#Seamus Finnigan study mood

[justanotherstudyblrrrr]

Harry Potter Characters as Study Moods: Seamus Finnigan.

Chemistry major | Scattered lab notes | Chaotic good | Faint scent of smoke | Licorice study snacks | Pencils behind the ear | All-nighters in the lab | Watching TV with friends during breaks | Studying different things with someone in the same room.

Dean | Seamus

[sapphirelass]

Two Peas in a Pod - Harry PotterxSister!Reader

Please note:

1: I don’t own any of the gifs used, nor any already established characters, so credit to the authors and original creators - You have done a phenomenal job :)

2: English is not my native language, as I was born and raised in Sweden. I have, however, studied English for almost a decade, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem, I just thought I’d let you know ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For this one-shot I have taken inspiration from both the book and the film, as well as left out parts of the original dialogue that, for the purpose of this story, felt irrelevant.

Word count: �� 2400

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You probably already knew this, but still XD

(Y/N) - Your name

(Y/N/N) - Your nickname

(Y/H/C) - Your hair colour

(Y/H/L) - Your hair length

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Two Peas in a Pod

Harry Potter and his twin sister (Y/N) were like two peas in a pod. Always had been. Supposedly, that was what happened when young magicians had to grow up with muggles, especially if those muggles were named “Dursley”. Harry was always more impulsive, whereas (Y/N) took on the role of the rational one, yet they had both been placed in Gryffindor house by the sorting hat four years prior.

It was now the first of September 1995, and last year had been a rough one. Lord Voldemort, the dark wizard who had killed Harry and (Y/N)’s parents, had just come back and despite their efforts, this holiday had been more miserable than any of the previous ones. Dudley and his friends, dementor attacks, and a general lack of communication with the wizarding world left the twins in a particularly bad mood. They arrived at Kings Cross, and after pulling Harry away from Draco Malfoy, (Y/N), her brother, Ron and Hermione boarded the Hogwarts express, and found a place to sit.

During the start-of-the-year feast, the small group of friends quickly realized that something was wrong. Their new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor - Dolores Umbridge - was a ministry employe, which was weird on its own, but the way she spoke, acted, and kept interrupting Dumbledore with shrill, irritating *hum hum*’s made them all feel queasy.

After a quiet discussion in the common room (and quite a bit of loud arguing between Harry and Seamus Finnigan), they went to bed, yawning, and not exactly looking forward to that year’s first period of DADA.

***

They entered the classroom, and to their surprise, Umbridge actually wasn’t there yet. Harry and (Y/N) shared a confused look, but went to sit down, Harry with Ron, and (Y/N) with Hermione. Eventually though, the professor did arrive, her unnaturally high-pitched voice bringing them all back to reality.

“Good morning, class!” she said cheerfully

There was a quiet murmur among the students, and Umbridge shook her head.

“Good Morning!” she said again, this time more sternly. “I expect you to answer me when spoken to.”

A slightly louder “Good morning professor” could be heard, and though Umbridge didn’t seem too pleased, she decided to move on with the lesson.

“Ordinary Wizarding Levels - OWLs” she started. “Your previous teachers in this subject have all been quite questionable choices, however this year things will be the way they were meant to. Open your books on page 4.”

A few minutes had passed before Hermione raised her hand and said “Professor, there is nothing in here about using defensive spells.”

“Using spells?” Umbridge asked, laughing nastily

“We’re not to use magic?” Ron asked

“You will be learning defensive magic in a safe, risk-free environment”

“But”, said Harry, rather angrily, “what good would that do? If we were attacked that wouldn’t be risk-free!”

“Ha!”, laughed Umbridge, “And who exactly do you think would want to attack a helpless child such as yourself? Besides, the education you will receive will be more than enough for you to pass your OWLs, and that is after all just what school is about.” She finished with a smirk, looking rather satisfied with her speech.

(Y/N), who had sat quietly this whole time shifted slightly in her chair, and exclaimed: “It’s not though!

“Sorry?” Umbridge asked, dumbfounded

“School isn’t solely about receiving good grades! It’s about preparing the students for life, and supplying them with the tools and knowledge necessary in order to succeed and improve. If we’re not going to do that, then why, may I ask, is this a mandatory course? It’s already starting to seem rather pointless to me.”

Harry was perplexed. How his sister always managed to, 1: use her words in such a remarkable way, and 2: remain calm through the most infuriating of situations was a mystery to him, however he turned his gaze back towards Umbridge, waiting for her reply.

“Nonsense” She said. “This course is compulsory, and rightfully so!”

“How though?” Inquired (Y/N), pushing it further than she probably should have. “Can you name any situation, apart from the exam, where your teachings will be of any help to us? Or didn’t the ministry consider that?”

That was the top of the iceberg.

“DETENTION!!” shouted Umbridge. “My office, 8:30 would you be so kind, Ms Potter.”

(Y/N) flinched. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, however detention was not something she had to endure very often. That was more Harry’s thing. She sank quietly back onto her chair, and Umbridge continued with her boring, unnecessary lesson, reciting facts and procedures they had all learnt about 4 years earlier. (Y/N) could feel her brother staring, practically burning a hole in her neck, but somehow, probably thanks to Ron, he kept quiet for the rest of the class.

An hour later, class ended and none of the Gryffindor students wasted any time getting out of Umbridge’s classroom. (Y/N) threw her stuff into her brown, leather bag and dashed out of the room without making eye contact with her brother or friends.

“(Y/N/N)!” Harry shouted. “Wait up!”

He caught up with his sister on the stairs leading down to McGonagall’s classroom.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Looking up at him with an annoyed stare she said “Yes Harry! Just brilliant!” with a sarcastic tone in her voice. She kept on walking, but Harry grabbed her shoulder. A few years ago, they had been roughly the same size, but Harry had grown A LOT, and was by now almost seven inches taller. All the quidditch training had apparently paid off too, and (Y/N) knew instantly that she would never be able to escape his firm, yet gentle grip. He glanced down on her with a worried look on his face.

“I’m serious!” he said. “Stop”

She turned around and faced him. “What?” She spat at him, suddenly noticing her icy voice.

“Sorry…” (Y/N) mumbled, “she just pissed me off. I’m fine.” Her facial expression softened and she met Harry’s eyes for the first time since class ended. He let go of her shoulders, and was just about to say something when a tall ginger came running at full speed and gave (Y/N) a supportive pat on the back.

“That was bloody brilliant!” Ron exclaimed. “(Y/N), did you see the look on her face? Bloody hell, she was angrier than Malfoy after Harry beat him in his first quidditch match!”

“Yes” stated (Y/N) simply, as Hermione made her way down the stairs, “I saw…”

“Oh cheer up!” stated Ron, “an hour or two of detention isn’t the end of the world. If you ask me, it was totally worth it!”

Hermione gave him a disapproving stare as (Y/N) sadly stated, “It might not have been the cleverest thing to do” Both Harry and Hermione blinked at her with a sort of “you-don’t-say?” kind of look as she kept on speaking. “But you must admit that it’s the truth? Defence against the dark arts has never been as important as it is right now. We are all going to die before the end of the year unless we learn and improve?!”

“You’re right.” Hermione muttered, and surprisingly, she smiled slightly. “But we’ll have to talk about that later, otherwise we’ll be late for transfiguration. Come on!”

***

The rest of the day went by rather quickly, and the quartet soon found themselves in front of the fireplace in the common room. It was about 8:20 when (Y/N) stood up, grabbed a jacket, and left for Umbridge’s office.

“Good luck!” Harry said, frowning deeply, “I’ll wait for you here.”

(Y/N) turned around quickly, “Haz, you don’t have to. I’ll be fine. You need your sleep and I have no idea how long this is going to take.”

Harry gave her a sort or irritated look, to which she sighed and left without a word.

“What do you think she’ll have her do?” Hermione questioned.

“I don’t know” Harry hissed, “but I’m sure she’ll tell me when she gets back...”

The remaining three looked at each other. Ron threw Harry a chocolate frog, and then - they waited…

***

*knock knock*

There was a slight clinking noise, like metal on china, followed by a repulsing “come in”. (Y/N) took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

“Ah!” chirped Umbridge, “Potter, sit down, will you?”

(Y/N) apprehensively made her way across the room to the chair her so-called “professor” had pointed at. She sat down and looked around nervously.

“You will be writing some sentences for me today, no” Umbridge said, as (Y/N) reached down to her bag to pick up something to write with. “no, not with your own quill. You’ll be using a rather special one of mine.” She smiled evilly, and pushed a black, pointy feather across the table.

(Y/N) grabbed it carefully and asked in a silent, trembling voice, “what should I write?”

“Oh, right! How about… ‘I must obey my superiors’?”

***

It was about three hours later, when (Y/N) slowly made her way back to the common room, red, hot blood dripping from her left hand leaving a small trail through the corridor. The pain had intensified, and was by this point almost unbearable. She took a quick detour to the girls’ bathroom, hoping to be able to clean herself up a bit before having to face her friends and brother. She had told him to go to sleep, after all, it was almost midnight by now, but she knew him all too well. The odds of him being in bed were absolutely zero.

She watched the thick, red liquid disappear down the sink and let a few tears fall, before grabbing some paper making sure no tears or blood could be seen. She had to make it through the common room up to the dormitories quickly though, since she was sure Harry would be able to tell she’d been crying, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. Sure, she could just tell him, but something inside her argued against that. He had been rather angry and distressed all summer, and she knew he wasn’t feeling much better now. Harry had enough to deal with without handling her problems too.

Entering the common room, roughly four seconds had passed before her brother was by her side.

“Hey,” he said gently, “everything okay?”

She nodded and mumbled a quiet. “Yes. ‘m tired though, night Harry”

She walked the stairs up to her dorm, leaving Harry behind. He simply stood there dumbfounded. What had just happened? “Oh… okay, night (Y/N/N)”

She didn’t answer…

***

The following morning, he found her at the breakfast table, slowly digesting a tiny portion of porridge. She was wearing one of his old quidditch jumpers underneath her cloak. He knew, because it was far too big for her, and the sleeves reached down to her fingertips.

“Hey,” he said, ruffling her (Y/H/L), (Y/H/C) hair, “Feeling better?”

“Sure, “ she murmured, slowly pulling the sleeves even further down. He gave her a supportive hug.

“But come on now, “ he urged her. “You can’t be sad forever. What did she have you do?”

“Nothing…”

“(Y/N/N)!”

“Just write some sentences. It was fine, rather dull to be honest with you.” She threw the spoon into the bowl, and pushed it away. “How are you feeling? Any bad dreams?”

“Always…” he muttered, shaking his head at the milk that had splashed out on the table, “could have been worse though.”

Harry made himself some toast, as Ron and Hermione joined them in the great hall.

***

A week or so later Harry had had enough. It was in defence against the dark arts, on a rather cold Tuesday afternoon that he finally snapped, and shouted at professor Umbridge, who seemed almost too happy for a reason to give him detention.

The gang sat, yet again, around the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, when Harry suddenly left and climbed through the portrait hole. He came back a few hours later, a downright furious look on his face, and walked straight up to his sister without even noticing the ghost he had stumbled through. He looked down at her smaller frame, his quidditch jumper yet again pulled over her head.

“Let me see, ” he said through gritted teeth, causing (Y/N) to look up at him, trying her best to act confused.

