.

- She loved their house in GH it was like a farm, big and full of light, lots of rooms and a huge garden.

- They had a dog named Harpy, she was the cutest black lab. It was a family tradition to go watch every world cup (football and quiddich, the Potters usually went along)

- When marls was 9, Peter came to live in GH and became an essential part of the trio.

Hogwarts years:

- She and Mary instantly bonded by being latinas and easily became friends. She was beyond happy when all her friends ended up in the same house.

- She entered the quiddich team in 2nd year with James. She played as a beater. In third year when Sirius entered the team and played with her nobody could stop the dinamic duo they were, their connection was unmatched, they always knew where the other was.

- Their friendship with lily though was different. Lily meant the whole world to her, they were best friends, twin flames. nobody could explain it, they just understood each other, they could speak without words, they would do anything for one another. Their friendship was platonic and romantic at the same time, Lily was the first girl she kissed.

- Marlene fell in love with Mary the second they met, but she only became aware that is was a crush in the end of second year. They were absolute best friends, Mary was one of the only other girls just as obcessed with football as she was. Mary introduced her to brazilian music. Mary and Marlene were both in love with one another at some point in their lives, but never at the same time.

- Lily was the first girl she kissed, her first friend, her closest girl friend. They met on the train before Lily separed herself from the boys with Snape, for some reason Marlene did go with Lily and they just talked for the entire ride, with Severus watching and making some comments, he was never marls' cup of tea, she didn't like the way he treated Lily.

- After Snape called Lily a slur in fifth year, Malene punched him square in the face.

- a quote to define her friendship with Lily "is it romantic? is it platonic? who cares baby, it's homosexual!"

- Marlene loved Lily and Mary so much, but in different ways. The three of them were inseparable. They didn't hang out much with the other girl in their dorm, Greta Catchclove, because she was always with her twin sister on the Hufflepuff common room.

- Marlene was James' biggest deffender, whenever Lily complained about him or treated him badly, she was always deffending him, saying he was the best person they knew.

-Dorcas is the love of her life. They were quiddich rivals in school (Dorcas Slytherin keeper). They were together through the war, both stronger together. They never distrusted one another.

How i perceive her:

Physical appearence;

- Bonde, white, very tall and muscular, had huge biceps.

- She kept her hair long up until she turned 14, then she cut it to her shoulders, in a wolf cut. On 7th year she shaved it to the scalp and then never let it grow out again. Always kept it ver short.

Style:

- Marlene was usually very masc presenting, liked to wear traditional boys clothes, but they had some very rare femme days, on those days she wore lots of eye make up, skirts and fish nets.

- She always raided her dad's closet after flannels, oversize shirts and shorts.

- She wore many sleeveless tanktops, button up shirts, bermudas (longer shorts). Loved wearing big belts and shirts that showed of her arms.

Personality:

- Marlene was just so warm, she was always making her friends laugh, they were extremely loyal, fun, dedicated and smart.

- Marlene loved reading but never really talked about it with other people, she didn't really study either but always got great results.

- Marls was very sceptical, didn't believe in god, in divination, in signs on anything. She only believed magic was real because she lived it every day.

- Marlene was that person that was just effortlessly good at everything, so that made her a little bit cocky but at the same time she was very insecure and anxious. Marlene was extremely competitive and hated losing, she always kept a straight face when she lost but would later cry herself to sleep, because he always took too much responsability and blamed herself for every failiure.

-She was very energetic and could not keep her mouth shut, she was always talking, singing, making jokes and jumping around. Marlene talked with her whole body, she talked moving her hands, her head, her arms and his face was very expressive.

- But that's not to say marls was perfect, oh no she was far from it. She had severe anger issues, she always kept calm to a certain point and then she completely freaked and became agressive andlashed out on whoever was closer, her words shoot to kill when she was mad, sometimes she even punched things around her until she calmed down. her anger was explosive, it was always in the back of her head itching to come out, and that made her feel like a monster, like a terrible person, like this evil was inside of her all the time and one day she feared she might not be able to contain it.

- Marlene struggled a lot with comphet and with that chronic need for male attention. Deep down she always they were a lesbian and would never love a boy

- She over sexualized herself, for some time when she was still young she tried hooking up with different random men at parties, forcing herself to feel something she knew wasn't there. Untill she finally kissed Lily and everything changed, that was the feeling she searched for her whole life. After that it was quite easy to accept herself. After years of crying themselves to sleep for being different, for being broken, for not being able to love a man and feeling like that would make her less worthy, because that would solidify that she was the family rotten dissappointment. She didn't want to be hated by her family, her mind was debating wether to be her true self or to be loved by her father. In the end she chose herself and she didn't regret it in the slightest.

- She embraced being butch, her masculinity and feminity both as a simultaneous intrinsicate part of her. They embraced the beauty that was loving and being loved by women.

- Marlene used a spell to hide her breasts in certain clothes bc sometimes she liked them, sometimes she hated it.

- Marlene loves the sea. It's his place, his safe heaven. her name having sea in it is the most fitting to her personality bc that is who she is.

- Marlene is the sea, she is strong and powerful, beautiful wild and dangerous, but she is also calm, relaxing and free, he is like water, everything in her is fluid, nothing is forever, she is always changing with the tide, she can be sunny and she can be a storm.

- She loved the outdoors, loved going camping, trekking, running, loved any and every activity in nature. Always promoted a match of beach volleyball.

- James called her marley

- Their love language (giving) is touch, she is ways touching people in some way, anytime she sat next to them she put a leg on their lap, holding her friends' hands, walking arm in arm, putting a hand on their shoulders. Receiving is words of affirmation.

- Marls is the best friend anyone can wish for, they are always there for her friends, always helping them, making things for them to get better when they're sick, trying to make them laugh when they're down.

- Marlene was so strong, both physicaly and mentally, sometimes it became a lot to handle, but she always shared it with James, they were both each others shoulders to cry on.

Random headcanons:

-Marlene was always flexing his biceps at her friends, all the time they were just 'bam!! look at those biceps how amazing'

- She borrowed James' clothes all the time, as he did hers, their wardrobe was shared.

- Her favorite bands were Blondie and The Runaways, she also loved Janis Joplin, Fleetwood Mac (Stevie Nicks was her goddess), Queen, Heart and ACDC.

- HUGE Star Wars fan, Princess Leia got her drooling dying on her knees

- The best curse breaker in the order, she and Caradoc worked together on it.

- She was named Harry's godmother along with Sirius.

[froggisarethebest]

Dorlene headcanons since no one else is doing them

Marlene is a Gryffindor and Dorcas is a Slytherin

Both have played in the Quiddich team since their second year

Marlene as beater and Dorcas as chaser

sorta had a slow rivalry in there for a while

Marlene is taller and always gives Dorcas shit about

and of course Dorcas does NOT like when Marlene leans over hear or when she has to lean down to kiss her or when she lifts her up…

Dorcas is NOT a fan . of course

they switch clothes sometimes

Dorcas with Marlene’s denim jacket and Marlene using her girlfriend’s sweaters

and they have matching tattoos

and Dorcas serenades Marlene with the somg Joelene and replaces the name Joelene with Marlene and Marlene pretends to hate it but she smiles and watches her girlfriend spin away (I got inspired by this from The Hand that Feeds by Rollercoasterwords on ao3 ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL)

they go on double dates with Remus and Sirius and of course it always ends with all drunk or high and singing karaoke

[madsireds]

𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬, 𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤

𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings: smoking, thoughts of family abuse, blood mentions, sirius angst, no smut but suggestions?

summary: you went out late at night to smoke at the astronomy tower when a mysterious guy joins you... ravenclaw fem!reader x gryffindor sirius black.

Y/N WAS AT THE ASTRONOMY TOWER, a cigarette between her lips. she was sitting on the edge, her legs hanging. just as she watched the smoke slowly fade away she heard footsteps.

she quickly turned around, thinking that it's filch, and she saw the one and only sirius black.

sirius black, a part of the four marauders - james potter, sirius black, remus lupin and peter pettigrew. he was tall and athletic. probably because he played quiddich until lasts year's "accident", a beater. no one knew what the accident was. but whatever it was, he stopped playing. he had black, shoulders length hair, grey piercing eyes and a defined jawline. he had that wolfish smirk on his lips and his hair was messy. he was probably sleeping till now. he was holding a cigarette as well.

he sat next to her, a few feet away. they smoked in silence for a while, looking at the night sky. there was something about the stars that always mesmerized y/n. sirius was the one to break the silence.

"so what are you doing here, l/n?" he asked.

he had to admit. he had definitely noticed y/n. she seemed like an outgoing girl, which is unusual for ravenclaws. she was friends with the girls so she was in the gryffindor common room pretty often. her best friend was marlene mckinnon. he often found himself staring at her. but he never approached her. he's a flirt. he shouldn't be nervous to talk to a girl like her. but he was. he hated this feeling but it also exited him.

"what does it look like I'm doing?" y/n asked with a playful smirk, lifting the hand that wa holding the cigarette. sirius chuckled and nodded, doing the same gesture.

"yeah, me too." he lied. he didn't come specifically for smoking. he needed to clear his head.

he had a nightmare, again. about his family. it was mostly the abuse he had gone through. memories.

he was laying on the floor in a pool of blood. his blood. he couldn't understand how his parents, his own mother, could do that to him. what did he do to make them so angry? sure, he didn't agree with his parents' beliefs and yes, he was a gryffindor, even though his whole family are slytherins and yes, he wasn't the perfect son. but was he that bad that he deserved that?

the cruciatus curse. the pain wasn't only physical, it was also emotional. the cold, emotionless look in his mother's blue eyes. the rage in his father's grey eyes. the same eyes like his own...

he shook his head slightly. he shouldn't think about those things. he've been living with the potters for almost a year already. they were his family. the ones who loved him. a real family. he took a drag from the cigarette in his hand before blowing out the smoke.

"you okay, black?" y/n's voice startled him. he glanced at her, she was already looking at him. she had beautiful eyes. they sparkled under the moonlight. he looked back at the sky, nodding slightly.

"yeah..." y/n didn't look convinced but she just nodded once and continued smoking in silence, dropping the subject. sirius was grateful for that.

y/n suddenly smirked. sirius saw it from his peripheral vision so he turned to her. she looked at the stars with a smirk and asked.

"so you like watching the stars or a particular star?" sirius was confused at first but when he followed her line of sight, he smirked. she was looking at sirius. the dog star. his smirk was full of smugness.

"well, I am the brightest star, after all. I can just look at the mirror if I wanted to." y/n laughed and moved her h/c hair out of her face. merlin, she was beautiful.

sirius descretly scooted closer to her. y/n noticed but didn't comment on it. she just continued taking drags from her cigarette.

"do you like the stars?" sirius asked, now only a few inches from her.

y/n smiled and looked at the stars. sirius stared at her, she looked angelic. so sweet and innocent but also had that dangerous look in her e/c eyes.

"yeah, I... i love the stars. they're so pretty." she answered dreamily. sirius nodded slightly, still looking at her.

"yeah, they are..." y/n glanced at him only to found him looking at her. she smiled softly but didn't look away.

sirius continued inching closer and closer. at this point he could kiss her any second. and merlin, did he want to...

y/n glanced at his lips for a split second and then back up at his grey eyes. he didn't notice, he was too busy staring at her lips. so perfect, so pink... fuck it. he closed the gap between them and one of his hands snaked around her waist, bringing her closer to him.

she reacted almost immediately, kissing him back. she locked her hands behind his neck loosely, her fingers playing with the ends of his dark hair. her e/c eyes fluttered closed.

he brought her as close to him as he could. he couldn't get enough of her. she was so sweet. her lips tasted of blueberries and smoke. her taste mixed with her lavender scent was intoxicating.

he brought her even closer, at this point she was practically on his lap. y/n's hands around his neck tightened slightly.

he broke the kiss to take a breath and looked at her. her eyes fluttered open and she looked at him with slightly parted lips.

he started tracing light but passionate kisses along her jaw and went to her neck. her eyes closed again and she tilted her head slightly to the side to give him more access to her neck. his hands were firm around her waist, keeping her in place while he kissed her.

but merlin, she didn't plan on leaving anytime soon.