“Wha…”

“(Y/N) - let. me. see.” he repeated firmly, his emerald eyes penetrating the mental wall behind which she had been trying so hard to hide her troubles.

She closed her eyes and pulled her sleeve up to her elbow. The blood had naturally dried, however five heart wrenching words were etched into her still red, irritated skin.

I must obey my superiors

No one said a thing. (Y/N) was staring at the floor, not daring to meet her brother’s eyes, all while Harry felt madder than he ever had before.

Madder than when Dudley had been pushing him around the school yard.

Madder than when Malfoy had taunted him because of the dementors.

Madder than when he had found out that his aunt and uncle had lied about their parents true fate for almost 10 years.

This was his sister, and it was far from okay.

Without thinking, Harry was just about to shout at her for keeping something like that from him, when he noticed that she was crying. Soft, quiet sobs that she were clearly trying to hide. It felt as if all his anger simply washed away, and he crouched down and took her hand in his.

Harry’s hand was still covered in blood. He hadn’t had time to clean it, but had instead taken the shortest way to the common room, after realizing what had happened. Raising his right hand, he pulled her closer and felt her lean her head on his chest. They sat like that, arms wrapped around each other, for hours and slowly started drifting off to sleep.

Were they okay? Not at all. Would they be? Absolutely! Because they had each other, and when it really came down to it, that was all they needed, as the Potter twins were just like two peas in a pod.

~ L

Masterlist

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: In Vino Veritas

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 Special Delivery (previously Amende Honorable) by alittlebitAlexie Rated:  Mature Words:  11628 Tags: Post-Second War with Voldemort, Apologies, Misunderstandings, Accidents, Owl Post (Harry Potter), Bartender Draco Malfoy, Bartender Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson Friendship, POV Draco Malfoy, Unrequited Crush, Diagon Alley, Death Eater Trials mentioned, Letters, Love Letters, Gay Draco Malfoy, Flatmates Draco and Pansy, panic attack (mentioned), Nightclub, Confrontations, Running Away, Outing, Veritaserum, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Kissing, Snogging, Undressing, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Secret Crush, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant Summary:  After his trial, Draco writes apology letters to everyone he has hurt. Not so special. But he writes two to Harry. One to actually send, and one (that was never meant to see the light of day) to pour his heart out and admit things like thinking Harry has a fit arse and was his sexual awakening. What could go wrong? Well, Pansy could accidentally mail the wrong letter. That's what. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Vanilla and Sweet Spices by FleetofShippyShips Rated:  Explicit Words:  20032 Tags: HP: EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Drinking, Drunkenness, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Time, Awkward First Times, Morning After, Mildly Dubious Consent, Because of the drinking, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pressure to drink Summary:  After the others leave an eighth year party, Harry still has the rum he snagged off Dean. But the only person left to drink it with is Draco Malfoy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Veritaserum by Digitallace Rated:  Explicit Words:  5822 Tags: N/A Summary:  Draco brews a batch of veritaserum in order to get some answers out of Harry at last. ❤️ Read on FFN

📜 Stand Back: I'm About to Perform Archaeology by Blowfish_Diaries Rated:  Explicit Words:  9784 Tags: Archaeology, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Fluff, Copious Dr Who references, literally zero angst, Mentions of Draco in lingerie, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Drinking Games, Washing pottery, Seriously so much pottery washing, All of archaeology is actually just pottery washing, Draco in safari gear, glamping Summary:  A new Muggle Studies professor takes the Eighth Year students to work on an archaeological excavation. In which Draco is lazy, Harry is sweaty, Hermione is drunk, and Ron turns red. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Sex, Lies, and Veritaserum by lettered Rated:  Explicit Words:  17953 Tags: Dirty Talk, Fingerfucking, Anal Sex, Kink Negotiation Summary:  This entire fic is one long conversation about sex. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 In Vino Veritas by cassie-black12 Rated:  Explicit Words:  16986 Tags: In Vino Veritas, HD_Holidays Summary:  They say weddings are the perfect occasion for bringing together family and friends; but what about old enemies? ❤️ Read on LJ

📜 You Say It's Your Birthday by Emma Grant Rated:  Explicit Words:  ~4000 Tags: N/A Summary:  Harry gets very drunk on his 30th birthday, so drunk that he has no idea what happened that night -- except that it somehow involved Draco Malfoy. ❤️ Read on LJ

📜 A Shorts Story About Love by onereader Rated:  Explicit Words:  3439 Tags: Magic University - Freeform, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Student Harry Potter, Student Draco Malfoy, Recreational Drug Use, Marijuana, Bisexual Draco Malfoy, Bisexual Harry Potter, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Anal Sex, Making Out, Getting Together, recreational alcohol use, Pansy regrets everything, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Hermione is the friend we all want, Lowkey they're all fucking, Breaking house rules, A couch is properly defiled, Smoke rings as foreplay, The way to a man's heart is through his shorts Summary:  House-sharing with Slytherins, student life, magic weed, and short shorts. Harry's life at university might be strange, but he wouldn't change it for the world. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Between Myth and Man by slytherco Rated:  Explicit Words:  16242 Tags: Veritaserum, Truth Serum, Mundane, London, Falling In Love, Lies, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, This whole story is just Draco angsting really, Sexual Content, keeping secrets, Smoking, Bad Weather, References to Drugs, Making Out, One (1) Scared Little Sparrow, And also lots of texting Summary:  Draco, lost and a little broken, navigates post-war reality convinced that people like him should not be allowed to make their own choices. To solve the problem of his self-sabotaging tendencies, he starts taking a few drops of Veritaserum every morning. A story about the complexity of choices, repressed desires that come to the surface when we least expect them, and the utter hopelessness of truths built on a foundation of lies. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Proving a Theory by Marie_Tomas Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  29024 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Humor, POV Harry Potter, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Flirting, Awkward Flirting, Bad Flirting, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Confessions, Hogsmeade, Three Broomsticks, Professor Harry Potter, Oblivious Harry Potter, Character Study, Relationship Discussions, Light-Hearted, Sexuality, Confused Harry, Plot Twists, Scheming, Famous Harry, Harry Potter is So Done Summary:  Eleven years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry is approached one evening at the Three Broomsticks by Draco Malfoy, who claims that thanks to the publication of Harry's official biography, everybody in the wizarding world has come up with a very interesting theory about the two of them... ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Christmas Is For Sex (and Love), So Give It To Me by GoldenTruth813 Rated:  Explicit Words:  53218 Tags: PWP, Established Relationship, Christmas, Bondage, misuse of frosting, making gingerbread houses, coming without touching, Blowjobs, Fingering, anal penetration, Rimming, misuse of fairy lights, Praise Kink, Nipple Clamps, erotic massages, Lingerie, Harry in Lingerie, Butt Plugs, Masterbation, Dirty Talk, Overstimulation, Topping from the Bottom, Ice Play, misuse of snowballs, misuse of brandy custard, veritasium, Public Sex, misuse of christmas candles, Wax Play, floating blow jobs, bubble baths, Candy Canes, misuse of candy canes, sex with feelings, Clubbing, naughty letters, babysitting teddy, Edging, healing past trauma, really so much more than sex, but lots of sex too, spiked hot cocoa, Drunk confessions, Anal penetration with a foreign object, french!draco, Switching Summary:  Draco buys Harry an Advent House, intent on helping Harry create all new holiday memories, and have a lot of great sex in the process. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Mixed Drinks and Crossed Wires by korlaena Rated:  Explicit Words:  16470 Tags: Auror Harry Potter, EWE, Miscommunication, Pining, Drinking, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunken Kissing, Face-Fucking, Anal Sex, Light Dom/sub, Friends to Lovers Summary:  Draco is a handsy drunk. Harry is okay with it, really. They’re friends, so it doesn’t mean anything. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Never Feel the Burning Light by carpemermaid Rated:  Explicit Words:  48578 Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fake Marriage, Living Together, Party Games, Sharing a Bed, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Denial, Pining, Mutual Pining, Jealousy, Hero Complex, Masturbation, Intergluteal Sex, Oral Sex, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Falling In Love, HP: EWE, Prostate Massage, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Ginny Weasley/Luna Lovegood, Minor Pansy Parkinson/Theodore Nott, Romance, brief mentions of Draco Malfoy/OMC, Lack of Communication, Getting Together, Slow Burn Summary:  When it falls to Draco to restore his family name to its former glory the road ahead of him is long, but with Harry Potter’s help and a plan that is just this side of ridiculous he just might succeed at accomplishing his goals and getting what he wants. What neither of them plan on is falling in love along the way. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A Bit of Honesty by manixzen Rated:  Explicit Words:  3654 Tags: Professor Draco Malfoy, Professor Harry Potter, Veritaserum, Enemies to Lovers, Making Out, Frottage, Semi-Public Sex, HP Kinktober 2020, Hogwarts Professors Summary:  A Hogwarts ball, a spiked punch, Professor Potter and Professor Malfoy on chaperone duty… what could go wrong? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Adventures in Truth and Texting by fluxweed Rated:  Explicit Words:  7981 Tags: Texting, Drunk Texting, Sexting, Veritaserum, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Auror Harry Potter, Drinking, Christmas, Advent Fic, Awkwardness, everyone has phones, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE Summary:  Former Death Eaters are being targeted with a Veritaserum curse – it’s permanent, and makes victims speak aloud their every thought. Luckily, it’s easier to control when writing – and Hermione is trying to introduce Muggle technology to the wizarding world. An advent fic featuring texting, identity struggles, and a Draco Malfoy who will literally not stop talking. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The seven stages of alcohol intoxication by Sassy3 Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  2714 Tags: Alcohol, Drunkenness, Drunken Confessions, In Vino Veritas, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Partners, Oblivious Harry Potter, Supportive Ron Weasley, Supportive Seamus Finnigan, Minor Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Alcohol Intoxication, Friends to Lovers, Drunk Harry Potter, 7 stages of alcohol intoxication Summary:  After a challenging day at work, with a big presentation the next day, Harry wasn't quite in the mood to celebrate Seamus' birthday. But, what's the harm in just one drink? Stage 3: Excitement Harry was in the middle of a shot race with Seamus, when he got the brilliant idea that he should inform Malfoy what a good partner he was. He’d never told Malfoy how much he appreciated him and how much Harry enjoyed working with him, but he should totally do that right away. Harry dragged Seamus in for a hug, and shouted into his ear. “Mate, I’m going to talk to Malfoy. Tell him how much I like him. Like work. No, like working him. With him?” ❤️ Read on AO3

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars XXVIII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Let’s play a game called how many times can Mel lose her temper in one chapter lmaoo -P.S. Yes, future Danny is doing just fine, thank you babe. Her stiches healed perfectly.

Words: 3,054

Warnings: Grumpy kids being childish.

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Ten: Salazar’s Chamber.

"You know what? I'm going to ask her-"

"She'll hex you!"

"Worth it."

The boy approached Mel on her way to History class. He cleared his throat and stood in front of her.

"Hello?" She frowned.

"You're the Dumbledore girl, aren't you?" He asked.

She was truly not in the mood.

"I'm in a hurry if you couldn't tell," She pressured. "I have to go-"

"I have a question," He said. "it won't take long..."

"Ask me then," She sighed, moving her head a little to look for her friends behind the boy's back.

"Is Harry a pureblood?"

Her attention snapped back at him.

"What?"

"Is he a pureblood?" He repeated. "Are you? Why did you do that to the cat? If you ask me that was an awful prank, shows poor taste-"

"Good thing I didn't ask," She growled. "That's none of your business."

"Yeah, sure it isn't..." He huffed, walking away.

Mel stood there in stunned silence for a second, then she hurried over to her group of friends.

"People here have no manners!" Was the first thing she told them. "Honestly, a boy dared to ask me if Harry and I were purebloods!"

"Don't listen to them," Ron replied, "at least you didn't try to fight them this time, right?"

"Being your family's only heir is hard work. I wish I had the liberty to just kick some legs from time to time," She shook her head.

"Kicks legs?" Ron grinned.

"I can't reach their faces," Mel pouted.

Hermione rarely dared to interrupt a class, on the fewer times she did it, you knew it was a big deal. That day during History of Magic, she raised her hand in the middle of the lecture, taking Professor Binns by surprise.

"Miss - er -?"

"Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets"

The reaction was immediate, every kid in the room turned to look at their professor with eager eyes.

"My subject is History of Magic," He replied. "I deal with facts, Miss Granger, not myths and legends... In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers-"

Hermione's hand shot up in the air once more.

"Miss Grant?"

"Please, sir, don't legends always have a basis in fact?"

"Well," Professor Binns pondered, "yes, one could argue that I suppose. However, the legend of which you speak is such a very sensational, even ludicrous tale -"

"But it's part of the castle's history isn't it?" Mel added, her hand up just in case, "Shouldn't we know the story of the place where we're standing? Otherwise, we'd go around believing every sensational, ludicrous tale other people tell us"

Professor Binns stood -or floated- in his place, deep in thought. Finally, he sighed and nodded.

"Oh, very well," Mel and Harry shared a discrete high-five. "Let me see... the Chamber of Secrets... You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago - the precise date is uncertain - by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution."

Mel knew all that, the entire school knew all that, but what did that had to do with the chamber?

"For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school."

Oh, of course, Slytherin was the villain.

Why was it always Slytherin? Mel was trying hard not to judge the book by its cover, but as the time went on it seemed just near to impossible.

"Reliable historical sources tell us this much, but these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing. Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic."

The children were deadly quiet, anyone who would've passed outside the classroom could've easily thought the place was empty.

"The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course. Naturally, the school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible."

Of course, that wasn't meant to happen, Slytherin must've been really sneaky -heh, snakey- the chamber must've had some heavy magic, something that could assure only the heir would find it.

Hermione raised her hand again.

"Sir - what exactly do you mean by the 'horror within' the Chamber?"

"That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control," said Professor Binns. "I tell you, the thing does not exist. There is no Chamber and no monster."

"But, sir," said Seamus Finnigan, "if the Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin's true heir, no one else would be able to find it, would they?"

My thoughts exactly.

"Nonsense, O'Flaherty. If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven't found the thing -"

"But, Professor," piped up Parvati Patil, "you'd probably have to use Dark Magic to open it -"

"Just because a wizard doesn't use Dark Magic doesn't mean he can't, Miss Pennyfeather," snapped Professor Binns. "I repeat, if the likes of Dumbledore -"

"But maybe you've got to be related to Slytherin, so Dumbledore couldn't -" began Dean Thomas.

"That will do," Professor Binns interrupted, "It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to history, to solid, believable, verifiable fact!"

They didn't mention the topic again, not until they were out of the classroom, anyway.

"I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old loony," Ron told them. "But I never knew he started all this pure-blood stuff. I wouldn't be in his house if you paid me. Honestly, if the Sorting Hat had tried to put me in Slytherin, I'd've got the train straight back home..."

"Ron," Mel cut his speech, "sometimes you're so dramatic. Slytherin isn't bad, the only menace here is the prejudice of empty minds. Look at what has been going on, people jumped into conclusions, not even caring to look at the facts"

"Which are?"

"An entire house can't possibly share the same beliefs as the founder! Sure, maybe traits, but a mind? Unlikely."

"You don't know that-"

"Oh, so you're saying you would fight a goblin just to get a hold of some sad little coins like Gryffindor used to?" She inquired.

Ron opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

"That's what I thought," She looked forward, then nudge Harry's arm, "sharing traits doesn't mean it's automatically your fault either, Glasses."

She knew, unlike Ron and Hermione, that the sorting hat had almost put Harry on Slytherin. At first, she'd been scared for him, but after knowing Erick it stopped feeling like a terrible idea, Harry was a good person after all. She knew a house couldn't change that.

"Hiya, Harry!" Colin said excitedly.

"Hullo, Colin," said Harry absentmindedly.

"Harry - Harry - a boy in my class has been saying you're-"

But a mass of students dragged him away before he could finish his comment.

"See you, Harry!"

"What's a boy in his class saying about you?" Hermione asked.

"That I'm Slytherin's heir, I expect," He shrugged, looking defeated.

"People here'll believe anything," Ron frowned "D'you really think there's a Chamber of Secrets?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, frowning. "Dumbledore couldn't cure Mrs. Norris, and that makes me think that whatever attacked her might not be - well - human."

"No no, he never said he couldn't cure her," Mel quickly replied, "only that spells wouldn't cut it. Meaning it's tricky, but not impossible to achieve by a person who's good at magic..."

They turned right on the corner and found themselves in the hall where Mrs Norris was found. They stood there in heavy silence.

"That's where Filch has been keeping guard," Ron muttered, pointing to the empty chair right underneath the torch.

"Can't hurt to have a poke around," said Harry, he looked closer at the ground and started to walk around, "Scorch marks! Here - and here -"

"Come and look at this!" said Hermione from her right, "This is funny..."

Mel and Harry approached the window, a  thin line of spiders was crawling out.

"Have you ever seen spiders act like that?" said Hermione wonderingly.

"Never."

"No," said Harry, "have you, Ron..? Ron?"

Ron was considerably far from them, his face lacking all color.

"What's up?" said Harry.

"I - don't - like - spiders," said Ron in a shaky whisper.

"I never knew that," said Hermione, "You've used spiders in Potions loads of times..."

"I don't mind them dead," said Ron, "I just don't like the way they move..."

Hermione giggled.

"It's not funny," Ron looked up in anger, "If you must know, when I was three, Fred turned my - my teddy bear into a great big fiIthy spider because I broke his toy broomstick... You wouldn't like them either if you'd been holding your bear and suddenly it had too many legs and..."

He grimaced. Mel stepped forward and put an arm around his shoulders -or at least tried to, Ron was too tall for her.

"That sounds awful," She glared at Hermione, who was still trying not to laugh. "But look at them, they're tiny!"

"They're hideous," He shuddered.

"There, there," Mel shook her head, reaching for his head, patting softly. She had to stand on her tiptoes for that, "it's all good, you don't have to touch them or anything"

Ron smiled awkwardly at her, calming down. Harry cleared his throat, looking slightly more serious than moments ago, however, Mel failed to notice.

"Remember all that water on the floor? Where did that come from? Someone's mopped it up."

"It was about here," said Ron pointing to a door in front of them, "Level with this door."

He was about to open it when he looked up to the sign and jumped back.

"What's the matter?" said Harry.

"Can't go in there," said Ron gruffly. "That's a girls' toilet."

"Oh, Ron, there won't be anyone in there," said Hermione, walking up to the door, "That's Moaning Myrtle's place. Come on, let's have a look."

"Ah yes, I need to see her face at least once a week to feel like I'm doing a good job with my life," Mel joked, walking in.

"Hello, Myrtle, how are you?" Hermione asked aloud.

"This is a girls' bathroom," she said above their heads, "They're not girls."

"No," Hermione agreed. "We just wanted to show them how er - nice it is in here."

"Ask her if she saw anything," Harry murmured.

"What are you whispering?" said Myrtle, staring at him.

"Nothing," said Harry quickly. "We wanted to ask -"

"I wish people would stop talking behind my back!" said Myrtle, in a voice choked with tears. "I do have feelings, you know, even if I am dead -"

"You're such a mess," Mel mumbled.

"Myrtle, no one wants to upset you," said Hermione. "Harry only -"

"No one wants to upset me! That's a good one!" howled Myrtle. "My life was nothing but misery at this place and now people come along ruining my death!"

"We wanted to ask you if you've seen anything funny lately," said Hermione quickly. "Because a cat was attacked right outside your front door on Halloween."

"Did you see anyone near here that night?" said Harry.

"I wasn't paying attention," said Myrtle. "Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to kill myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I'm - that I'm-"

"Already dead," said Ron.

She disappeared in her toilet, crying very loudly.

"Honestly, that was almost cheerful for Myrtle..." Hermione shrugged, "Come on, let's go."

As they walked out, a voice startled them.

"RON!" Percy Weasley rushed over to them. "That's a girls' bathroom! What were you -?"

"Just having a look around," Ron shrugged. "Clues, you know -"

"Get - away - from - there -! Don't you care what this looks like? Coming back here while everyone's at dinner -"

"Why shouldn't we be here?" said Ron hotly. "Listen, we never laid a finger on that cat!"

"That's what I told Ginny," said Percy fiercely, "but she still seems to think you're going to be expelled, I've never seen her so upset, crying her eyes out, you might think of her, all the first years are thoroughly overexcited by this business -"

"You don't care about Ginny," said Ron. "You're just worried I'm going to mess up your chances of being Head Boy -"

"Five points from Gryffindor!" Percy almost yelled at his younger brother, "And I hope it teaches you a lesson! No more detective work, or I'll write to Mum!"

Mel didn't even bother to try and calm her friend, she knew it was better to just let Ron have his little temper tantrum.

Hours later, sitting in front of the fireplace, the conversation came back to life.

"Who can it be, though?" Hermione said in a quiet voice. "Who'd want to frighten all the Squibs and Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts?"

"Let's think," said Ron mockingly. "Who do we know who thinks Muggle-borns are scum?"

"If you're talking about Malfoy -"

"Of course I am!" said Ron. "You heard him - 'You'll be next, Mudbloods!'- come on, you've only got to look at his foul rat face to know it's him -"

"Malfoy, the Heir of Slytherin?" asked Hermione.

"It does sound a bit too fantastic," Mel agreed.

"Look at his family," said Harry, closing his books, too. He'd been upset as well that afternoon, though Mel didn't know exactly why, she assumed it was the whole situation in general, "The whole lot of them have been in Slytherin; he's always boasting about it. They could easily be Slytherin's descendants. His father's definitely evil enough."

"They could've had the key to the Chamber of Secrets for centuries!" said Ron. "Handing it down, father to son..."

"Well," said Hermione cautiously, "I suppose it's possible..."

"But how do we prove it?" said Harry darkly.

"There might be a way," said Hermione. "Of course, it would be difficult. And dangerous, very dangerous. We'd be breaking about fifty school rules, I expect -"

"If, in a month or so, you feel like explaining, you will let us know, won't you?" asked Ron grumpily.

"Drop the attitude already," Mel snapped, "she's only trying to help!"

"All right," said Hermione coldly. "What we'd need to do is to get inside the Slytherin common room and ask Malfoy a few questions without him realizing it's us."

"But that's impossible," Harry said.