𝐚/𝐧

hi! this is my first time writing one shot. hope you like it. I have a boom with the marauders one shots and a book with oc x sirius black on my wattpad (madsired). you can check if you want it.

[souryam]

ok, I'll answer this w my hcs + some common fandom hcs from snape twitter (where the gang was formed and is more popular) so like this is only fanon stuff!!

1) them becoming friends was slow process and it was basically a joining of pre existing friendships between 3 or 2 people that eventually formed a close bond between all 6 of them by 7th Year. Aurora, Mulciber and Avery where childhood friends, all of them coming from rich pureblood families (Aurora being from a branch of the Zabini family). Aurora and Charity became friends on their initial years of Hogwarts and started dragging her to hang out w the boys. Mulciber, Avery and Severus shared a dorm from Year 1, and in Year 4 Wilkes joined them after transferring from Durmstrang. Severus and Aurora studied together sometimes, so both of them spent time with Charity. Wilkes and Mulciber's relationship began with a rivalry but eventually they became friends bonding over quiddich (both of them were Beaters). So yeah basically they spent the longest time getting used to each other and only by 7th Year they were all truly friends without any drama or beef between anyone lmao

2) all of them disliked lily for different reasons (either jealousy, or perceiving her friendship w severus as her seeing him as a pet, or just bc the Ole blood purism). The only people who weren't outright hostile to her face were Wilkes and Aurora

3) They didn't, maybe only when they grew way up (like 2 years before charity died lmao). Aurora was very neutral in the war, she really couldn't care less about politics and general and would not risk her life fighting for anything (she thought they were stupid for putting themselves in danger not exactly because of their affiliation), ever since she was a child she was very used to making excuses for mulciber and avery bc she doesn't really care what they do, she loves them and that's what matters to her. Charity is widely hc as being a very rich and privileged girl who always got everything she wanted, and that led her to believe in the famous "not me tho" mentality. She was muggleborn, but the purebloods treated her nicely enough, so in her head it didn't matter. She only snapped out of this way of thinking after the war, when she got back to the wizarding world and started teaching muggle studies (around 1994 in lots of hcs) that she understood that being self centered was rlly not it and started to be publicly against blood purism (leading to her death)

4) Severus told Aurora and the others were dead by that point

5) Aurora, as I said, didn't care. she might yell at them in private because she mightve thought they were being childish but in public she was always by their side defending them and getting them out of detentions. Charity was a bit of a mean girl herself so she prob found it funny. (also, this might be silly of me but there isn't a canon reason as to what prompted mulciber and avery to do what they did to mary. Mulciber got into a lot of fights and was known by his temper around the school, but he only fought w people that genuinely pissed him off, not like james, who did it mostly as fun and stuff. Avery is just cruel. like that's how he is, he's mean, bitter, prejudiced, took ages for people in the gang other than mulciber and aurora to start tolerating him, and Severus and him only formed a friendship bc the war happened and they were the ones holding everything together)

5) that can varies depending on who you ask. in the books they don't have names, only being referred by their last names, so we can't really have sure they're the same people (the books canonicaly have 2 Mulcibers and 2 Averys, fathers and sons). Mostly Averys story is consistent, it's widely hc within the fandom that he survived the war, but got house arrest because of his blood curse+pleaded imperius, and died in 95 due to said curse. Mulciber there's two versions that ppl like and can be divided into 1) he becomes a DE or 2) he doesn't become a DE (both versions he's a blood purist just differing between his support of voldemort personally). 1) he becomes a DE, goes to Azkaban after the war ends and breaks out by 95 to show up in OOTP 2))(my fav) Never becomes a DE, lives a lowkey life during the war but still keeps in touch with Avery to check on him, Wilkes and Severus. Those letters r eventually intercepted and he gets arrested under suspicion of affiliation with DEs and thrown into Azkaban, and ends up dying in an attempted break out in 1980 after an auror kills him while he's trying to escape (in this case the guy in OOTP and mentioned throughout the books in association w DEs would be Mulciber Sr., who was friends w Tom Riddle in his Hogwarts years)

6) he was on house arrest, and for the same reason Lucius and a lot of other DEs didn't, he thought Voldemort had actually been defeated.

7) Avery would probably be very suspicious, but by the time Voldemort is resurrected he's too sick to care. Assuming Mulciber was alive, Severus would push him away a LOT, and he would definitely become suspicious of him too but wouldn't risk voicing his doubts knowing that it could cost Severus' life

sorry this got too long I just jump at any opportunity to babble about the gang these days lmao I'm a little coo coo bananas abt them

Snapes gang stans i need your help i wanna join in but idk the storyyyy

please help me out like how do we hc the group becoming friends??

what did the group all think about lily??

did charity and aurora regret befriending the slytherins when they became death eaters??

did the others find out about charity's death?? did severus tell them??

what did charity and aurora think about what mulciber and avery where doing to muggleborns like mary macdonald?? did the group ever fight about it??

did mulciber and avery survive the second war??

what did avery get up to during the 80s? he didn't go to azkaban because he pleaded the imperius curse. why didn't he go looking for voldemort??

what did avery and mulciber think about severus during the second war??

i have so many questions yall help me

alsooo i hc wilkes to be a women but still ship them with avery. when posting about this ship should i try to come up with my own ship name for them or use wilvery like everyone else?? ik it could be annoying if you're looking for wilvery content where they're both male but my posts keep popping up

[ive-got-you-clovered]

Puff puff here I come it’s time for some Harry Potter!!

[therealraewest]

Mod posted the hogwarts houses of the main tpoh cast and I have literally not stopped being excited about it

[rhetoricalravenclaw]

Ravenclaw headcanon

Ravenclaws make great quiddich beaters due to bottled feelings and pent-up aggression. The other houses are slightly terrified of playing Ravenclaw for this reason.

[boomcrunch]

bringing this back with an update bc simon did the pottermore quiz and got ravenclaw

hogwarts au babyyyyyy

(josh, simon, jj and tobi r 5th year, ethan and vik 4th and harry 3rd)

[panda-noosh]

something gained {george weasley x reader}

  words: 13.8k

  summary: you’re a beater on the slytherin quidditch team, so naturally, george weasley is your worst enemy.

   genre: fluff

   notes: masterlist - ask me about commissions! - enjoy my good pals. 

----

  the crowds are loud this morning.

   much too loud for a nine am rise, in your opinion, though you appreciate their enthusiasm. the bellows echo through the changing rooms, rattling the walls, poking at your nerves like a teenager prodding a zit.

    you sit on the floor, your back against the wall. around you, your team buzzes, making battle plans to defeat gryffindor, but you can barely hear them over the paired chorus of the chants outside and your own heartbeat. sweat rushes to your palms, and you gingerly wipe them on your quidditch gear.

    “we’ve got this one in the bag,” marcus flint says for what must be the seventeenth time since you first laid eyes on him this morning. “they’re not getting away this time. if we have to get violent, we will.”

   “and start the season off with a disqualification?” you pipe up. “wonderful game plan. very well thought out.”

    “it’s you who needs to listen up the most, l/n. you’re a beater - i want to see you causing damage.”

   you roll your eyes. “i cause damage every bloody game, flint. you don’t have to tell me how to do my job.”

    flint’s lips curl into a frown, his dark eyes glaring at you. you refuse to meet them, instead picking up your beaters bat from the side and getting to your feet.

    “the match starts in two minutes,” you point out. “are we gonna keep talking shit or are we gonna get out there and beat gryffindor?”

    much to flint’s dismay, it’s your tiny little speech that seems to get the slytherins riled up. they cheer, stampeding from the changing rooms, each giving you a warm clap on the shoulder on their way past. flint stays behind, glaring daggers into your head.

   you nod at the open door. “after you, captain.”

    and so, despite the hidden rivalry you and flint have with each other, you walk out onto the quiddich pitch together. the cold air immediately sets you off, a feeling of dread settling in the pits of your stomach; it’s always been easier to play in the warm weather, when the risk of rain is minuscule and you don’t have to worry about obtrusion's. now, however, the sky is overcast and threatening. frost coats the grass beneath your feet. you have to rub your hands together to bring feeling back into them.

    the gryffindors are already there, as you expected. oliver wood stands tall in the centre of the field, his team crowded around him. they all look so confident, a feat the slytherin team have yet to master; your people walk onto the field with heads held high and shoulders drawn back, but the tension between them is always so tremendously obvious that it takes away from the confident aura they’re always trying to convey. it’s not something you’ve ever tried to fix, because there’s only so much you can do.

   you and marcus wade to the centre of the field, giving each other a brief nod before taking your places, marcus right in front of oliver, and you stood by his left shoulder. 

    madame hooch addresses the two captains, ordering them to shake hands before the game begins. as soon as she blows her whistle, you kick off and soar into the air.

   the cold is immediately a disadvantage. it whips at your cheeks and claws at your throat until your eyes are watering, definitely not a good thing when you have to keep an eye out for a two ton flying ball coming right for you.

   you do what you’ve always done, though, and fight through it, blinking the tears away at any moment you are given. as the match progresses, however, those moments get few and far between, the tension rising between the two teams.

    you stop paying attention to the score board, because you have to. already your mind is racing, focusing on a million different things at once. you have to keep an eye on all the gryffindor players, make sure you know where they are so you can knock them from their brooms - and you do. with the skills of a world cup player, you pummel the gryffindor players into the ground one by one, repeating the process when they clamber back onto their brooms.

    “doing well, l/n!” flint cries, whizzing past you at lightening speed. you give him a thumbs up, distracted for only a second, but it’s a second too long.

   you know of the weasley brothers, the beaters on the gryffindor team. they’re good. they come from a family of decent quidditch players, and their childhood training shows through. you’ve played them a handful of times, and they’ve always been equal competition.

    they take your distraction as an opportunity.

    the bludger is whizzing towards you before you can even drop your hand back to your brooms handle. you hear it, the screech as it races in your direction. you cry, slamming your hands into the front of your broom in any attempt to do a downwards dodge, but the bludger catches the rear end of your broom and sends you spiralling towards the ground. 

    your feet slam into the mud and you stumble. pain spears through your ankles and legs, making you whimper, but the anger and determination chases the feelings away, increased only when lee jordan calls out, “gryffindor scores!” over the loudspeaker. 

    you growl, low in your throat, and remount your broom. you kick off with renewed vigour, heading straight for the weasley twins. they circle the pitch, darting to and fro with a synchronisation you and the other slytherin beater could never emulate. it makes you mad. it makes you so, so mad, because this is a competition, and how are you ever meant to win a competition if your team won’t even cooperate? 

    “oi! goyle!” you yell.

    goyle spins in midair, scowling the minute he meets your eyes. “what the hell do you want? we’re in the middle of a match!”