"No, it's not," said Hermione. "All we'd need would be some Polyjuice Potion."

Mel gasped.

"You've lost it 'Mione, for real this time"

"What's that?" said Ron and Harry.

"Snape mentioned it in class a few weeks ago -"

"D'you think we've got nothing better to do in Potions than listen to Snape?" muttered Ron.

"I said you drop it!" Mel insisted, "Let her finish!"

"It transforms you into somebody else. Think about it! We could change into four of the Slytherins. No one would know it was us. Malfoy would probably tell us anything. He's probably boasting about it in the Slytherin common room right now, if only we could hear him."

Mel straightened up in her seat.

If only they could know what people from Slytherin was saying.

If only they knew someone from Slytherin.

But Mel did.

"Hold on," Mel interrupted, "maybe we don't have to risk it."

"What’d you mean?" Ron frowned.

She hesitated.

"I... I might have another way to find out. One that's easier," Before they could ask she added, "but you'll have to trust me, I can't tell you what it is"

"Sometimes you're worse than 'Mione," Ron rolled his eyes, standing up from his chair. "I'm going to bed before my head explodes..."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" Mel asked, annoyed at her friend's behavior.

Ron only sent a glare her way before going to his room.

"Ronald," Mel huffed, grabbing her things and putting them back inside her bag, "what a huge-"

"Don't say anything you could regret," Harry warned her.

"He's just so hard to deal with sometimes!" She closed her bag harshly, "he could learn a thing or two from you. All this affects you and here you are, being nice and sweet as always..."

Harry beamed at her comment.

"I'm just more used to it-"

"Fiddlesticks," Mel shook her head, she'd heard that word once, and used it whenever she needed to lighten up her mood, "you're a good boy, Glasses. I don't understand how could anyone believe you're the heir."

She stood up, her bag hanging on one shoulder.

"I'll go to bed too," She leaned to peck his cheek, it only lasted a moment, but it was enough to make her blush intensely. She turned around before Harry could notice, "G'night!"

Harry also went to bed shortly after that, his mood inexplicably revived after hearing Mel's compliments.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018 @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @celestialhayi @omiwashere @mikariell95 @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz​ 

[drarrydrabble-blog]

The Words I Didn’t Say

Pairing: Drarry

Warning: Suicide mention, Death

Word Count: 9k+

Dedication: To all of my lovely betas who made sure my story wasn’t a hot mess!

A/N: The trope I used is based on this idea here! I thought it was very interesting, but don’t look now if you don’t want any spoilers!

The grounds of Hogwarts stood bleak on that particular Saturday on a snowy December. The sky, a mirky, ugly grey peeked into the eighth year common room windows, not minding any of its business as the forty-something students lounged around, doing absolutely nothing. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan sat in one corner, swigging from a shared bottle of contraband firewhisky. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger coddled each other, hands entwined. While the bushy-haired nineteen-year-old aimlessly stared into the fire, her counterpart supported her weight, looking just as crestfallen. The few Slytherins that dare returned sat amongst themselves and those who were forced back under punishment, such as Draco Malfoy and Gregory Goyle, stood aside, separate from everyone else.

The eighth years were in a particularly sour mood, except for Draco Malfoy, who’d been that way for quite some time.

Since those who fought in the war returned to Hogwarts eighth year under official Ministry instruction, Draco stood aside as someone who no longer withheld his typical spunk and flare. He answered particularly tricky questions in class if he rose his hand before Hermione Granger and no longer had access to studying Defence Against Dark Arts. Draco was bricked up in a sturdy cell of his school, his sentence for making the idiotic decision to step into his father’s shoes. Though he walked free like the others who were instructed to return, there remained a heavy restraint that pinned him to the ground by his shoulders, and he didn’t enjoy it one bit.

No one associated themselves with him either. The mere mention of hanging out with a Death Eater would’ve sent rumours, quite literally, flying around the school. The victim would’ve been prosecuted at the hands of the patriotic students of Hogwarts, the teachers standing aside because they took a disliking to Malfoy and anyone who would lessen themselves to his liking.

Even Goyle, Draco’s once best friend, wouldn’t get too close to him. Given, the past few months had been entirely rocky, but Gregory wouldn’t even glance in his direction any further.

Because of this, because of the war he fought on the wrong side of, Draco remained completely friendless.

Sometimes, when the loneliness became all too overwhelming, he would visit Moaning Myrtle. For some odd reason or another, she still greeted him with a high-pitched giggle and a kiss to each of his gaunt cheeks.

Other times, he would venture off to the kitchen, where the house elves aimed to please. He would sit in there, hours at a time, doing his work, taste testing new sweets the house elves concocted. Remaining in the kitchen became a win-win situation. They fed him while he studied.

Despite the few instances of kindness, he received anything but in the common room. Angry sneers and glowers shot his way from time to time and nothing else. There wasn’t any intention to prove himself, either. Not that he didn’t want to, but he hadn’t any idea where to start. No matter what, he’d be painted as a villain and the good that he did do disappeared with Harry Potter.

Suddenly, a wail disrupted the bothersome silence collected in the common room. The first two to stand were Weasley and Granger, followed by all of the Gryffindors who returned. Draco stood as well, pulled from his stupor. Rubbing his eyes with the heel of his left hand, he could more clearly see Ginevra Weasley clutching a Daily Prophet to her chest. Tears strew down her cheeks, relentless to fall. Stumbling towards Ronald, she shoved the paper into her older brother’s arms and collapsed at the feet of Granger. Obviously startled and sympathetic towards the seventh year, she crouched down, scooping the mess of a teenager into her arms.

“What does it say, Ron?” Granger asked, voice trembling.

Draco hadn’t realized it, but he was gripping onto the back of the chair he stumbled towards quite ferociously. Observing the freckle-faced man clutching the paper, Malfoy held his breath. Many thoughts shot through his mind, but they all fell on one person: Harry Potter.

Terror whiplashed itself across Weasley’s face. Dropping the Prophet, he sat down and buried his face in his hands, looking as if he would have to accept what the newspaper had told him.

Groping for the paper that fell out of Weasley’s hands, Granger fetched the Prophet and opened it, flashing the article that shot grief through both Ronald and Ginevra Weasley.

The Boy Who Lived, Found Dead?

A whir in Draco’s stomach surged a sense of nausea through him at the thought of Harry Potter found dead somewhere, and who knew where? Even his cronies hadn’t any idea where the boy had gone, and they had searched everywhere they could think of. He was to return to Hogwarts or start training as an Auror. When he hadn’t returned to do either, people grew worried.

Now, no one knew where he was and was presumed dead at this point.

But Harry Potter couldn’t be dead! He was the Boy Who Lived, after all. He wasn’t allowed to die, not yet.

Surprised and upset, Draco wiped the tears in his eyes away, not wanting to make a spectacle of himself.

“Oi, Malfoy, why are you crying?”

Too late.

Trying to withhold a sense of entitlement and dignity, he jutted his chin upward just slightly but allowed the tears to roll down his cheeks. “I’m merely sick of Potter playing hide and seek. We know he can’t be dead.”

“He’s dead, Malfoy!” Ginevra Weasley bawled but was hushed by Granger.

“According to the Prophet,” she said, folding the paper and setting it aside. For once, and without malice, Granger glanced his way. “Both you and I know that it is not entirely reliable.”

The inevitable wave of sorrow in the common room filtrated slightly.

“But we can’t listen to the wireless on school grounds!” Weasley unintentionally yelled, then shrunk when he caught himself. “Sorry, ‘Mione,” he said, voice cracking. “It’s just, you know…”

“Come on, now, you lot!” Seamus Finnigan said suddenly, standing from his chair. He thrust the bottle of firewhisky into Dean Thomas’ hand. “Think. We’re eighth years! We have full access to Hogsmeade before sunset!”

“Yeah, that’s right!” Thomas cheered, standing up next to his fellow Gryffindor. “Potterwatch!”

Potterwatch? That term was new to Malfoy, but he knew already that it had to be invented during the war while the trio was in hiding.

The dampness collected in the room began to dry as the morale lifted slightly.

“Who wants to come?! We just need to let McGonagall know and we’ll be on our way!” Finnigan said, a little too happily as he sauntered towards the exit of the common room.

In side conversation, Draco heard the younger Weasley ask her brother if she could come along, only to be denied for obvious reasons.

A rally of voices echoed through the common room, which disoriented the intoxicated Seamus.

“Okay, who is not coming?”

Only one hand stood in the air, and it was that of Gregory Goyle. Obviously surprised that he was the only one to raise his hand, his eyes finally landed on Draco.

“You’re not staying behind, Draco?” Goyle said with a rich amount of indignance. “It’s Potter!”

“And?” Draco cocked a brow, stepping towards the crowd gathering at the exit. “I’m tired of being an enemy. War is over. There are no longer sides to pick.” And if there were, he would pick Potter’s side on any given day.

Draco Malfoy did not want to be his parents, not any longer.

“What would your father say of this?” Goyle laughed, which only provoked Draco.

Cheeks flushing, the room falling silent as he inched closer to Goyle, Malfoy could feel rage course through his veins. “He’s in Azkaban. Besides that, I really don’t give a hippogriff’s arse about what my father would think. He’s a criminal that deserves to rot in prison.”

This surprised Draco himself, but after all of those years of attempting to live up to his father’s expectations, he discovered just how much he loathed the man. Not only was he a coward, but he was also a cheat. Draco knew he had to be accountable for his actions, and he didn’t want to conform to some rogue agenda that would kill others off. Draco finally knew who he was. Nothing like his father.

“Like you didn’t do anything, Saint Malfoy,” Goyle spat, stepping up, their puffed chests nearly brushing.

“I know I did wrong, Goyle! I am not innocent! I know that! But you know what?” Draco said sharply, leaning in. “I am not going to let my past skew my future. I asked for forgiveness. I may not receive it, but I made my peace. I don’t want to be a monster like my father.”

Turning on his heel, Draco found himself staring back at the forty-something eyes of the other eighth years and Ginevra Weasley. Surprise, shock, and confusion reflected back at him, and if he were in any one of their shoes, he’d certainly peer at himself the same way.

But enough of that, they had “Potterwatching” to do.

“So? Shall we ask the Headmistress if we can commence?” Draco looked at his fellow classmates, disregarding their blank stares and gaping mouths shot in his direction.

Stepping up, he headed straight to the exit until a sturdy hand wrapped around his twig of a bicep. Attempting to pull it from the person’s grasp, he turned around to face Weasley.

“What’s it to you, Malfoy?” he asked, flustered, blue eyes blazing intensely back at him. “What’s Harry’s status got to do with anything that pleases you? Why do you care?”

“I prefer to keep my intentions between me, myself, and I, Weasley. Now, if we could, let’s see if the Prophet holds any truth.”

For all Potterwatch knew, it didn’t and after that, no one ever questioned Draco’s motives. The team of eighth years, at least those who were interested, asked on the next several Saturdays at precisely two o’three if they could run into Hogsmeade to listen to Potterwatch. The Prophet, like several had detected, was nothing but a phoney. That didn’t ensure anyone that he was safe either. Now, all Potter was a guessing game, a myth, a legend. Despite the fact that Harry Potter disappeared just as fast as the war ceased and had to be long gone from the Wizarding World, Draco continued to find himself attending the weekly ritual of sitting around an old, dusty wireless, hoping, and almost praying for some sort of news on his existence to ricochet off the walls of Hog’s Head Inn.

As the weeks passed, no longer were only students attending Hog’s Head religiously, but the entire proffessor-body of Hogwarts and those who had permission into Hogsmeade. While Filch remained at the castle to watch those under third year, students streamed along, wanting to know where the Chosen One was and if he was, indeed, alive, but as those weeks came and went, the high morale settled into something of a limbo. Some, Draco included, maintained hope while others weren’t too sure if Potter could’ve done as much as move a finger without being noticed. Though true, Potter had that invisibility Cloak Draco had used against him in sixth year. Whilst those who doted on Potter lamented over him, he always remembered to bring it up.

“There’s no way he can still be alive,” little Weasley had moaned as they tuned out of a Potterwatch for the day the weekend the Hogwarts students were to return for their studies. It was a nippy, frozen afternoon with an overcast sky and loads of snow blanketing the ground. Whilst the most logical of the Hogwarts students remained in the castle, the Weasleys, Granger, Malfoy, and the oaf of a Gamekeeper meandered into Hogsmeade, finding themselves in the Inn. Aberforth Dumbledore, though busy, had tuned in with them, and said his peace already: “The Prophet’s calling it suicide, but he has a head on his shoulders. He’s smart. If he were dead, they would’ve found him already.”

At first, Draco agreed with this statement. If the world-famed Harry Potter was, indeed, dead, they would’ve found him somewhere, someplace, keeled off. But then again—and this was when Draco grew nervous—what if he was killed, only to be covered by his own protection: the Cloak?

Malfoy didn’t know he was displaying any sign of conflict until he was nudged by Ronald Weasley.

“What, Malfoy?”

The last few weeks proved themselves to be monumental, as the eighth years actually began to hold simple conversation with him. Though he wasn’t on a first name basis with anyone quite yet, he was acknowledged and accepted as an individual for once, and the compliments were enjoyable. Hogwarts felt less and less like a prison and more like a home, which was a new and enticing feeling evoked while thinking of his school. Never quite feeling accepted because of his parents, Draco finally had a taste of freedom and it was there, in the walls of his very confinement.

Some days, Draco would browse the libraries and study with Granger. Others, he would visit the pitch and play some Quidditch with little Weasley. She was a helluva Seeker, but nothing compared to Potter.

Ronald Weasley, however, was notorious for grudges. No one had any idea when he’d come around, and Draco didn’t expect him to. He didn’t need to be forgiven, though his hand was out if Weasley ever wanted to shake it.

However, in times of crisis, such as now, all grudges were set aside and anyone who attended the Potterwatches was treated as a friend.

“What if...What if Potter was covered with the Cloak? What if he did die and was covered by the Invisibility Cloak?” Draco said, voice deceiving him with a crack. “What if Potter’s dead?”

Little Weasley paled at the mere mention, despite always groaning over his possible demise. “W-what if…”

“That is always a possibility,” Aberforth said, looking downcast at Draco’s revelation, “but we don’t know. As far as we know, he’s simply blending in with muggles at this point.”

The lot left Hog’s Head Inn that day, feeling as gloomy as the wintery day before them.

The powdery poof of snow that accumulated over the winter began to melt away as buds began to blossom. Spring brought a plethora of hope, promising chances of crystal-clear skies and bright, sunny days.

A perfect evening presented itself to the quartet of the newly acclaimed “Potterheads”. A slight breeze rolled through the courtyard as they wandered towards the newly erected rose garden herbology students have been magically accumulating. Red roses were to bloom any time of year with special enchantments and were closed off to everyone but eighth years and the students creating the garden.

Although Ginny technically was not allowed in the garden, the four Potterheads ventured to the garden every day to discuss their shared favourite subject: The Boy Who Lived. Ever since the garden was put in place, the Weasleys, Granger, and Malfoy would recollect every night, discussing ways they could try and find Potter themselves. When Potterwatch failed them, when Aberforth said that Potter would’ve been found by now, when Hagrid stopped visiting Hog’s Head altogether, the four of them decided that desperate times called for desperate measures. At that moment, only the four of them still sought the truth, but that would change if any of them could help it.

“Remind me again, Malfoy, why you’re even here,” Weasley said when Draco sat in the circle they formed on that particular evening. Granger, attached to her red-headed git of a boyfriend, held a piece of aged parchment, practically inked from end to end. At first glance, Draco thought it to be homework, but upon further inspection, the writing was far too infrequent for it to be anything for her required classes. (From what he’d learned about her, she wanted to work for the ministry—of course she wanted to.) Little Weasley sat, dejected and on her own, knees hugged tightly to her chest. Malfoy ignored this and turned to her brother. He went to open his mouth, but before he could answer, Granger spoke for him.

“Can’t you tell that Draco loves him?” she said, everyone but her freezing at the statement. Straightening her posture slightly, she looked around, surprised, continuing, “What? Has no one noticed how he looks when anyone mentions Harry’s name?”

Draco’s brow furrowed. Was he really that bad at disguising his inner monologue?

“Please tell me she’s joking, Malfoy,” Weasley groaned, taking his girlfriend’s hand into his. “Please don’t like my best mate—”

“And my boyfriend!” Ginny whimpered, jealousy sharpening the blow of her words.

Draco shrunk slightly at the angry siblings as they berated his affections towards Potter. He never asked to be interested in blokes, or that one in particular. Everyone knew Harry Potter wouldn’t go after a former Death Eater, after all, or a boy for that matter. Draco called it wishful thinking.

After a moment of sitting there, staring around at the two gawking faces that peered back at him, he said, shifting slightly in his seat, “It’s not like anything would come from it. First off, he’s probably dead somewhere and who would love a Death Eater?” Tugging his robes around his slender body, his eyes diverted to the grass-clad dirt. He carded his fingers through the green blades, not wanting to speak any further of this...crush he developed on Potter. Like he said, nothing would ever come of it, and it was stupid for him to have a crush on that bloke anyway. Though their perspectives no longer opposed, necessarily, his parents’ did.

Then again, he stopped caring about what they thought months ago.

Still.

“Former Death Eater, Draco. That much is clear,” Granger said, breaking the moment of silence.

And for some reason, white heat coursed itself right through Draco’s body. Brow furrowed, bottom lip jutted out, his attention turned to her. “Why, out of all people, have you forgiven me?” Without much thought, he thrust himself from the ground. “I’ve hexed you, I’ve thrown several slurs in your direction...I...I almost killed Dumbledore and you forgive me first out of every one of the eighth years?!” At this, Draco began to pace, wringing his hands together anxiously, insecurely.

How could such deplorable sins be forgiven by a Muggle-born, his main victim? How could Hermione Granger ever forgive such terrible actions?

“Draco!” Granger screamed, snapping him out of his dread-ridden thoughts. From what was evident, Granger must’ve been beckoning him for quite some time. Standing, fists balled at his side, she stared at him with an intimidating amount of intensity.

Hoping he didn’t appear too ruffled, he smoothed at his robes and crossed his arms, jutting his chin up as he typically did. “Granger.”

With a disdainful look, she said, “That’s who you used to be. It’s clear that you’ve changed…” Sighing heftily, she took a seat. “Now, sit down. We have actual business to attend to.”

Draco sat without argument, smoothing his robes out against the grass so it fell in a graceful way. Then, he turned his eyes upward towards his counterparts. “Is that a list, Granger?” He nodded towards the parchment now on the ground with his chin.

“Yes, actually,” she replied, holding it out for the Slytherin to take. Snatching it, he gazed over the signatures as she said, “those are the people who want us to find out where in the world Harry is.”

Several slanted signatures glared back at him, including Longbottom’s, Lovegood’s, and everyone, as far as he knew, was once in Dumbledore’s army. No professors were listed; this militia was entirely student-made.

“Are you going to sign this, Malfoy?” Weasley asked, nudging an inked quill towards him.

“Of course, am I not a part of the Potterhead committee?” Draco said indignantly, grabbing the quill with haste. He signed with a large, scripted hand and handed the quill and parchment to Granger. “Now, is this all?”

Without a word, the parchment was passed to Little Weasley, who took out her wand and tapped it against the signature page. For just a second, the paper shimmered, golden flecks radiating off the ambient light of the garden’s torches.

“Just a jinx. Makes sure no one can betray the others without consequence,” the Weasley sister informed her, placing her wand back in its pocket.

Not that Draco didn’t expect it, but there always came disappointment with not being trustworthy. “Is it the same jinx Miss Granger used on Marietta Edgecombe? Bit juvenile if you ask me,” Draco noted.

“Far worse, trust me,” Little Weasley replied darkly, handing the parchment to Granger. “You wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of this jinx.”

Understood, Draco thought.

“One more thing before we dismiss,” Granger said suddenly, catching him mid-stand. Taking a seat, he propped his chin in the palm of his hand.

“And that is?”

The muggle-born pulled out a Galleon, handing it to Draco first. “Faux Galleons. Protean charm, as you know.”

Turning the coin in his hand, Malfoy let out a low whistle. He never thought he’d use something connected to that certain charm again. “Why don’t we just gather? No one would stop us.”

“Makes things easier,” Hermione said plainly, standing. “I’ll let you know now that our first meeting is on Saturday, two-thirty.”

The meetings were as frequent as the Potterwatches. Every Saturday at two-thirty, one hundred an forty-two Hogwarts students of all Houses—Slytherins, not including Malfoy, included—meandered to the Room of Requirement to find themselves in a type of Potterwatch Headquarters. While some students brainstormed places to search, others plotted places already explored. Many kept in touch with those who had thought to see Potter and they had their outside sources as well, including Lee Jordan and George Weasley of the radio programme. Potterwatch had become a very sturdy system, Granger, Malfoy, and Weasley all at the head.

The next big project coursing through the Headquarters consisted of hefty, well thought out plans and possibly dangerous ventures. The Hogwarts students wanted to do the unthinkable: set out to a location in a different part of the British Isles. London, England to be exact. Several thought it would be a good place to look around. But Draco, Draco highly doubted that Potter—though thick at times—would be idiotic enough to find himself in the same Muggle city that hosted both Diagon Alley and the Ministry of Magic.

“It hasn’t been pinned off,” Ginny argued, gesturing to the map they had hung up on an empty wall in the room. While standing, other students sat in chairs in quasi-rooms, searching through Prophet articles, sorting through dates and places Potter was “spotted” or searched for. The two had been at it for a while, deciding whether checking London would be wise.

“Yes, but Potter isn’t a buffoon. He would’ve been spotted if he’s been in London this whole time, Muggle or otherwise,” Draco said shortly, placing a pin—a muggle invention—over London. “Case Closed.”

In retaliation, Ginevra Weasley tore the pin from the map. “No!”

“Put. It. Back.” Draco went to grab the pin from her, but before a squabble erupted, the elder Weasley took it and glared from his sister to Malfoy.

“We cannot mark it, but I think you’re onto something, Malfoy.” Handing the pin to Granger, who came up behind her boyfriend, he found Hogsmeade and pointed to the mountainous terrain surrounding the quaint village. “What do you think, ‘Mione?”