    “i want you to do your fucking job!” and just to demonstrate your point, you slam your bat into a bludger heading right for goyle’s distracted mug.

   he whirls back around, gets ready to scream at you, but you’re already whizzing towards the centre of the pitch. the crowd is louder than ever now, but you have to ignore them, you have to keep going, you have to do some damage, just like flint told you back in the changing rooms. 

   your arms ache. your ankles throb. your fingers are numb, wrapped around the handle of your broom, but you push past all of it. you become a monster, unrestrained as you chase after the bludgers, catching them with your bat, speeding them at gryffindor flyers with a ferocity you have never before showed in a match. 

     one of the bludgers smacks george weasley right in the face. you hear his nose crunch from halfway across the pitch.

    you punch the air. “take that, asshole! woo!”

    the game continues, brutal by the end of it. your nose bleeds when oliver wood catches you with his arm; you get a free hit for the penalty, though, so you’re not even mad. george weasley’s own nose is broken, dribbling blood throughout the remainder of the match. multiple players have nose-dived into the grass.

   but at the fifty minute mark, lee jordan has to grudgingly call out, “draco malfoy has the snitch, the little pest-”

    and that’s the game over. a win for slytherin - first win of the season.

    you zip to the floor to an immediate group hug. it’s uncomfortable, with none of the slytherin players really knowing how to handle affection, but your own excitement chases away the awkwardness. you bundle draco into your chest, one hand in his hair, the other shoved in the air in a pose of victory that the gryffindors scowl at.

   you meet the eyes of george weasley. he cups his nose in one hand, holding his broom in the other, and never before have you seen such malice in someone’s expression. it sends excitement coursing through you. you give him a grin, a sarcastic little wave. he scowls, turns on his heel, and follows his retreating team back to the changing rooms, where they can wallow in their loss for the rest of eternity for all you care.

    ---

    in all your years at hogwarts, never before have you seen the gryffindors and the slytherins more hostile towards each other than they are after the match.

    you tend to stay out of house confrontations. you don’t see the point in them; you’ll play a little dirty during a quidditch match, but you won’t be caught dead sneering at any other houses on your days off. it’s pointless. it’s a quick way to get into some not needed trouble.

    but things are being taken a little too far now, and you’re struggling to keep your nose out of it.

    everywhere you go, a gryffindor has something to say. a puny little first year will yell insults at you as you walk to class. a third year will throw something at you in the dining hall. fellow fifth years will make it their life’s work to make your days a collage of living hells, just because your team managed to beat theirs during a quidditch match.

    “it’s getting quite ridiculous now,” you say into the fire, the head of your father bobbing up and down within the flames. “the match was a week ago, and the gryffindors still haven’t got over it.”

    “so quidditch is still as competitive as it was back in my day then, eh?” your father says, before breaking into a fit of coughing that you have learned to ignore over the years; he hates it when you bring up his peaked appearance, or the way his eyes sometimes roll into the back of his head without warning.

    “i suppose so,” you mumble. “i don’t know what they want me to tell them; i’m just the beater, for christs sake.”

   “hey,” your dad scolds. “everyone in a quidditch team is important.”

   “yeah, but i’m not the one who handed their arse to them on a plate, am i?”

   “you helped with the process.” your dad smiles, tilting his head a little bit; he looks at you like this sometimes, like you’re holding the world in your hands. you suppose it comes with you being his only child, his last remaining family. he is yours, as well, though neither of you ever talk about it. 

   after your mother died, it was just the two of you. at ten years old, you were too young to do much in terms of helping, but then you aged and got your acceptance letter to hogwarts, and for a long time, you were fully prepared to ignore it, pretend you never received it and get on with the faux muggle life you had been trying to settle into these last few years. however, your father has always been a smart man, and even after he started getting sick, he was always telling you to go ahead and do it - go to hogwarts like you were supposed to, like you had always dreamed. 

   and now here you are, miserable.

    “i miss you,” you say when the silence gets too much. you can hear his heart monitor over the crackling flames, and it puts you on edge. “how are things at home?”

   “oh, the usual,” he replies. “days are boring without you, love, but i’m cheering you on. you’re making me so proud.”

   you smile. “i try, dad, i try.”

    “well-”

   before your father can finish his sentence, however, the door to the slytherin common room bursts open. a group of three stampede into the centre - draco, goyle, and crabbe.

   you frown. “do you lot not see i’m a bit busy?”

    draco spins. his hair stands on end, and black soot covers his face. his eyes are startled but wide with a fury you have seen far too often on the young boys face - it still makes you snicker.

    your dad sighs. “i suppose i should let you handle this.”

   “talk to you later, dad.”

   his face disappears up the chimney, leaving you alone with the three panting boys.

   you stand, wiping your hands on your robes. “what happened to you?”

   “those bloody weasleys!” draco exclaims. “oh, i’ll get them. i’ll get them back, i swear to it!”

   you raise a brow. “the weasleys? you’re gonna have to be more specific.” 

   “well, who else?” draco gestures to his soot-stained face. “them filthy twins think they’re soooo funny with their little jokes, but wait till my father hears about this! they’ll be out of this school before they can even blink!”    

   you raise a brow. “is this about the fucking quidditch match?”

    “yes,” draco snaps. you can see the tethers breaking away, his temper rising as he trails his fingers through his hair, breathes heavily through gritted teeth. “of course it’s about the bloody quidditch match. them gryffindors wouldn’t know fair play if it hit them in the face; they just can’t accept that the better team won.”

    you bite your lower lip. it’s been days of this exact same behaviour, these childish pranks just because the gryffindors are mad that the slytherins finally had a taste of victory.

   it makes you mad.

   you curl your fingers into your palm, gazing down at the three younger boys as they pace back and forth, treading ash in their wake. you’ve never been overly fond of crabbe and goyle, but you’ve always looked out for draco - call it an older sibling kind of thing, but you’re always the one sitting next to him when he has something to rant about, always the one rolling your eyes and putting him in his place, because you’re the only person in the world he will actually listen to.

   your protective instincts flare up before you have a chance to stuff them back down again. 

    “i think i need to have a chat with the weasley twins,” you say.

   draco’s head snaps around. “what?”

    but you’re already grabbing your cloak, dragging it over your pyjamas. 

    “y/n, what are you even going to say to them?” draco demands. when you don’t respond, he groans and grabs your arm. “if they do anything-”

    “they’re not gonna murder me, draco.” you shake him off, offering a warm smile. “i might murder them, though. we’ll have to see.”

    draco doesn’t argue. he watches you go, open mouthed and exhausted. you crawl out of the slytherin common room and into the hallways, thankful that curfew has yet to appear - you can march through these corridors with as much anger radiating off of you as possible, and filch can’t say a damn thing.

   that’s exactly what you do, because your fury only builds the longer you walk. it’s one thing for you to be harassed in the corridors by angry gryffindors; you’re a fifth year, and you’ve been through this many times. it’s a completely different thing to go after draco.

   and you understand, of course, that draco malfoy is hardly someone who needs to be protected, covered in bubble wrap for fear of shattering. he’s a little shit, and you’ll admit that as soon as the next guy.

   but he’s like a little brother to you in the sense that he was the only person in the world who knows about your fathers illness, and he hasn’t told a single soul.

    you round the corner, and that’s when you see him. it’s one of the rare occasions the weasley twins aren’t joined at the hip, because as far as you can tell, fred is nowhere in sight. george stands - alone - at the top of the stairs, waving goodnight to a group of gryffindor girls. there’s a slight red tinge to his cheeks, like he’s been running through wind, and you hate how adorable it looks.

   you push aside this thought, replacing it with the anger settled in your system. you march right up to him, grab his arm, and shove him up against the wall with the strength built from years of being quidditch beater.

    he stumbles, eyes widening a fraction before he realises what’s happening. his hand doesn’t even stray to his wand when he sees you, which just makes you mad; you want him to put up a fight. you want him to do something, anything that gives you an excuse to draw back and punch him in the nose. 

    “l/n,” he sneers instead. “what a pleasant surprise!”

    “you really are a piece of shit. you know that, right?”

    he laughs. it’s so jovial, so easy.

   you hate it.

    you shove his chest, willing his attention back to you. “i’m being serious! why can’t you and the rest of your slimy gryffindors just accept the fact that you lost? just because you’ve been lucky with potter on your team, doesn’t mean you’re exempt from losing.” you lean forward. “which, just to remind you, is what happened - you fucking lost, so suck it up and deal with it.”

    george blinks. that stupid grin is still on his face when he says, “christ, y/n, i haven’t even said hello yet!”

   you groan, stepping away from him to trail your hands through your hair.

   george points, squinting one eye in your direction. “draco does that all the time. is it a slytherin thing?”

    “what’s your obsession with draco?” you spit. 

   “he’s a tit. never leaves my brother alone, so he doesn’t.”

   “and is ron not capable of fighting his own battles?”

   george scoffs. “oh, he is, but being the amazing big brother that i am, i like to take the burden off him sometimes.”

   you scowl. george grins.

    “pathetic,” you grumble. “all of you. absolutely pathetic. when the next quidditch match comes around, you’ll be forgetting all about this one.”

   “ah, but the slytherin’s won’t, will they? you lot will be basking in your only victory in three years for as long as you can.”

    you growl, lunging for him. george laughs, placing his large hands on your shoulders to keep you at arms length, and you’re honestly not even sure what it is you plan on doing - scratching his eyes out? punching him in the face? some muggle fighting tactics you don’t understand?    

    “this is adorable,” george comments, casting a glance over his shoulder to where a painting of Sir Edmund Christo hangs behind him. “isn’t this adorable, Christo?”

    you groan, step away from him, shocked at how angry he can make you in such little time. his eyes glint in amusement as he stuffs his hands back into his robes and says, “finished?”

    “go to hell, george weasley,” you spit.

   his eyes pop open. “oh, look at that! you can tell me and fred apart!” 

    “leave draco alone,” you growl. “or next time i’ll put my hexes to good use.”

    ---

   the threat was idle. you weren’t actually going to hex george, or any of the gryffindors for that matter. you love draco dearly, but risking expulsion for him was not something you were willing to do.

    nonetheless, george seems to take your threat seriously, as he leaves draco - and the rest of the slytherin quidditch team - to their own devices. at one point, you even notice him telling ron to stop glaring over at your dinner table, and ron actually listened.

    “this might be the first time in hogwarts history the slytherin and gryffindors haven’t been at each others throats constantly,” says blaise, taking a seat next to you.

    draco scowls, still glaring over at the gryffindors despite your previous scoldings. “it’s weird. i don’t like it. they’ve got something planned.”

    “okay edge lord,” you grumble through a mouthful of yorkshire pudding. “this is literally why we can’t have nice things; you ruin it with your pessimism.”

   “coming from you, that means nothing.”

   you slap the back of his head. draco swats your hand away.

    “look, we don’t have to worry about the gryffindors any more,” you continue. “it was one quidditch match - they can’t hold a grudge forever.”

    “quidditch is a serious game,” blaise says through a snicker, because he’s never understood the fascination, no matter how many hours you and draco spend explaining it to him.

       “serious, but not enough to start a bloody house war.” you tap draco’s hand. “now stop staring and eat your roasties; you’re starting to look desperate.”

   draco scowls, but prods his fork into a roastie nonetheless.

    but now your attention is caught, no matter how much you want to forget all of it. the gryffindors aren’t worth your time and attention. they’ve done nothing but make your life a living hell these past few days - most of your hogwarts experience, actually - so why give them even the tiniest bit of your attention?

    you glance over to the gryffindor table. george is already looking at you.

   it’s reflex when you scowl. your eyes meet his, and you remember the night before when he was laughing, teasing you for your anger, and with those memories comes a surge of fresh anger, all pointed directly at him. you wonder if he feels the same, if he perhaps shielded his own frustration with humour; you don’t know an awful lot about the weasley twins, but from what you have gathered, that seems to be a common theme. they play pranks, and they tease people, and deep down, they are most likely dying inside.

    dying because they lost a fucking quidditch match.

    you look away when george sends you a grin. “idiot.”

   draco looks at you. “huh?”