For a moment, her face scrunched up, brow furrowed and unsure until her eyes scanned over its surroundings. Like an epiphany rolled through her entire body and shoved her into motion, she jolted towards the map and circled Hogsmeade and the terrain surrounding it several times with something she introduced as a red marker—another muggle invention.

“Brilliant! That has to be it, Ron! It’s where Sirius camped in fourth year!” Capping the marker, Granger turned to Weasley and pressed a sickly-sweet kiss to his cheek. “Good eye.”

“That’s rather close,” Longbottom said suddenly. Draco turned slightly to find him standing awfully close. The git in Draco attempted to coerce him into shoving Longbottom away, but he refrained, maintaining his poise. Turning back to the map, he scanned the area to be searched.

“So,” he said, eye falling on the thick of the jagged lines imposed as “mountains”, “you think he is in the mountains somewhere.”

“One place in particular,” Granger explained, marking a particular region inside her vast circle. “A cave. I remember exactly where it is, too…” Almost bemused, she heaved a sigh and ran her fingers over the mark. “We’ll find you, Harry. We’ll find you.”

A hush rolled over the students. Nothing but the sound of the grandfather clock the room oddly provided ticked for the first time since Potterwatch at Hogwarts banded, and as it did, its face began to mutate.

“What in the—”

“Ron,” Granger said, “it looks like the clock at the Burrow.”

Gawking, Weasley walked up to the clock and ran his finger along the only hand on the face. “Almost just like it,” he confirmed. “It’s on travelling.”

“I didn’t think about it,” Granger said, a smile remaining on her face as she turned to the Weaslette. “Ginny?”

“I did… I’m surprised,” she said, eyeing the clock in amazement.

“Why? The Room of Requirement provides you with what you need, does it not?” Draco asked, walking up behind Weasley with his arms firmly crossed over his chest. Standing beside him, he gazed at the face of the clock. Intricate, yet plain to see, the lightning bolt-shaped hand with Harry’s scripted name carved into it rested on travelling.

“Ooh, how peculiar,” a new, but familiar voice dreamily gasped from the other side of Weasley. Loony Lovegood stepped into view, running her finger over the hand. “Where is home for Harry, you suppose?”

“Just something else we need to figure out, I guess,” Weasley replied, clapping his hand on the girl’s shoulder. “As for now, I think we should check the cave. He’s still alive, I think. Fred’s hand fell off after a while...Dad found it a couple of weeks ago, so if it runs the same way ours does—”

“Harry’s alive,” Draco said more to himself, but out loud. Warmth filled him with the thoughts, as the vivid daydreams of Potter being found, safe and out of harm’s way. Of course, he’d be peaky, as he always was at the start of the year, but he would be there, with them, and alive, so, so alive.

“You really care about him, don’cha?” Seamus Finnigan said from across the room. Silence engulfed the entire room, every last ear ready to hear the answer, to hear the former Death Eater’s position, why he was actually there, if you will.

Turning towards the sound of the Scottish man’s voice, Draco, for once, let those cold, steely walls of his collapse at his feet. Everything in this room was in confidence, after all.

“Yes, I do care about him,” Draco replied, voice cracking just enough to make him sound pathetic, but what was new?

“But you were a—”

“I know what I was,” Draco roared, shaking slightly. His hands found his way to his wand and began to wring it, trying to keep his sudden flare up at bay. “No need of reminding me of my regrettable mistakes!”

A gentle hand caressed Draco’s shoulder, motherly in its warmth and grip. He turned to look right into the vibrant eyes of Ginny Weasley, and for the first time ever, he felt that they could see eye to eye.

“Sit down,” she said, still rubbing his shoulder, “and I’ll get you a cup of tea.”

The table in the middle of the expansive room was occupied with those who searched for dates and places, and once the true six ringleaders of the operation approached the table, linked together in one way or another through touch, the students dispersed, allowing them to take a seat. Ginny sat next to Draco, holding a steaming cup of tea out for him to drink, and he gratefully took it, muttering a, “Thank you.”

“Now that we have a location,” Granger said, tapping the tips of her fingers together as she thought, “I say we go and search. We’re allowed out, the eighth years—sorry Luna, Ginny—and we can go searching—”

“I’m going to go and look for Harry,” Ginny spoke vivaciously, staring Granger down with her fists in a clutch. “Besides, Draco can’t even go! Parole, remember? He can’t go past Hogsmeade!”

“I’m going,” Draco said himself, an ample amount of stubbornness in his voice. “I can't just sit back again. That’s all I ever do.”

“You could go to Azkaban, Draco,” Granger said, brow furrowing in concern as their gaze met. “He might not even be there and if you get caught—”

“Disillusionment charm, Granger. It’s not quite Potter’s magic Cloak, but if we keep to the shadows, I can sneak right past,” Draco said, determined. “Please, let me do something good.”

The entire table-full of people sighed.

“Say, what all comes with your parole?” Dean Thomas asked, leaning against the back of Longbottom’s chair. Finnigan plopped next to him, behind Granger.

“No magic outside of Hogwarts, no Defence Against Dark Arts—figured I might ‘gather some ideas’—completion of eighth year, O’s and E’s on my NEWT’s—more of my parents’ bidding—always being accompanied by an adult—which I believe every single one of the people on this mission are—I could inform you of all of the ins and outs of my probation, but I would rather not waste my breath for a nosy few.”

“We needed to know whether your risks are worth it and I think, with reason, one would understand if you snuck out with us. Maybe lose a few house points, a rather severe scolding, and we’d be on our way,” Granger said reasonably, surprising him with a congenial smile.

“When are we going?” Ginny asked, still plainly terse from the way her shoulders drew upwards.

“Wouldn’t today be as good as any other day?” Longbottom suggested, eyeing around for feedback.

“Might as well,” Weasley replied looking at Granger.

For a moment, she thought. Brows knit, she tapped her fingers together, nodding. “We’d have to leave right now.”

“Fine by me! Let’s go!” Ginny said, and stood up, jerking Draco upwards as well.

“Hold on, Ginny! We can’t leave just yet,” Ron stated, but stood up as well.

“Why can’t we?” Finnigan asked, which earned him a nudge in the ribs from his friend hanging off the other chair.

“We’re not going, are you barmy? Someone has to keep an eye on the clock,” Thomas said, nodding towards the clock. “Ginny is going whether Ron likes it or not and Luna, well….” Gesturing towards her, it was obvious that she was in another world. Eyes scanning the ceiling, she looked around, somewhat bobble-headed.

However, she glanced in the boys’ direction and smiled. “What about me?”

“Nevermind,” Thomas said, turning his eyes towards the ground.

“The key is to not look suspicious, Draco,” Granger spoke, nudging one of the boys off of the back of her chair. Standing, she allowed Finnigan to take a seat before she began to pace, and suddenly, a whiteboard appeared. With that red marker still in hand, she wrote:

Agenda

“Planning never gets us anywhere, plus you just said we could leave now,” Weasley said, taking the marker from her clutch. “Might as well leave and return before nightfall.”

For a moment, an argumentative stance flared within the woman. Puffing her chest slightly, she seemed ready to fight, but as soon as Weasley cocked his head and rose a brow, she backed off. Everyone knew the two bickered; it was Draco’s first time to witness Granger back away from a squabble.

“Okay, fine. I just thought—”

“I know, you want to be thorough,” he simpered, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“On our way, then?” Draco asked, wrapping the newly thought of cloak around himself. “The sooner we search, the sooner we’ll confirm or deny his residence in that hell-hole the lot of you assume he’s located at.”

“It’s not a hell-hole,” Granger argued.

“Well, you’d think he’d have a little more dignity,” the Slytherin assumed out loud, sipping the tea Ginny produced for him.

“He’s in hiding.” Granger shot him a worn glare before pulling out her wand. “We better be on our way.”

With that, the elite team of five—Luna remained in the Room of Requirement—departed.

“How far up the mountain did you say this was again?” Draco asked, growing tired from walking so much, especially since he couldn’t properly see himself. At least thrice he ran into Granger, merely because he could just barely see the outline of his body that camouflaged against the greenery of the mountainside.

“You asked two minutes ago, Draco, and the answer is still ‘I don’t know’. Be patient,” Granger groaned, tromping on the first path they found, used by what seemed like animals.

Just before Draco could throw an arrogant retort in her direction, the lot stopped in front of an indent in the side of the mountain. A lopsided smile embraced Weasley, whilst Granger bounced on her toes. They were obviously in front of the place they needed to be, but weren’t doing much other than ogling the site. Growing tired of standing behind an overexcitable crowd, Malfoy walked around the lot and straight into the cavern….

Where he found nothing.

Just a dim light found its way into the cave which could support a few larger animals, and absolutely nothing was there. The floor barren, Draco found nothing of importance. But as the others spilt in, they began to investigate the walls.

Granger was the first to find something.

“Look here!” she said, waving the others over. Draco moved among them, peering at a few drawings, obviously Potter’s. They were fresh on the stone, and markings of things no one else would draw: an owl and a lightning bolt. Both appeared to be ingrained with wandwork, which hadn’t been weathered down. Though he wasn’t an expert at this sort of thing, he couldn’t deny that it was less than a month old.

“The prat’s been in Hogsmeade, probably laughing at our misery!” Draco gasped, rushing up to run his hands over the stone. “He’s been here!”

A hushed sound of whispering emerged from the other four as Draco desperately groped at the stone, feeling its indent, feeling for any sort of warmth or life. Harry Potter had been there, a month or less ago. Where could he be now?

“Let’s go to Hog’s Head,” Ginny said after a moment, gripping Draco’s bicep. “We can discuss it with Aberforth, maybe he’d gather an idea of where he’d be.”

So the five of them ambled down the mountain and towards Hog’s Head Inn. By the time they approached the heart of Hogsmeade, Draco was no longer invisible. Not that anyone took much notice: he was allowed to remain within the boundaries of the village.

With the tinkling of bells, the front door of Hog’s Head burst open and the young adults filled with a newfound amount of vigour rushed in. Longbottom smiled sloppily, arm around Weasley, who held Hermione close. To them, it was a minuscule victory, something that could let them keep a close eye on the cave. Every day, Granger would check for any sign of life. They believed they were on to something.

But Draco, on the other hand, couldn’t quite believe that he would stay when he’d so easily be sought out.

“Mr Dumbledore!” Ginny gasped, rushing towards the Innkeeper behind the bar who was washing his butterbeer mugs.

“Aren’t you supposed to remain at Hogwarts, Miss Ginevra?” he asked, giving her a patronizing look. Then, his surly cornflower eyes shot in Draco’s direction. “What about your parole, boy?”

“We found where Harry was hiding out, Aberforth. They were only helping!” Longbottom added, which seemed to resonate with the old man. He softened, setting the glass mug aside.

“Let me guess: the same cave Sirius used as a hideout?” Aberforth said.

Weasley looked alarmed. “How did you—”

“I just do,” he answered, continuing with cleaning the mugs.

“Why?” Granger asked in a polite tone, leaning against the wood of the bar. “Did you know he was hiding out there?”

“I would think him a fool if he actually did. Maybe he did stay there. Maybe he knew you were wanting to find him. It happens that people who try to hide never want to be found. Now—”

A sudden thump from upstairs startled everyone, all nearly jumping out of their skin. Dumbledore, however, looked the most startled.