    “nothing.” you stand, brushing your hands down your robes. your dinner was finished a long time ago; you were only staying seated to make sure draco didn’t throw himself into further conflict - not after you smoothed things out the night before. “i’m off to the library for a bit. you-” you poke draco in the cheek. “stay out of trouble, alright?”

    draco stares after you; he knows what off the library really means, and you appreciate that he isn’t blabbering the truth to the entire table. you give him one final smile before walking off, heading straight for the slytherin common room.

   it’s empty when you clamber inside. slytherin’s don’t spend an awful lot of time in the common room - that means socialising with one another, sharing pleasantries, and none of you are particularly fond of that kind of thing. you don’t mind, hating the faux pleasantries yourself, but it also gives you free rein to use the fireplace whenever you please.

  you sit on your knees and pull your wand out. it takes a bit of memory power before you can utter the spell your dad has illegally been trying to teach you since you left for your fifth year at hogwarts, but you eventually manage it. your body shrinks - at least, that’s what it feels like - and before long, heat is clawing at your face, and you’re staring into the family living room.

   what used to be the family living room. now, it’s empty besides your dad, curled up in the arm chair, watching the muggle news. he doesn’t notice you at first, giving you the time to analyse his form without him putting on a brave face. 

    he looks sick.

   very, very sick.

    you swallow thickly. his hair is thinner today than it was yesterday, if such a thing is even possible. his baby bird bones are tangled upon the arm chair, covered by an exceptionally thin blanket that makes you hope with every fibre of your being that he has the heating installed, running at full blast. his lips are chapped, and his eyes are bruised from lack of sleep, and just seconds before he turns to see your head bobbing in the fireplace, he coughs blood into a light blue handkerchief.

    his eyes widen when he spots you. he quickly shoves the handkerchief into his back pocket, stumbles from his arm chair and drops to his knees by the fire.

   “y/n!” he exclaims. “goodness, you could have made a little bit of noise. i didn’t even notice you!”

    “hi dad,” you reply quietly. “how are you?” 

    “very well.” he grins, grabbing the thin blanket you suddenly despise. “i’ve been crocheting, finished this a few nights ago. i was thinking of sending it to you, but the owl isn’t back yet, so you’ll have to wait a little longer.”

   you force a smile on your face. it must be a family trait, all these forced smiles. “that’s great, dad. you’re getting good at those.”

    “yes, well, i’ve got a lot of time on my hands now that i’m not running after you.” he scowls, but it lasts only a second before his expression breaks into a grin. “but enough about me; how are things with you? hogwarts treating you good? are those kids still giving you a hard time?”

   “dad, we spoke yesterday. how much do you think has changed?”

   he waves a dismissive hand, dropping his chin upon a shelf made by his interlocking fingers. “each day is a chance for new experiences, my dear.”

    “i nearly got in a fight with one of the beaters from the gryffindor team.”

   your dads eyes widen. “love, what have i said about using violence as a way to solve problems?”

    “i said nearly!” you exclaim, folding your arms across your chest, and even though he can’t see your arms, you know for a fact he is imagining you in this very stance, so familiar from your childhood. “he’s a real pain in the arse, dad, you don’t even understand. he winds me up something shocking.”

   “who is this boy anyway?”

   “one of the weasleys,” you grumble. “george.”

   your dads eyes pop open. for a brief moment, there is a flicker of life back in his body, startling you. “a weasley? goodness, y/n, i remember that family well! molly and arthur were in my year at school!”

    “yeah, well, george and fred are in my year at school, and they’re a set of bastards.”

    your dad chuckles, because that’s what he does when you get like this; he laughs, and he shakes his head, and he pretends you have the potential to be a Hufflepuff, just like he was back at hogwarts. 

    “i’ve never met them personally,” he says. “but i’ve never met a bad weasley in my life; some could be a bit overbearing, but they always had good intentions, and i think that’s what matters.”

    “i don’t think george has ever had a good intention in his life.” you slump forward, propping your chin on your palm. “all he cares about is quidditch and making people’s lives a living hell.”

    your dad frowns. “oh, love, i don’t think that’s true. i think you’re just angry at him. what did he actually do?”

    “he’s been tormenting draco since the quidditch match.”

   “is draco your little successor?”

   you scowl. “draco’s a little shit, and i’ll be the first to admit that, but george and fred are just taking the piss now. the match was a week ago. they need to get over themselves.”

    he hums in response, looking thoughtfully into the fire. “well, i hope you don’t mind me saying, love, but you’re quite competitive when it comes to quidditch, too.” 

    “not that competitive. i’m not a sore loser, that’s for sure.”

    “listen, i’ve never been an avid quidditch player, so i don’t know what it feels like getting sucked into that environment, but i’ve seen you get into some pretty deep dramatics over it. maybe george is just doing the same thing.” he shrugs. “nobody likes losing.”

   you scowl; sometimes you hate your dads ability to make sense, to explain every situation like it’s the worlds fucking philosophy. huffing, you cross your arms and lean your head upon them, staring at your dad with a disproved expression.

    he meets your gaze and laughs, raising his hands in faux surrender. “i’m just saying, love. i’m happy you’re sticking up for draco - god knows that boy needs a friend - but i don’t want to be receiving any owls from your teachers informing me about your expulsion because you’ve got in some fight with a boy in your year.”

     “i can’t make any promises on that, dad.”

    he rolls his eyes, no malice in the action. “whatever. just be a little wise, alright? you’ve got exams coming up, and i don’t want you flunking over something like this.”

    the mention of exams makes your stomach churn; through all the drama taking place these past few days, you had forgotten all about the end of term exams, approaching much quicker than you’re prepared for.

    dad smiles, as if reading your expression. “you’ll do great, love. i know you will.” he glances over his shoulder, spots the clock hung on the wall before turning back to you. “you should get going. it’s getting late.”

    you raise a brow. “will you be alright on your own?”

    “i’ve been on my own for a while now, sweetheart - i’ll be fine.” he smiles, blows you a kiss before swiping his arms through the fires flames, sending you back to the common room before you can even blink.

   ----

    christmas settles amongst the hogwarts students, and exams are dangerously close.

   quidditch must be set to the back burner, a fact that leaves you slightly depressed as you wade through what feels like a hundred hours of classes you have no interest in. revision piles up around you, leaving with you very little sleep and very little patience.

   call it a slytherin thing, but the desperate need to succeed has overtaken your entire being these past few weeks. you haven’t even spared george weasley - or any of the gryffindors - a glance, too absorbed in spell books to pay attention to their continued jeers. 

    george doesn’t go near you.

   you find it weird, of course, but that tiny voice in the back of your head scolds you any time you think too deep into it. you have to remain focused on exams, and exams only, because you have not left your dying father on his own for so long just to come home with no O.W.L’s. you have to succeed for his sake, to show him these difficult few years have not been for nothing.

   you’re in the library with draco on this particular day. outside the high windows, snow drifts pleasantly from the sky, and you can imagine the quidditch pitch in that moment, beautifully blanketed with little snowflakes that you will have no access to, because you’re stuck in the stuffy library with a slytherin fourth year who wouldn’t know the meaning of concentration if it struck him in the face.

    “why are you even here?” you snap, just as draco makes another comment about a passing gryffindor fourth year.

    draco raises a brow. he’s leaned back in his seat, so casual, textbooks open in front of him, though he pays them no attention. you don’t think he’s even glanced at one since he sat down. “what do you mean?”

   “i’m trying to revise.” you tap the front of your potions book to exaggerate your point. “in case you’ve forgotten, our exams start in a week. i don’t have time to sit here and scowl at gryffindors with you.”

    “i never invited you to scowl at gryffindors with me.” he throws a pencil across the room, just missing a distracted first year. “i can do that perfectly well on my own, thank you very much.”

   you slap his arm down, giving him your customary grimace. “wind your neck in, draco. how many times do i have to tell you you’re not special just because you’re a malfoy?”

    he opens his mouth to respond, but takes one look at your deadly scowl and goes quiet. he huffs through his nose, folding his arms over his chest as he leans over his textbook and gets to reading.

    you join him, tracing your wand over the words that are failing to embed themselves in your mind. why you ever decided to take potions - with snape as a teacher, no less - will forever be beyond you, and one of the greatest mistakes you have ever made in your hogwarts life. nothing he says makes any sense, and although you’re in his house, he still derives great pleasure in seeing you suffer at the hands of-

    “malfoy! are you studying?”

   your head snaps up. draco joins you.

   walking through the doors, and the most likely suspect of the jeer, is george weasley.

   your heart barrels into your stomach, a fresh surge of anger coursing through you at the mere sight of him. he’s done so well keeping himself to himself these past few weeks, and seeing him now - right back to square one - makes you want to punch him in the face all over again.

   because he strolls towards your table with that stupid little grin on his face, the evidence of a smirk taking place upon his face, and you hate that it suits him so well. you hate that you can’t even bring yourself to deny his attractiveness, no matter how hard you try.

    you slam your textbook closed. “let’s go, draco.”

   “what does he want?” draco stands and calls over to the approaching weasley twin. “where’s your dumb little sidekick, weasley? got lost in the halls?”

    “oh, would you-”

   your protest is cut short by george’s laugh. “actually no. he’s got a revision class with professor sprout, so i thought i’d come in here and check on my favourite beater.” he looks at you, smiles. “got a minute?”

   “no.” you scoop your textbook into your arm and stand, grabbing draco’s collar. “let’s go, draco. one more wrong move from you, and mcgonagall might not be so nice.”

    draco thrashes against your grip, grabbing the table to prevent you from dragging him right past the grinning weasley and into the hallway. “what do you want with y/n?”

    george raises a brow. “why would i tell you?”

   “because i’m their friend, and last time i checked, you’ve done nothing but torment them since that bloody quidditch match.”

    you groan. “again with the quidditch match? i thought we dropped that ages ago!”

    “apparently malfoy here holds grudges.” george turns to you again, ignoring malfoy’s disgruntled protestations. “i literally just want to have a chat; no funny business.”

    “no funny business?” draco screeches. “don’t listen to him, y/n. anything he wants to say to you, he can say in front of me.”

    a burst of affection blossoms in your chest. you push it down, turning to draco. “i can handle this, mate. you just go and find pansy or whatever it is you do. i’ll catch up.”

   draco narrows his eyes, going still in your grip. “you’re sure?”

   “when have i ever not been able to handle myself?”

   he pauses. “good point.” giving george one final warning glare, he straightens his robes rather theatrically and strolls from the library like nothing happened, like he hadn’t just made a massive scene on your behalf.

    with draco gone, you and george stare at each other. he’s got these pretty brown eyes, a little wide, a faux play on innocence. you see right through him, though. you recognise the glint of mischief he does nothing to hide, dancing behind those pretty brown eyes.

    finally, he says, “got yourself a little body guard, have you?”

   “draco’s protective.” you gesture towards his discarded chair. “take a seat, i guess.”

   grinning, george sits. you follow his lead, scooching your chair back a little bit; you have no idea what he has up his sleeve, and you’re not willing to find out.

    “what do you want?” you ask.

   “i know you and i didn’t exactly hit it off when we first spoke,” he begins.

    “that’s not my fault.”

   he pauses. “i think it was, but that’s not why i’m here.”

   you scowl, folding your arms over your chest. “you were the one being a dick to draco; you started it.”

    “i started it? you were the one pushing me up against a wall! and not even in a good way!”

    “because you were-”

   “being a dick to draco, yes, i heard you the first time.” george shakes his head, trails a hand through his hair. “now you’ve got me off track and i haven’t even been sat for two minutes.”

    “i don’t want to hear any apology - i know you don’t mean it.”

   george scoffs, glancing at you without entirely looking up, which is a look you never thought you would find attractive, but here you are. “i didn’t come here to apologise. in case you didn’t catch on, i don’t think i did anything wrong.”

    “no, you never do.”

    “but, i did come here to talk to you about something. just something i heard on the grapevine.” 

   you pause.

   george smiles, but it holds none of his usual playfulness. this smile actually looks genuine, maybe even a little soft.

    “so i was walking through the corridors - all on my lonesome - the other night, when i came across the slytherin common room.”

    you blink. you don’t know what else to do, having no idea what he even means. 

   he continues. “the door was left open, which i thought was a little weird; usually them things just close over by themselves, and you’ve got all the passwords and protection spells and stuff keeping peeping toms out, isn’t that right?”

    “what are you-”

    “does anyone else know your dad is sick?”

   you honestly would have preferred it if he had just drop kicked you then and there.

    you stare at him, waiting for a punchline that very clearly does not exist. you can scarcely believe your ears, let alone come up with a decent response to such an obtrusive, confusing question. confusing only because you have no idea how he could have ever found out, no idea how he just managed to peek his head into the slytherin common room when every enchantment claims it impossible.

    george stares back at you, his smile still present. it’s still soft, like he’s trying to test the waters, but you see no kindness in it now. 

   you push your chair back, very nearly stumbling over its legs in your haste to get as far from him as possible. that grin fades, his eyes narrowing as he tries reaching for your robes, but you pull away before he can get too close.

    “you nosy little shit,” you hiss, voice trembling. “you nosy, disrespectful little bastard!”

    “hey, hey, hey!” he stands, palms up in surrender. “i’m not teasing, i’m genuinely curious! you never talk about it, so-”

    “i never talk about it because it’s nobody else’s business. especially not some filthy little gryffindor who thinks he’s owed the god damn world!”

    george’s eyes widen. “that was so uncalled for. i was giving you someone to confide in!”

    you laugh, bitter and harsh. it makes george flinch. “and you think that person should be you? after everything? go to hell, george weasley.” you turn on your heel, not even bothering to gather your textbooks, or your quill - you’ll get them later. “and keep your massive nose out of things that don’t concern you!”

    and before george can say anything, you’re speeding out of the library, trying desperately to halt the tears threatening to pour down your face.

   ----    

    “i don’t understand how he found out. how could the door just stay open?”

    you keep your voice down, terrified of the other slytherins hearing what you have to say; the changing rooms are already packed, people fighting over garments and equipment, marcus already mouthing off about the lack of preparation the team had for this game due to exams.

    draco sits beside you, knees pulled to his chest. he stares out at the open space, kneading his bottom lip between his teeth in that thoughtful way he always does. his brows are furrowed, eyes narrowed.

   “it doesn’t make any sense,” he says at last. “the entrances to the common rooms have enchantments and all that stuff on them. sounds to me like he’s lying through his teeth.”

    “but then how else did he find out?”

   draco hollows out his cheeks and shakes his head. “beats me.” he turns to you then, slaps a hand against your knee. “but we can’t focus on that just yet. we have a match today.”

    you sigh, tilting your head back against the wall; your energy has long since been sucked out of you, a week straight of exams not leaving you in the best state, though the excitement of finally being back on the pitch drives you to stand and join the rest of the team.

    slytherin versus hufflepuff today; should be an easy enough win. 

    you mount your broom and get started as soon as the whistle is blown. 

   soaring through the air, your adrenaline kicks back in. for the time being, you are able to ignore the anxiety throbbing in the back of your head, focusing only on the task you have been given. a few hufflepuff’s are wiped out in as little as ten minutes into the match; the slytherin’s in the crowd are howling their excitement, jumping up and down with fists in the air. 

   you look down, meaning to wave at blaise as he jumps up and down in the stands, but it is not blaise your eyes immediately land on. 

   you spot the shock of red hair almost immediately, sitting in the stands with his eyes trained on you. you’ve seen him at these matches so many times - and why wouldn’t he be? a player on the qryffindor team, an avid quidditch player. why shouldn’t he be watching you play right now?

    despite this, his presence distracts you. 

   “y/n!” draco shrieks, before a bludger whizzes past you. goyle, the god send, just manages to knock it away before it slams into your ribs.

   you spin, gasping. goyle sends you a dark look as draco calls out, “you okay?” you give him a shaky thumbs up, take one final look at george in the stands before whizzing across the pitch, determined not to let your attention slip again.

    but he’s there. he’s there, and there’s no way you can ignore him after yesterday. that smile of his, those big brown eyes, his confusion when you lost your mind and started yelling at him. it just felt like the right thing to do, and even now - after having a bit of time to think about it - you’re still angry. what draco said was right - george was probably lying through his teeth when he-

    “y/n!”

    goyle isn’t on the ball this time.

    you spin just in time to get a bludger straight to the chest.

   it knocks the air out of you, sends your broom spiralling to the floor. your fingers - surprisingly numb - slip from the handle, and you crash into the grass, flat on your back. 

    “mother of god,” you groan, rolling onto your side as madame hooch blows the whistle for a time out.

    draco is first by your side, slipping to his knees. “are you daft?”

   “no, i’m winded.”

    “bloody hell.” he grabs your arm, rolling you onto your back. you stare at the sky, disoriented. “can you keep playing?”

   “yes.”

   “are you just saying that?”

    “probably.” with one hand curled round your middle, you push yourself up. draco helps you to your feet, hands you your broom, and before madame hooch - or madame pomfrey for that matter, who is yelling at you from the sidelines to go over for a check up - you mount your broom and kick off again.

    your entire body screams in protest the entire time, ribs burning, chest tight. it takes everything in your power not to slip into unconsciousness. black dots sneak into the edges of your vision, but you push them away and keep playing.

   you keep playing, but not necessarily well.

    you make a hit for a bludger with your bat, only for marcus to curse you out for nearly taking a swing at his head, instead. your broom spirals in all different directions, you suddenly unable to keep it under any resemblance of control. your hands tremble against the handle, eyes slipping, slipping, slipping-

    the whistle blows again. you open your eyes. you’re on the ground again.

    “someone get them to the infirmary!” madame hooch screeches. “the match will commense with the sub - where’s crabbe? crabbe!”

    “no,” you grumble. “no, i can play. i’m fine.”

   “you’ve just passed out, you idiot.”

   george’s voice startles you back to reality. your eyes snap up, meeting his just as he puts an arm beneath you and hauls you off the floor. 

    and you could protest. you want to protest, because george weasley - of all people - should not be the one carrying you to safety, but your chest aches, and all your muscles are on fire, so you don’t even move. you just flop against him, trying desperately to keep consciousness as long as possible.

   it doesn’t work out that way, though. the black dots take over your vision before you’ve even reached the infirmary, the last thing you see being george’s furrowed brows and worried scowl.

   ----

   you wake up to darkness.

    curtains drawn, a quilt tucked beneath your chin, body comfortable against a soft mattress, you’re half tempted to just roll over and go back to sleep.

   that thought is squashed when you look to your side and spot george sat by your bedside.

   he’s fast asleep, head drooped, arms folded across his chest. he looks peaceful, though his hair is mussed, like he’s trailed his fingers through it numerous times.

   you push yourself onto your elbows and glance around; you’re in the infirmary, your body feeling good as new with whatever spell madame pomfrey put on you. clearly she thought you needed the rest, as it is now pitch black outside, and the curtains around your bed have been drawn to separate you from the other patients.

    you grab your wand from the bedside table and whisper “lumos.”

    george jerks awake.

    his chair screeches against the floor, making you wince with the volume. it sounds particularly loud when you’re in a room with people fast asleep, and apparently george thinks the same way. he squints into the darkness, before his eyes pop open at the sight of you.

    “you’re awake!”

   “what are you doing here?”

    in all honesty, you don’t mean to sound so harsh. it just kind of happens, a reflex when it comes to george weasley.

   he frowns. “i came to make sure you didn’t choke on your tongue in your sleep. i know how you slytherins can get.”

    “what happened?”

   he settles back in his chair, regarding you with a tired expression, though his raised eyebrow and wild hair make him look oddly attractive beneath the pale wand light cast upon his face. “you don’t remember?”

   “i remember. . . bits and pieces.” you wince. “we lost the match, didn’t we?”

    george smiles. “it was bound to happen. hufflepuff still had a full team by the end of it, and i think diggory was using slytherin’s weakness to his advantage.”

   “but we had crabbe as a sub!” 

    “crabbe is god awful. goyle’s on thin ice. you’re the only beater on that team keeping things going.”

    you scowl, slumping back against your pillows. it’s not like you had desperately high hopes for slytherin to win, but the fact that it was you who forced the loss upon them makes you angry - and a little bit embarrassed. 

   you flick a glance at george. “is flint mad?”

    george scoffs. “who gives a shit what flint thinks?”

   “i do. he’s the teams captain.” you close your eyes, throw your head back. “he’s gonna give me such a bollocking when he next sees me.”   

    “you were a little distracted up there.” george leans forward. “what happened?”

    and then you remember.

   that moment, just before the first bludger was barrelling towards you. you’d spotted george in the crowd, that shock of red hair, and his eyes had met yours, and you just zoned out. it was uncontrollable; once it started, you couldn’t drag your mind away from it - the fact he was there, the fact he was looking right at you, the fact you kind of wanted to talk to him.    

    “it was nothing,” you grumble, awkwardly picking at the quilt covering your legs. “i just felt a little ill, that’s all; not really the day for a match, was it?”

    george scoffs. “i’ve seen you play brilliant games of quiddich in blizzards, y/n. don’t sit there and tell me a little wind put you off your game this time around, because i know it’s a lie.”

   you scowl, but make no attempt to correct him. there isn’t really any point when he’s looking at you with that grin on his face, an eyebrow raised, a silent dare for you to go against him right now.

   you look back down at the quilt. “i could have carried on playing, you know. i was fine.” 

   “you fell unconscious when i was carrying you to the hospital wing.”

    “that doesn’t mean anything. my body gave up because the adrenaline stopped, but if i’d have just carried on playing-”

   “you probably would have broken a few more ribs.” george taps your nose. “and we can’t be having that.”

   you swat his hand away, scowling. “i still hate you, you know.”

   his smile drops, and for the first time since you woke up, he actually looks upset. he stares at you, those doe-like, mischievous brown eyes forcing you to look away, because you can’t stand them for very long without getting all giddy. it annoys the hell out of you.

    slowly, he leans back, fingers clasped in front of him. “is it because of what i said about your dad?”

   you close your eyes. “i was hoping you wouldn’t bring that up.”

   “but that’s it, isn’t it?” he pushes. “you think i was out of line for asking you about it. you think i was teasing you, or something.”

    “it’s not exactly far-fetched though, is it? you’ve dedicated your entire life to taking the piss out of people from slytherin, so why should i think i was any different?” 

    “because you are different.” george grits his teeth, like the words have caused him physical pain to admit. “i wasn’t - christ, y/n, i wasn’t making fun of the fact your dad is ill. i’m not that bloody cruel.”

    “with the way you treat draco? had me fooled.”

   george’s nostrils flare, lower lip disappearing behind his teeth. “are you and draco a freaking couple or something?”

   “no.”

   “then why do you feel the need to stick up for him every two seconds?”

   “because he’s my friend, george, that’s why!”

    george rolls his eyes, like the mere idea of draco malfoy having friends is unbelievable to him. 

   “what?” you push, leaning forward to meet his eyes. “why is it so difficult for you to wrap your head around the fact i’m friends with malfoy?”