“What was that?” Ginny asked, clearly uneasy by the way she hugged herself in a sense of security.

“I hadn’t checked a room out to anyone—”

“Harry!” Granger cheered, then threw herself towards the stairwell, bolting up each step with increasing speed.

Weasley followed in tow, then Ginny, then Longbottom. Draco was last in line, other than Aberforth, who simply stumbled slowly behind them.

Granger flung open every door, finding nothing until she reached the last. She took a minute to compose herself, an inane smile on her face, but the minute she pushed the door open, the delighted visage slipped into a look of absolute terror. Before she realized it, she let out a scream so loud, the Inn practically shook with her sound waves.

Shocked, Weasley peered in, only to yell, “No!” just as loud if not louder than Granger. He ran in immediately, while Granger remained behind, slipping slowly down the painted room door. Ginny couldn’t look in. She hid in Longbottom.

And Draco…he stood frozen, too shocked to take anything in.

This much was obvious: Harry was in that room, dead. He had to be.

Walking towards the open door very slowly, Draco looked in to see a bloodied figure splayed across the floor. Dead, clearly, and with that mess of curled, raven-black hair. Glasses broken and on the other side of the room, the entire area was a mess, but a beautiful snow-white bird perched itself on Harry’s back, hooting quietly, sadly.

Finally, Draco took in what had really happened.

Harry Potter, the boy he loved so much, was dead, forever lost.

They said it was a suicide. He was cremated only a few minutes after he was pronounced dead, which took the Healers only a few minutes to confirm. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived was, indeed, found dead and lost in his mind. All the glory that came with the title had a cost.

And Draco thought he had it hard.

All through the year, he thought that having the world against him was so terrible, but really, when he thought about it, several people were on his side.

Granger, Weasley, Ginny, his parents. They were all alive, all well, all wanting him to prosper.

Not that Harry Potter didn’t have those people in his life, but several more died in his name.

Guilt, Draco guessed, lead him to a permanent state of dread that could only be cured with Death’s sweet kiss.

Draco didn’t want to romanticize anything so painful; no one could take the severity of the Boy Who Lived’s death lightly. The entire school was a wreck. Several little wizards and witches lost a hero. The Weasleys practically lost another son. And Draco, though it would always be unrequited, lost his first and only love.

A memorial for Harry Potter was approaching, and everyone was holding onto each other much tighter than ever. Just the other day, Ginny spent a good hour clinging to Draco, crying those dull but beautiful eyes out. She wasn’t the only one, he cried with her, and without her.

He no longer recognized what it was like not to cry. Tears were always in his eyes, spattered on his cheeks, drenching his uniform collar. He didn’t care what others thought.

Yes, he was crying about Potter.

No, he didn’t hate him.

Yes, if he could bring him back, he would.

And it was driving Draco mental, knowing that there wasn’t any way to bring him back. He was long gone by now, cremated and buried along with his parents.

If only he could’ve begun to experiment, to create some sort of potion that brought back the dead. Though Death was unbeatable, he would’ve done anything to best it, to spit in the face of such a cruel being. But there wasn’t any need, there wouldn’t be any need. Not any longer.

It was a cool, rainy day at Hogwarts, wind rolling through the lush courtyards and gardens of the grounds. A single paper flew through the air, spinning, falling, landing at the feet of Draco Malfoy, who was watching a statue of Harry being erected in the rose garden.  He was just behind the bushes, seeing that silver boy sparkling in the sun that just barely peeked out from the dense thunderclouds, but the paper caught his attention. Reaching down, he took claim of the sodden newspaper and found that it was a Prophet. The head article said:

The Scandalous Life of Harry Potter: What He Didn’t Want You to Know

Rage struck him through like lightning, his heart pounding angrily against his ribcage. Who could sully Harry Potter’s name like that, especially after finding him in such a way?! How dare they?!

Too angry to look at the words written on the front page, Draco wadded it up and threw it as far as he could, a choked out sob emitting from him with the throw. Knees buckling, suddenly weakening, Draco collapsed, helpless in any attempt to get up.

So, he lay there, sobbing until someone noticed his drenched, robe-clad figure lumped in the grass.

Gently, the person tugged on his arm and upon rolling onto his back, he looked into the eyes of Ginny.

Though red and puffy, those bright umber eyes of hers stared into his. Slowly, she crouched by his side, sniffing. “The article?”

“How dare they do that to him?!” Draco seethed, tears returning to his steely eyes. “The audacity!”

“If it makes you feel any better, Skeeter got sacked for writing it and the editor is apologizing profusely…”

“That’s not enough!” Draco boomed, standing up suddenly. “They can’t do that...t-they can’t—”

“Shh,” Ginny said, standing, pulling the taller boy into her arms. Propping her chin on his shoulder, she heaved an exhausted sigh. “Those who know realize that Harry was one of the best Wizards who ever lived.”

Shaking, crying, Draco nodded, burying his tearstained face into the mess of ginger hair.

For a while, they stood, embracing each other with the utmost intimacy a friendship could provide. She forgave him, all the Potterheads had, but a question burning a hole in Draco’s mind demanded to be asked.

“Ginny?” Draco said, breaking the silence.

She looked up, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. “Yes?”

“D-do you think Harry would ever forgive me if he hadn’t died?” The question set Draco in another set of hysterics; he nearly crumbled in Ginny’s grip. “I was such a terrible person, Ginny! How could anyone forgive a filthy Death Eater like me? How could anyone ever risk being seen around me? I should’ve died! Not him! Not Harry!”

Grief pulsed from Draco, drawing attention to himself unintentionally. Those in the outdoor corridors began to pool around the pillars, looking into the garden.

“Oh, Merlin! I should’ve died! I should’ve been the one!”

“Mr Malfoy?” A concerned voice from far off called, but he was too far away, too caught up in his dread to focus on anyone or thing.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Ginny said in a strained voice. “He’s grieving, but he’s speaking nonsense.”

“We’ll take him to the hospital wing, get his head on straight,” the voice said.

Pale blue was not supposed to be dull, but as thousands crowded the Great Hall, Draco wanted to do nothing but stare at the enchanted ceiling. It was a week after the mishap in the garden, and though the potions kept his hysterics at bay, it didn’t stop the brutal attack from making an impact on him. What was once a boy with a hope to find the emerald-eyed saviour of the Wizarding World, became one with a deteriorating heart and a bleak mind. Everything was dull, boring, useless. He thought sixth year was a dark time. Nothing compared to how his beating heart felt like it broke with each pulse. Nothing compared to waking up with nothing to look forward to. Draco was forlorn, heartbroken, and sick.

The room was moist with the tears of Potter’s thousands of followers. The grounds of Hogwarts were jam-packed with people who didn’t even know him, but admired what he’d done.

Everyone acted like a personal friend, like they had known him all his life. They hadn’t, and not that Draco did either, but he knew far more than they did.

It was all too much, hearing everyone chatter about Harry’s life, spewing factoids, discussing his legacy cut short. Draco needed an out, so he shoved himself out of his chair and attempted to search for a way to depart, but before he could step even a centimetre away from his chair, Luna’s hand found its way around his left wrist.

“It’s about to begin, Draco. Don’t you want to be here?” she asked lightly but clearly worried.

“I can’t,” he said, bloodshot eyes turning to the podium prepared for the memorial. “I can’t.”

Luna nodded, withdrawing her grasp from his wrist. “Be safe, Draco.”

People parted as he walked right through, but with all the congestion, it took Draco a fair amount of time to escape the castle. The halls and courtyards were stuffed to the brim as well, but one place that remained vacant was the gardens. Draco supposed that McGonagall didn’t want Harry’s memorial to be trampled and placed a shield charm on the location. However, he stepped in with the slightest of ease and found himself at the feet of the life-sized statue of Harry Potter.

Everything about it was surprisingly accurate. From the arrogant but lovable stance to the glint of mischief in his eyes, the sculpture simply looked like a silver-covered version of the man.

If only.

Draco ran a hand along the bottom of the trousers of the sculpture, murmuring, “I know you would never believe me, but I miss seeing you in class. I used to look over and notice you, being the repulsive git you were, chewing on the top of your bloody quills.”

Laughing at the memory, he sat down and continued, “Also, I think you always struggled with holding a quill. You were used to your muggle devices, weren’t you?”

Fingers tracing over the gold plaque on the platform of the statue, he smiled, looking up at the face of silver. “You were an amazing person. I’m sorry the horrors of war were too much for you…” A few tears slipped down his cheeks. “They’re beginning to become too much for me, too…”

As he cried, a familiar Snowy Owl soared into view. No note was attached to it, as it hovered towards Draco. He stuck his arm out as a landing and it perched there, very gently.

Eyes turning back to the statue, he commenced with his soliloquy. “You know, the minute I knew I loved you was when you collapsed over my bleeding body. You regretted it, I could tell, and you panicked, groping desperately for a way to keep me from dying. I knew then. I knew then that if I died, it would be enough to die in your arms but I didn’t. And when the snatchers brought you to my house…”

Draco gasped, trying to keep himself from breaking into sobs. “I couldn’t let them touch you. I could never let them kill you. I’m sorry you’re not here. These are the words I didn’t say when you were alive, but I should’ve. I bloody should’ve.”

Finally, he allowed himself to openly sob, and as he did, the owl departed from his arm.

Draco didn’t notice, but someone was watching.

Gently, they grasped his shoulder and Draco froze, kicking himself for being caught. He should’ve never admitted something so private in such a public area, but he had.

So, he braced himself, turning around to face a presumably dead man.  

Harry James Potter stood right in front of him, a sheepish smile on his face. His eyes turned to the statue, gazing over his silver imposter. “They did a really good job on that.”

Dumbfounded, Draco gawked at the man in front of him. He was barely recognizable, hidden behind long hair and a thick beard, but the blazing eyes and lightning scar were enough to chart him as Harry Potter.

“Y-You’re dead. I…” Was Draco going mad?

“Oh, no. I’m not,” Harry said, grasping Draco’s wrists. “That...was a friend of mine. I’d been following him around…terminally ill, coughing up blood. He was going to die, so he agreed to let me use Polyjuice on him. My secret would die with him, as would my identity. You’re the only one who knows I’m alive.”

“You’re absolutely mental,” Draco whispered, reaching out to touch Harry. He ran a hand across Harry’s face, fingers analyzing the scar on his forehead. “Why in Merlin’s beard would you do that?”

Was Draco dreaming?

With this, Harry became a bit uncomfortable. Eyes turning to the brilliant green grass in the garden, he said, “It would be better if the world thought I was dead.”

How could he think that? So many people depended on him, worshipped him, looked to be just like him. How could he just say that?

“No, it wouldn’t!” Draco snapped, anger flaring in his silver eyes. “Why would you say that?!”

“I…” Harry took a deep breath, as if he was counting to ten. “I found out… The Boy Who Lived… I can’t die.”

Draco cocked a brow. “Wait, you mean—”

“I’m immortal.”

“And you don’t want that?” Draco whispered, stepping closer.

“Of course I don’t!” Harry retorted. “If I stay, I watch everyone I love die. If I live apart, if I’m not ‘alive’, I’m not actively sought out and found and showered with affection.”

“You want to be miserable,” Draco said, crossing his arms.

“I mean, you’re not wrong. I have to live as a bloody owl for the rest of my life,” he replied.