    “because you’re so much better than him.”

    he says it like it hurts, teeth gritted, eyes refusing to meet your own. he says it like the walls are crumbling and this is his last chance to admit the truth. he says it like he hopes you don’t hear him.

    you stare, unable to comprehend his words, because they don’t really make any sense to you. “no i’m not.”

    george stiffens.

   you barrel on, suddenly passionate. “no, i’m really bloody not. i got sorted into slytherin for a reason, george, just like you and all the other weasleys got sorted into gryffindor. draco and i, we think alike. we deal with problems the same way.”

    “that’s bullshit,” george scoffs, finally looking up. “you keep malfoy in check, because you know the difference between right and wrong.”

    “i keep malfoy in check because i’m not an idiot. just because i stop him from doing daft things, doesn’t mean i don’t agree with his intentions.”

   george swallows. you watch his throat bob, the emotion slipping into his stomach, forcing that mask upon his face that you saw disappear for only the briefest of moments during this confusing conversation.

   finally, after a moment, george claps his hands to his knees and stands up, not unlike how your dad rises from his arm chair on his particularly bad days. all huffs and puffs, grunts of discomfort, bones creaking from lack of movement.

    “alright then,” he says simply. “i’ll leave you to it then, shall i? you can get back to - i don’t know - plotting doomsday or something.”

    you growl. “grow up.”

   he gives you a wave, sarcastic, over-the-top just to make you mad. you don’t humour him with a response, instead just watching him leave with your arms folded over your chest, anger seeping into every inch of your freshly-healed body.

    it’s crazy how he can do that to you so easily, how he can wriggle his way into your brain, convince you he has good intentions, only to leave you feeling angrier than when he first walked in.

   ---

   you get out of the infirmary that day, having fully healed thanks to madame pomfrey’s magic. you thank her, offering to send some flowers up to her room as soon as possible. she smiles and says, “just like your father.”

    you manage to avoid flint for most of the day. him being the year above you, it’s easy to miss him in the hallways, and you certainly have no classes together. however, you were a fool to think he wouldn’t be tracking you down any time he possibly could, because as soon as you sit down at the slytherin table that evening, he is right beside you in seconds.

    you glare at your mashed potatoes, speaking through gritted teeth. “don’t wanna hear it, marcus. really, really don’t wanna hear it.”

    “and we didn’t want to lose the match, but here we are.” he shoves your tray away; your food lands on the floor. none of the other slytherins look up. “you gonna explain to me what happened?”

    “why do i need to explain anything to you?” you shoot back, before gesturing to your upturned dinner. “get up there right now and get me a new plate, or so help me god-”

   “you’ll what? sabotage another match?” 

   your eyes widen. “sabotage? i didn’t take a bludger to the chest on purpose!”

    “explain your little performance with weasley then, huh?” flint leans forward, so close you can smell the peppermint on his breath. “has he finally got in your brain, yeah? managed to turn you against us. i don’t forget that your dad was a hufflepuff. and what was your mother?”

   you scowl. “keep my parents out of this.”

   “oh yes!” he exclaims. “a gryffindor! funny how that works, isn’t it? i can imagine you have a soft spot for the enemy, growing up with one and all that.”

    fury erupts in your chest. you stand, nostrils flaring, fingers curled into fists at your sides; so easily you could draw back and punch him, flatten him on the ground of the great hall in front of everyone. so easily you could make him pay for throwing your parents into this.

    but you don’t. you’re tired. you remember your dads voice, his silent plea for you to just take things easily this year. he isn’t well enough to handle any more trouble you may bring to his doorstep.

   and so, it’s with hesitance that you step away from the slytherin table. you lean down, lower your voice to an almost deadly whisper when you say, “i’d sleep with one eye open, you little shit.”

    you turn on your heel and start towards the door, starving but you don’t care. you have to get out of there before you lose your temper even further, before you banish the sound of your dads voice and make a mistake.

   ----

    draco finds you a few hours later, because of course he does.

    he probably heard all about your little altercation, and you have no doubt in your mind that it’s made him mad. you’re protective of him, but it works both ways, and draco has proved that on multiple occassions.

    the door to the common room bursts open, revealing a brief glimpse of the lunchtime crowd finally emerging from the great hall. you look up from your textbook, squinting at the sudden onslaught of light. draco stands in the doorway, nostrils flaring, eyes firm on you.

    your lips twitch, an attempt at a smile. “hello.”

   “what did he say to you?” draco demands. “if he said anything about your dad, y/n, i swear to-”

    “calm down,” you grumble, slumping into the arm chair. “you know how flint gets; he doesn’t know when to hold his tongue.”

   “yeah, well, he’s going to fucking learn, isn’t he?”

    you look up, because he must be joking. draco might be intimidating to some, but it all comes down to a name at the end of the day; he couldn’t hurt a fly even if he tried. he certainly couldn’t go up against marcus flint.

    but the rage in his eyes leaves little to the imagination about what he wants to do. he turns on his heel before you can even stand up, fleeing the common room in search of marcus flint.

   “draco!” you stumble up, dashing after him. “draco, stop. what the hell are you even going to do?”

   “have a little chat with him.” he picks up his pace, as if afraid you’re going to stop him. you have to start jogging, pushing past fellow confused students in your haste to grab draco before he does something stupid.

    but the world is plotting against you, it seems, as draco rounds the corner and comes face-to-face with the slytherin quidditch team captain as he makes his way to his next class.

    both boys freeze, and for a moment, you think draco’s respect for the older man might just break through. for a fleeting, hopeful moment, you think draco will come to his senses and turn away before any real damage can be done.

    and then he punches flint right in the face.

   you cry out, stumbling over your own two feet in your haste to get to draco before flint - stunned and confused - can come back around. even draco seems shocked at his own actions, staring at his fingers with wide eyes, face paling.

    “idiot!” you hiss, grabbing his arm and dragging him back, but marcus is already regaining his composure, looking at draco with nostrils flared.

   you raise a hand in marcus’s direction, trying in vain to drag draco behind you. “alright lads, lets calm down, yeah? we’ve got classes to get to!”

    “get out of the way, y/n,” marcus growls.

    “don’t talk to them like that,” draco snaps, lunging forward. you try in vain to keep the smaller boy from doing any further damage, but he’s determined, and you know how draco gets when he’s determined. he fights against your grip like a snarling dog, spitting curse words in flint’s direction, half of which you don’t even pick up on.

   you’re too busy staring at marcus, silently daring him to do anything.

   because, the thing is, marcus knows you just as he knows every person on his quidditch team. you’re the beater that keeps the team upright, the only one of the three beaters he can actually trust to win them a match. you’re the one he’s studied for years as you play the game by his side, and he knows you won’t take any shit.

    but either will he. that’s the beauty of being a slytherin. you know that as well as anyone.

   and that is why you can do nothing when marcus dives forward, malfoy having just called him some awful name, and grabs the younger boy by the front of his robes. he shoves you out of the way, your shoulder crashing into a passing first year. you hastily apologise, stumbling upright, trying to get between them as draco yells and makes a fuss, and marcus keeps so calm and collected, it’s almost scary, a scene you don’t know how to handle-

    marcus is pushed backwards.

    he falls on his back. you hear his wand snap in his back pocket, quills and parchment flying left, right and centre. draco stumbles, gasping for air, pressing a hand to his throat; his eyes snap to you, but you pay him no attention as you stare at george weasley, now standing guard over the younger malfoy boy.

    he glares down at flint, fingers curled into fists at his sides. the crowd stand shocked, some of them whispering “is that fred or george?” but you pay them no attention. your heart is racing. you’re so confused.

    marcus blinks. “what the fuck?”

   “why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” george snarls. 

    “i can handle myself, weasley!” draco barks, and that snaps you out of your reverie.

    you march forward and grab draco by the ear. he cries out, but you don’t pay attention to his pleas as you drag him through the hall, yelling out, “nothing to see here people!” over your shoulder. draco kicks and whines, but you’re furious - furious that he would put himself in such danger, furious that he couldn’t even finish the job he started, because george weasley - of all people! - stepped in to save his ass.

     you push draco into the nearest empty classroom you can find. “you idiot.”

    “he deserved it!” draco exclaims, rubbing the reddened tip of his ear. “jesus christ, y/n, let me help you! why do you let people like him get away with stuff like that?”

    “i don’t!” you bark. “i don’t let them get away with it, draco, because i handle it on my own! you don’t need to protect me!”

   draco scowls, folding his arms over his chest.

   you sigh, running a hand down your face. “you’re like a little brother to me, do you understand? if you get hurt one of these days, i’ll never forgive myself. it’s better if you just let me deal with things like this.”

    “why do you get to protect me all the time but i can’t protect you?”

   “because i can protect myself.”

    “or george weasley will do it.”

    you purse your lips, glancing over your shoulder as if george himself will be stood in the doorway; part of you kind of wishes he was. 

    “i don’t know why he did that,” you mumble. “he hates your guts.”

   draco scoffs. “yes, i’m aware of that. but i think it’s pretty obvious why he decided to step in.”

   you raise a brow, a silent question. 

    “that boy hasn’t stopped gawking at you since the first quidditch match,” draco explains. “don’t pretend you haven’t noticed. and also don’t pretend like he wasn’t the reason you got so distracted during the match against hufflepuff.”

    you blink, heat clawing to your face. of course it’s true - you never denied that to yourself - but hearing draco say it out loud, like it means something, makes your stomach curl. 

    draco chuckles, still rubbing his ear. “i must say, y/n, i’m surprised by your pick, but whatever makes you happy.”

    “george is...” you falter, the acidic adjective balancing on the tip of your tongue, just enough of a lie to leave you hesitant. “george is a. . . interesting character.”

    “all the weasleys are,” draco agrees. “but not all the weasleys have caught your eye, have they?”

   “shut up.” you fold your arms, biting your lower lip. “i don’t feel anything for george. nothing nice, anyway. he annoys me.”

    “he annoys you, does he?”

    “you know he does!”

    “i also know you’re getting very flustered right now.”

   you scowl, quickly turning away before draco can gather any more evidence of your true feelings through your appearance. “go to hell.”

    “tell me i’m wrong. tell me he wasn’t the person who distracted you during that match.”

    you open your mouth, ready to lie. you’re a slytherin. lying comes easily when it works in your favour, but you glance over your shoulder, and you spot draco’s raised brow and amused smile, and you remember that he is a slytherin himself, a slytherin who knows you better than anyone else in this damned school. he can read you like an open book, a skill he is clearly using to his advantage now.

   you grit your teeth, turning back around. “it was an accident. i just wasn’t expecting him to be there.”

    “the weasley twins never miss a game!” draco exclaims, a burst of laughter mingling with the words, like he can’t believe you’re even attempting to lie. “honestly, y/n, who do you think you’re trying to fool? the entire school saw how george reacted to you falling-”

   “how he reacted?”

    draco’s smile fades. “oh, of course.” he shakes his head. “of course, you wouldn't have seen him, probably wouldn’t have heard him, either.”

    you raise a brow, heat crawling up your face again. “what are you on about?”

    “y/n, when you fell off your broom that day, george bolted. he nearly gave colin creevey a bloody concussion, shoving his way through the stands. professor mcgonagall tried to stop him from getting on the pitch, but he wasn’t having any of it. even mcgonagall backed down when she saw his face.”

   oh.

   oh, oh, oh, that wasn’t what you were expecting to hear. not at all.

   the blood thrums through your veins, louder than it has ever been. you can’t respond, can’t even think straight, trying to remember that day and what happened during the moments before you fell head first onto the pitch.#

   but you remember nothing. you opened your eyes, and you were on the floor, and george was stood over you, calm as anything. not once did you think he may have actually went against the rules to get to you.

    “that doesn’t make any sense,” you mumble.

   draco raises a brow. “why doesn’t it?”

    “because george and i hate each other.” 

    and draco laughs. he laughs, head thrown back, loud and obnoxious. you stare at him, but you’re not even angry. you’re still in shock, overcome with a sudden need to find george and ask him about whatever draco has just tried telling you.

    because it can’t be true. george and you don’t get along. he’s the guy who hates draco, the guy who knows about your dad, the guy who does your head in more than anyone else in the world.

    he’s also the guy who carried you to the hospital wing when you were on the brink of unconsciousness.

   he’s also the guy who knows about your dad, yet hasn’t told a single soul.

    he’s also the guy who just saved draco’s ass, and maybe you’re thinking too much into it, but did he only do that because you made it so clear that draco is your friend?

    you swallow thickly, trailing your hands through your hair. “oh, draco.”

   “oh, indeed,” draco replies, still grinning. “here i was thinking you were smart.”

    “i have to talk to him.”

    “yes, well, go ahead.” draco places a hand on his forehead. “i’ll stay in here until flint calms down; i’ll be fine on my own.”

     usually, you would ask him if he’s sure. you might not even leave, instead choosing to sit with draco, sharing sweets, insulting each other’s life choices.

    but right now, you don’t stick around long enough for him to change his mind. you whirl on your heel, pure adrenaline thumping through your veins as you throw open the door and dart out into the hallway.

     george is in class. he has to be in class, because that’s where you’re supposed to be right now.

    you dash down the hallway, no longer caring about the teachers walking back and forth, all of whom are probably wondering what on earth you’re doing out of class right now. you pay them no attention, instead making a direct line for potions, where you know george is currently seated, probably bored out of his mind.

    you halt at the window of the potions classroom and peek over the top of the sill. there he is, seated at the back, chin resting on his palm as he stares at nothing in particular. at the front, snape paces back and forth, slapping a wooden ruler against the blackboard, a noise you are all too familiar with. 

    you grit your teeth, wave your hands back and forth, anything to get his attention. finally, however, it’s fred who sees you, and his eyes - identical to his brothers - immediately widen, a grin appearing on his face.

    you point to george, and fred gets the memo. he nods, gives you a thumbs up before tapping george on the shoulder and pointing in your direction. you make a come here gesture, to which george raises a brow, motioning to snape at the front of the classroom. impatiently, you tap your wrist, signalling to him that this is the one chance you’re going to get to talk to him, and you need to do it now.

    george rolls his eyes before throwing his hand in the air. 

    snape pauses his lecture. “yes, weasley?”

   “can i use the bathroom, sir?”

    “you can wait.”

    “no, sir, you don’t understand. i had one of hagrid’s fish suppers earlier, and-”

   snape slaps his ruler against the desk. “i don’t want to hear it! off you go, but be quick about it. any catching up you have to do can be done in my classroom during lunch.”

    “you’re the best, professor!” george stands and all-but runs to the door.

   as soon as he’s thrown it open, you grab the front of his robes and drag him down the hall, to a place where neither of you will be heard by the potions master.

    george stumbles after you, laughing louder than you’re comfortable with when the two of you are skipping class. you shove him into yet another empty classroom, closing the door and casting a quick spell to lock it.

    you spin, and as soon as you lay eyes on him, the speech you had planned dies in your throat.

    you just stare at him, because that honestly feels like all you can do. you’re struck by how gorgeous he is, those brown eyes you have never ignored, the messy mop of ginger hair, the chiselled cheeks and lanky body. all of it combined makes george weasley him, and it’s enchanted you quicker and more unexpectedly than you’ll ever be willing to admit.

    george raises a brow, folding his arms over his chest. “is this important, or am i risking a detention with snape for no reason?”     

   you blink, suddenly aware that you did not plan this out as well as you probably should have. what do you even want to say to him? what point do you want to get across?

   george tilts his head at your silence, leaning forward teasingly. he’s still got that smirk on his face, the one you refuse to acknowledge, because he’s only doing it to annoy you, and he looks so good whilst doing it. 

   you scowl in response. “you know flint is going to kill you next time he sees you, right?”

    surprised, george recoils. “that’s what you wanted to say to me?”

    “i’m giving you a warning. i know marcus flint really well, and he’s not going to let this slide. you should probably start thinking about leaving hogwarts next year, just to give you a better chance-”

    “y/n, for christ’s sake.”

    you deflate. your shoulders slump, the energy seeping from your body in one clean swoop. you groan, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes, as if doing so will push the stress and confusion from your brain.

    “i don’t know how to do this,” you grumble. 

    “don’t know how to do what?”

   “say thank you.” you drop your hands; george has stepped a little closer. you inhale sharply, ready to recoil, but those brown eyes of his keep you trapped.  

   he raises a brow. “you want to say thank you?”

    “i know you don’t like draco,” you mumble. “you didn’t have to stand up for him back there, but you did anyway. god only knows what would have happened to him if you hadn’t stepped in.”

    “he needs to learn to keep his mouth shut.” george shrugs. “but he’s still the year below us. flint should have handled things better.” 

     you nod, pursing your lips. it’s the gyryffindor mindset, a mindset you will never properly understand, but a mindset you grew up witnessing, because your mother always had the same one. whilst you were usually all for getting revenge, your mother always calmed you down by telling you that, sometimes, it was better to take the high road. sometimes, you needed to protect people weaker than yourself.

    “plus,” george is quick to add. “he pushed you. that was a step too far for me.”

    startled, you look up. “that was a step too far? you don’t even like me, george!”

    george’s smile slips. his brows furrow, pinching in the centre in a most adorable way. outside, students bustle back and forth, class ending; you’ll have to deal with snape, and so will george, but right now, neither of you really care. george just stares at you, and then he starts shaking his head, and then he’s laughing.

    you recoil. “what’s so funny?”

   “you really are daft,” he says. “absolutely daft in the brain.”

    “what are you talking about?”

    but he only continues to laugh, throwing his head back. he turns on his heel, hand inches from the door handle, ready to leave this conversation at that, but your eagerness to know more drives you to stop him. you grab his robes and pull him back, stumbling just enough to push him against the wall, your chest inches from his own.

    his laugh dies, breath catching in his throat as he stares down his nose at you. “not this again.”

    “what are you talking about, george?”

    he smiles. slowly, he lifts his hand and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, fingertips grazing your heated cheeks. you’re startled by the touch, half ready to pull away from him, but you stay frozen, trapped in his gaze.

    “i don’t hate you, you know,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “in fact, i think i’ve actually grown quite fond of you these past few weeks.”

   it doesn’t make sense. none of it makes sense. in your head, you replay the relationship formed between you and george, the constant bickering, the harsh words, the dire need to be as far from each other as possible - a need that was never met, because somehow, you always found yourself drawn to him, even when you convinced yourself he was the last person you wanted to see.

    you swallow thickly, trailing your hands down his robes, flattening the creases you made in the material. he watches your fingers as they graze over the collared shirt he is wearing, lingering just by his stomach before you flinch away and step back, chewing your bottom lip.

    george grins again. he’s always grinning. you don’t want him to ever stop grinning. “you alright there?”

    you nod. “fine. why wouldn’t i be fine?”

    “i don’t know, but you look a little shell shocked.”

   you scowl.

    his grin widens. “there’s that look i’m so familiar with!”

   you roll your eyes. “go to hell, george weasley.”

    ----

     last quidditch match of the season.

   slytherin versus gryffindor.

   marcus is all but foaming at the mouth.

   you and george are making faces at each other from opposite ends of the pitch.

   draco nudges your arm as madame hooch goes through the rules. you glance at him, raising a brow in silent question.

    “stay focused, please,” he whispers, nodding at george who is busy giving goyle the middle finger. “i get you two are friends now, but this match is important to us. get your head in the game.”

    you scoff. “when have i ever not had my head in the game?” 

    draco raises a brow.

    you scowl. “that was one time, alright? i’ve got it this time. them gryffindors aren’t gonna know what’s hit them.”

    and so, the game begins. 

    it’s a dirty game. blood makes an appearance a few times. one of your hands get crushed by a bludger that goyle failed to block, so your knuckles are bloody throughout the entire match.

   and then there’s george.

    he circles you, singing ‘happy birthday’ at the top of his lungs. he smacks a bludger in your direction, but you dodge it and smash it back at him; it hits off the end of his broom, sending him swirling through the air. 

     he rises again, however, and joins your side. the two of you speed the length of the pitch, shoving and grabbing at each other’s brooms, laughing the entire time.

     “just give it up, l/n!” he jeers. “look at the state of your hand! there’s no way you can win this game now!”

    “piss off, weasley!” you yell back, before slamming your bat into an oncoming bludger, sending it straight for harry potter. 

    “oh, you cheeky git!” george exclaims, whizzing after the bludger to direct it elsewhere. you laugh, whizzing as high into the air as you can possibly go before madame hooch blows her whistle and scolds you. 

    the gryffindors start to struggle. you see it in the score board, how fast slytherin are catching up to them. harry is whizzing around like a madman, searching left, right and centre for the snitch that draco is also on the prowl for. you, however, keep your eyes on the bludger, every now and then diverting your attention to the ginger boy who keeps blocking your path.

    “you think this is a kids game, y/n?” he calls, snatching at the bristles on the back of your broom, yanking you back in a way that would usually deliver a penalty, but everyone’s eyes are on draco and harry, so nobody spots the discrepancy. 

    “oh, definitely not!” you yell back. “watch out, georgie; looks like goyle’s put himself into high gear!”

    you do a loop in the air, giving george no time to even process your words before the bludger goyle whacked in his direction crashes into his back, knocking him straight off the front of his broom.

   you would be lying to claim there was not a moment of worry, a moment of genuine contemplation to follow him to the ground, make sure he’s alright. however, that moment is short lived when george gives you the finger, clambers right back on his broom and continues the game with more brutality than you’ve ever seen him possess.

   you’re panting by the end of it, sweat dripping from your brow, seeping into the thin cloth of your quidditch robes. you’ve screamed yourself hoarse, throat aching and raw, but you manage to still scream victory when the final whistle goes off and lee jordan is forced to announce slytherin’s success over the loud speakers.

     you crash to the ground, immediately joining the group hug, draco in the centre.

    “that’s my boy!” you yell, ruffling his hair. “you absolute fucking legend, draco malfoy!”

    draco scowls, shoving your hand away. “don’t know why any of you are surprised.”

    you flick his chin before pulling him back in for a hug. 

    once the team celebrations are over, however, you turn your attention to george. you’ve been doing that a lot more often these days - looking for him in a crowd, wanting to share your joy with him, even when your joy swipes his own from right under his nose.

    you spot him in an instant, because - as always - he’s already looking at you. he’s scowling this time, but that doesn’t stop you from dropping your broom and skipping over to him.

    “we won! we won! we won!” you jeer, grabbing the badge on your robe and shoving it in his face. “see that, weasley? that’s the crest of a winner! that’s the crest of the best house in this fucking school!”

    george folds his arms over his chest, staring as you jump up and down in excitement. 

    he lets you continue until you tire yourself out. you laugh tiredly, pleased to see the tiniest twitch of george’s lips as he glares down at you. 

    finally he says, “finished?”

    “oh, don’t be a sore loser!” you throw your arms over his shoulders, because you’re tired and you don’t really care about anything right now. “tell you what; i’ll celebrate with you later on.”

    george recoils, arms still folded over his chest, making your embrace slightly uncomfortable, though you refuse to let go. “why would i want to celebrate with you?”

   “listen mate, take it or leave it; i have an entire team i could be celebrating with right now.”

     george stiffens. you lift your head, leaning your chin against his chest. he glares down at you, and before you can grasp what his intentions are, he leans down and pecks you on the lips.

    just like that. no explanation, no warning. the kiss lasts no longer than two seconds before he pulls away, breaks out of your embrace and says, “go celebrate with your slytherin friends.”

    he turns, starting up the field. for a second, you just stare after him, shellshocked, but then the scene replays in your head, and you’re suddenly overcome with the need to repay him.

    you dash after him, despite the ache in your legs and the exhaustion in your bones. you grab the back of his quidditch robes, spin him around, and it’s like he expects it - he drops his broom, stretches his arms out and catches you the moment you leap into his embrace and slam your lips to his.

   and it’s so strange, but so perfect, so relieving all at the same time. he holds you tighter, one hand coming up to cup the back of your neck whilst you busy yourself with trailing your hands through his thick, messy, windswept hair. 

   behind you, you listen to draco groan out the words, “now?” but it does nothing to deter you from the moment. 

   you pull away first. “i’ve changed my mind.”

    panting, george says, “about what?”

    “you should come celebrate with me,” you reply. “i don’t want to celebrate with my slytherin friends any more.”

     george laughs. in the background, you hear draco telling the other slytherins to just head up to the common room - you won’t be there for another few hours. 

[fraidycat-art]

I got way too into gmod hogwarts rp and found some other serious roleplayers and bOY AM I GLAD I DID

[letsnotdoanything]

ATEEZ as Hogwarts students

i started writing this like a few months ago and completely forgot about it lmao

also, i have no idea if a crossover like that will go down well or not, so feel free to leave something if you liked it!

GRYFFINDOR

Mingi

• muggle-born

• the prankster

• there isn't a single person in hogwarts who never heard of song mingi

• also because he's the gryffindor's seeker

• flying on his broomstick and causing mischief are his two favorite things on earth

• but!

• he never means to hurt anyone with his pranks

• make people laugh? yes

• cheer someone up? yes

• rile someone up? that also happens

• but never hurt anyone

Jongho

• pureblood

• overambitious

• his goal is to have the highest score possible on every test

• what he somehow managed to do so far

• he's the type to bombard you with the most random facts at the most random times

• there's a fine line between being smart and arrogant

• and he's a perfect proof

• he's also super royal to his friends

• he can smell disrespect from a mile, and if he does

• be aware because if you dare to throw meat on his mates

• the meat won't be the only thing that's thrown

SLYTHERIN

Seonghwa

• pureblood

• super cool

• has like a dark and mysterious aura

• his father works in the ministry on a high-profile position so everyone respects him

• (that doesn't stop mingi from pulling pranks on him though, but maybe he chooses them more wisely)

• also feels kind of pressured because of trying to keep his family's good name and meet his dad's expectations

• actually he's such a softie

• literally melts when he sees a niffler

• but that side of him is reserved only for a handful of people

• usually does everything alone

• it's not because people don't like him (sometimes they're just a bit scared), he simply prefers it that way

• slytherin's prefect

San

• pureblood

• besties with wooyoung

• (the more rational one)

• they make lots of trouble together and often get under mcgonagall's skin

• was really scared and confused about being sorted into slytherin at first

• but, mostly thanks to wooyoung, he learned that it isn't actually that bad and not all slytherins are selfish bastards

• woo helped him a lot during that time, and although he'd never say it out loud, he wants to return the favour someday

• slytherin quiddich team's beater 1/2

• very good at defence against the dark arts

Wooyoung

• pureblood

• besties with san

• was pretty chill about being in slytherin, unlike san

• and was the one who helped him settle in

• in fact, he's pretty chill in general

• doesn't get too stressed about grades (keeping them at a decent level is enough) or the house points

• nevertheless, he sometimes has to be pulled back by san

• because when he really wants to do something - he will do it

• and he's loud™

• like to the point where people used to mistake him for a gryffindor

• slytherin quiddich team's beater 2/2

RAVENCLAW

Hongjoong

• muggle-born

• so fucking done with ravenclaw's common room riddles

• like, it's not that he can't solve them

• it's just that he doesn't have the brain to figure it when he comes back from the library late in the evening

• so he usualy just studies in the common room

• you can see him sprawled on the floor with plenty of books and a stain of spilled ink

• sometimes other ravenclaws join him and they all sit in a big circle on the ground

• at first he studied a lot because he used to be really insecure about "not having wizard blood"

• but then it sort of turned into a habit

• ravenclaw's prefect

• but he's soft and usually lets things pass when first and second years ask him to

• literally the only person who listens to professor binns during history of magic

Yeosang

• half-blood

• the quiet kid

• only has a small pack of close friends

• and his owl

• no sworn enemies or anything

• doesn't mean he likes everyone though

• if you heard the slurs he throws on people in his mind-

• most people just annoy the shit out of him

• which is one of the reasons why he likes sneaking up to the astronomy tower, where he can be alone with his thoughts

• the other reason is that he's really into astronomy and loves watching the night sky

• has a deal with the ghosts so they don't turn him in

• wakes up early (unless he stayed up half a night in the tower) to get to the great hall first and avoid the morning chaos

HUFFLEPUFF

Yunho

• half-blood

• (i know that a lot of people think he'd be a gryffindor as he even wore a gryffindor scarf and all, but in my opinion he just has a hufflepuff vibe. the discussion is open)

• probably the softest and the nicest person in the whole school

• like,, everyone loves him

• and he loves everyone

• basically a textbook example of a hufflepuff

• plant dad

• which is why he's one of the best students in herbology and potions

• most of the times, he goes to the greenhouse before the lesson to check up on the plants and chitchat with professor sprout

• they probably have gossiped about every person in the castle at this point

[thefallenknights]

The Knights at Hogwarts what classes they'd be good at and not, would anyone play quidditch? Or be a prefect?

Short answer:

Phoenix

Best class: Defense Against the Dark arts

Worst class: Herbology

Prefect: No

Quiddich: Yes

Duke

Best class: Potions

Worst: History of magic

Prefect: Maybe honestly

Quiddich: No

Andy

Best class: Transfiguration & Divination

Worst class: Astronomy

Quiddich: Sort of

Prefect: No

Jayden

Best class: Charms

Worst class: Defense Against the Dark arts

Quiddich: No

Prefect: Yes

Artemis

Best class: Care of Magical creatures

Worst class: Potions

Quiddich: Eh..she tried

Prefect: No

Update: Long answer

Phoenix

Her best class is definitely Defense against the Dark arts

Not because of the typical Gryffindor thing, ew no

She's an exorcist and a damn good one at that, she's been trained literally all her life to fight demons and dark creatures

So DADA would come naturally, even if she doesn't care much about having favourite classes

She's kind of scary to go up against though because she's good

Jayden watches her on their free time to practice

She does not however like Herbology

She's fairly certain she's got allergies to most of the things in that greenhouse

Doesn't show up for class half the time for reason stated above

Just wants the teacher to move on to the deadly maneating plants and get it overwith already

Definitely plays Quiddich, probably as like a chaser

Tried out because some boy said girls don't play as well and man has he lived to regret that

Now Quiddich, there is something you might see her get passionate about

Only during practice though, she doesn't talk about it outside and brushes it off as "Just fine"

She's definitely an avid and competitive player, and you should be really scared for the opposing team

Running joke with her friends that everyone's glad she didn't become a beater

Can you imagine this scary redhead with a bat? Aiming the bludgers at people?

Tried it once for a year though, it was terrifying

Declined the idea of being a prefect because she was already made Gryffindor Quiddich captain and that was more than enough responsibility.

Andy

To be honest at first he thought he was going to ace charms

Because, as he says "I've got all of them"

Then he realized charms class was not what he thought it was

He got invested in Transfiguration instead and it became his favourite subject

Why? Because he's lazy but the more he learns about changing things into other things, the easier his life gets

Also pranks

Point is, he got really invested and actually pays attention in class

Vigorous notes

He's also good at divination

Except he doesn't know how

He completely guessed the whole thing and somehow interprets it right

Probably because he makes it look like he's trying very hard and the teacher loves his enthusiasm

Astronomy is a whole other deal though

He's not the absolute worst at it by all means

But sometimes, just sometimes

"That's Ursa major"

"Wait that's the bear? That doesn't even remotely look like a bear. That looks like a cooking pan"

A lot of the stars look the same to him

He guesses half the time

Sometimes it works wonderfully, sometimes the exact opposite

Andy, troublemaker, social elite, a prefect? Enforcer of the rules?

Perish the thought

Now no one is as competitive a quiddich player as Phoenix

But no one is as talkative and into other people's interests as Andy

So he joins Quiddich

As a commentator

He's the most popular one amongst students

And the one teachers yell at the most for getting a bit biased or off topic

Jayden

Not to say he's naturally talented with every single class

But he works very hard and it really shows in his grades

When it comes to charms especially, if you don't know him, you'd think he's a natural.

Don't be surprised to see a big study group gathered around him in the common rooms before the O.W.Ls.

Not unusual to see people from other houses join in on the study session.

He's even taken over as denmother for the younger housemates and tutors them too

Now Jayden isn't a confrontational guy

Their friend group already has Duke and Phe & that's more than enough

So a dueling class that requires not studying beforehand, but spontaneous reaction like DADA?

Not his strong suit at all

That's where his best friendship with Pheonix comes in

She's more than willing to let him watch and practice whenever

Gets royally irked though because he doesn't like using attack spells on his friends

Almost yelled at him about being too good multiple times

He's not a big sports fan

So Quiddich was not an option

He's more than glad to just be supportive of his friends on the stands

When he's not having a crisis between cheering for his friend or his house

After all that, anyone who thinks he wouldn't be a perfect prefect is wrong

Takes this responsibility very seriously

Especially against Andy's bribery every time the latter gets into trouble

He's also one of the most likely to become Head Boy

Duke

Looks like a total dropout

Yet aces portions like nobody's business

Watching him work is like watching the Wizard version of master chef

Except he knows what he's doing and making it look like he's doing something as simple as making his bed

It's funnier when his resting face makes him look like he's really angry

Anyone asks though he says it's just because most people can't read simple instructions and that's why they fail.

Honestly he's probably right

Now, Duke is a practical guy, and potions is a practical subject

History of magic... is not

He doesn't understand the point of it

And what he doesn't understand the point of he doesn't care about

...Unless he's forced to because he still respects Mcgonagall and her disappointed look is enough to make even Voldemort flinch

There's one way he would become a prefect

And that's because he doesn't trust any of the failures in his house to be

Okay maybe two, he also gets to give detention to said failures if they annoy him.

Quiddich though? No thanks

Dealing with all those popular, obnoxious, attention seeking little sh-

Also he was there when that one boy told Phoenix girls aren't as good in the sport

He'd never been prouder to know her but he's not getting involved

Artemis

Honestly, it was by complete accident that her best class ended up being caring for magical creatures

She always saw herself being good at a cool class like DADA

Theory is never properly translated into reality though

Some of the creatures, like the hippogriffs, ended up having a natural affinity for her

She ended up falling in love with them too

Now goes to visit them every day like her life depends on it

Potions…is not her fault, she swears

The professor is just too scary and makes her really nervous and prone to messing up a lot

Phoenix suggested she take things slow and have Duke help her practice

Except that she finds him scary too

Now each time she practices with Duke, one of the other knights has to be present for her to hide behind

Now, Arty is also a huge fangirl of Phoenix Duncan

So obviously when her idol was part of the Quidditch team, she had to try too

Except that the teams are so competitive she had never felt that much panic and anxiety in her life,

It was a very short-lived career choice

As for Prefect, it requires having authority and conviction to deduct points from people…meanwhile, Artemis spends most of her time with Andy, enough said.