Draco thought about it, about the situation in front of him. Harry Potter was alive and immortal.

Immortality.

“How...how did this happen?” Draco asked, hugging Harry all of a sudden, filled with utter relief. Potter was hesitant at first, twitching in the boy’s arms, but caved and hugged Draco.

“I killed Voldemort and sacrificed my own death.” Harry sighed. “I did what I had to do...and I do  forgive you, Draco.”

Draco froze. “You heard..?”

“I’ve been acting as a second year’s owl for a while now.”

“But how?” Draco asked. “How could you forgive someone like me? I’m a bad person, Harry. I—”

“What do you think about your role in the war?” Harry asked, which hardly seemed to correlate with the subject. Through squinted eyes, Draco looked at Harry, saying, “I regretted everything I did to hurt—”

“Bad people don’t know how to regret, but good people who made terrible decisions do,” Harry said, cupping Draco’s pale, gaunt cheek.

“I almost killed Dumbledore, I’ve tortured countless people, I allowed people to get hurt, killed! I—”

“Draco,” Harry said, which silenced the boy. “You notice you’ve done something wrong. It torments you. You’re going to have to forgive yourself too. That’s the second step to redemption...if you could call it that, I guess.”

“And what’s the first?” Draco hadn’t realized, but he was entirely flushed. Cheeks red, eyes trained on Harry, who had those stubby hands on his face, he stared at the Boy Who Lived in amazement.

He felt so solid, so real, so alive and tangible.

“Knowing your faults,” he said. And then, he lessened the space between them, inching closer. “Draco?”

“Harry?” Draco whispered.

“I’ve been watching you—not just you, everyone that’s been looking for me—and I can just say that seeing you develop as your own person, well, has shown me who you really are and what intentions you have.” Gently, his free hand carded the silvery-blond strands of Draco’s hair out of his face.

“I’m not my parents,” he replied, voice rasping.

“Exactly. And, may I say, I think I’m attracted to the man you really are.” Harry smiled, genuinely, and rested his forehead on Draco’s. “I like you, and you love me. I think, if we can try, we can make something of this.”

“But Harry,” Draco whispered, dizzy and hypnotized by Potter’s mere touch, “I’ll die. I’ll have to be a vampire or something. I—”

Harry’s laughter dismissed him. “We’ll make it work. Vampire or not, we’ll make it work.” And then, Harry’s lips found Draco’s. For a split second, the world spun under his feet, the moment too surreal for it to be possible. But he opened his eyes and he stared right back at himself in the reflection of Harry’s glasses. This was happening, he was actually kissing Harry sodding Potter.

He dipped into the kiss, but before anything further could commence, Harry withdrew, looking around madly. “I heard something…I have to go.”

But before Harry could scamper off, Draco clutched his wrist. “So spontaneous...will you ever come back?”

“I’m here every day, you’ll just have to find me in the Owlery.” Smiling, he stepped back and transfigured into his animagus, that beautiful Snowy Owl, and took off, heading straight to his tower.

Draco noted a peculiarity in Potter’s animagus that mirrored his human self. A familiar lighting scar struck through his forehead, stark against his white feathering.

Draco watched Harry disappear, and as soon as he did, a bittersweet smile graced his lips. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.

He would live forever.

Too bad the confrontation didn’t last longer, too bad he couldn’t ask any questions, but they kissed, they kissed! Absentmindedly, Draco ran his fingers along his chapped lips. Was this a chase? Did Draco have to find him?

He was right in the tower, he wasn’t too far.

Harry Potter was under their noses the whole time….

Satisfied, he turned towards the exit and found Ginny standing there, confused and tear stained. She didn’t know.

“Draco?” she said, wiping the large tears from her cheeks. He hadn’t any idea how far along the memorial was, but she was clearly shaken.

The man simply walked over,  hugging his younger friend, saying, “Everything will be okay.”

“How do you know?” she whimpered.

Draco’s eyes fluttered to the Owlery tower, seeing a white speck perched on the edge of the arch owls flew from. Harry’d always be watching.

“I just do.”

[snortinglaughter]

'Stupid Malfoy and his stupid single-eyebrow-raising talent'.

Harry was in front of the mirror trying to sneer and lift his right brow just like Malfoy did but wasn’t getting far at all, he only managed to lift both looking like a dazzled deer. Was it, like, a special thing you were born with?

“Whatcha doing, mate?”

Harry almost jumped to the roof like a scared cat.

“Bloody hell, Ron. I almost shat in my pants. Fucking knock, will you?” His face felt so hot you could fry an egg on it.

Read more on Ao3

"Um. Well, you know how Malfoy raises an eyebrow when he’s busy being an arse? I want to do that so, I was, you know, er… kinda practicing?”

“Are you seriously telling me you’ve been in the bathroom for nearly an hour trying to lift an eyebrow?”

“Well he's always giving me those stupid snooty looks and I just stand there looking like Grawp being nagged by Hermione so I want to give him a taste of his own medicine."

If Harry thought Ron would at least try to suppress a laugh he was absolutely wrong. The red-head collapsed to the floor laughing so hard Harry feared his friend had lost the plot.

“Oh shut up, you wanker!”

“Ohmigod, Harry just shag him already. Or let him shag you, whatever sizzles your bacon.”

"Wha- No!" Harry winced. He was having serious doubts about this friendship.

* * *

Harry was sitting on a bench in the trainees’s locker room. He spent three hours in front of the mirror yesterday and only managed to wiggle both his eyebrows, which had him in a bad mood today. That and all the sexual frustration he’d been dealing with. One would think that being The Twat Who Lived would grant him at least a weekly shag, but the few times he bumped uglies with Ginny he hadn’t been quite satisfied, there had been something missing. And he’d been put off by the girls he’d met afterwards who seemed to be looking for their five minutes of fame, like Harry was just some shiny trophy. He visualized what the plaque would say.

"We hereby present this award in recognition and appreciation for having a go at Harry Potter’s creamstick.”

Malfoy came into the room and gave him a once-over, half-sneering half-smirking.

'Ha! That’s right you bastard, I got here earlier than you.’ He thought to himself, putting on his boots and watching Malfoy’s every move four lockers away.

“I know I look absolutely smashing this morning but stop staring, Potter.”

“Fuck you, Malfoy.”

“Well, aren’t we a bloody ray of sunshine today.” He turned and raised a pointy eyebrow, the stupid ferret. “What’s got your knickers in such a tight twist? Nobody asked for your autograph on the way here?”

“Do they ever shut up on your planet, Malfoy?” He said as he stood up. Encouraged by his brilliant comeback, Harry gave a brave attempt to lift an eyebrow. Malfoy gave him a look of amused confusion.

“I don’t know what to make of your brow wiggling, Potty. Are you having a serial-killer-like spasm or are you flirting?” The blond wanker said.

“Fuck you, Malfoy.” So much for good comebacks.

“I don’t know what your problem is, Scarhead, but I bet it’s difficult to pronounce.” He said smirking and he walked out of the locker room. Fucking pointy tosser, always getting under his skin. Harry slammed his locker door shut.

Harry 0 - Malfoy 1.

* * *

“What’s this I hear from Ron about you obsessing over Malfoy again?”

“I’m not obsessing, Hermione. I just want to teach him a lesson is all.”

They were waiting for their order at a Jamaican food truck two blocks away from the Ministry.

“Ron says you keep staring at Malfoy’s bum during Auror training.” She said rolling her eyes a bit.

Harry didn’t mean to at first, he was just trying to come up with new ideas to pester the git –which was completely understandable– and suddenly he found himself staring at Malfoy’s arse. But Ron was exagerating, it wasn’t like he’d spent the whole training session looking at him… did he?

"Honestly, Harry. Just ask him out already.”

“You know how the three of us have been friends for a very long time? We should stop.”

Hermione rolled her eyes again.

* * *

This was a fucking nightmare. Head Auror Robards had split them into teams of three and now Harry and Seamus were stuck with Malfoy.

“Alright, I divided each team according to what subject you need to focus on.” Robards continued. “Weasley, your team’s task is Concealment and Disguise training. Longbottom, yours will be taken out to the field for a Stealth and Tracking session. Potter, take your team and search for a vacant conference room, you’ll be studying Magical Jurisprudence, off you go.”

Harry felt like he had belly flopped from a thirty feet high trampoline.

“Well isn’t this peachy keen.” Malfoy said with a bored face. “What am I? Flypaper for freaks?”

“Why do you always have to be such a bitch, Malfoy?” Harry definitely wasn’t in the mood today. It took all his self-restraint not to punch the blond fucker.

“You say it like it’s a bad thing, Potty.” He smirked. Harry fisted his hands as his face turned red as an angered Weasley.

“Oi! We could, um, get something to eat? There’s a place that has a mean chocolate cheesecake around the corner.” Seamus had sensed the danger and interrupted just in time.

“Well now, that might be the smartest thing I’ve ever heard from you, Finnigan. Come on now, study buddies, we have the whole day ahead of us.” Malfoy walked towards the exit followed by a cringed Seamus and a sulking Harry.

Harry 0 - Malfoy 2.

He had to get him next time. Third’s the charm.

* * *

Harry left his book on the table and rubbed his tired eyes, they’d been studying for nearly four hours. Seamus was staring into his books but his eyes weren’t moving, Malfoy had given up and transfigured a couple of quills into snails and made them 'race’ across the table, watching with his chin on one hand and his blond hair falling over his forehead.

He looked good when he could manage to keep his mouth shut, and he had nice hair, it reminded him of Veelas. Harry’s mind drifted imagining how many hair products did Malfoy use to make it look so silky, the vain git. He also wondered what type of body lotion did he use, his skin always looked so smooth and soft, and did he use chapstick? His lips certainly look like he did.

Seamus loudly cleared his throat taking him out of his reverie, he was looking at Harry like he’d caught him doing something extremely embarrassing.

“I’m getting some tea or else I’ll murder someone.” Malfoy said as he stood up.

“Can you bring me a cup, please?” Harry asked.

“My my, you’re sounding polite, Potter. Did you take your meds?” And he walked out without waiting for an answer. Arsehole.

“Blimey, Malfoy’s just begging ya to shag him merciless.”

“Oh no, Seamus. Not you too.” Harry face palmed.

“Oh come off it, Harry. Everybody notices the sexual straining between the two of ya. Malfoy’s way of dealing with it is acting the maggot, yours is responding like a molested Blast-Ended Skrewt. And you bicker over the most stupid things, it was quite entertaining at first, but now’s just frustrating.”

Harry positively gaped, Seamus only smiled and returned to his book. So everyone had been watching and waiting for them to… what, give each other puppy looks in the middle of Auror training? Sneak away, like a couple of horny teenagers, to every corner they could find to kiss soft lips and touch shiny blond hair and caress smooth pale skin, press their lean bodies together, pinning one another against the wall…

Harry closed his eyes trying to erase the previous images from his mind as Malfoy re-entered the room levitating three cups. He directed one towards Seamus and another towards Harry, who looked into his cup and felt his anger emerging again.

“What right fuckery is this, Malfoy? I asked for tea, this cup is empty.”

“I seem to recall you asking for a cup, that’s what I brought you.”

“It’s fucking empty, you stupid tit.” Harry was about to lose his shit.

“I know it is, that’s.what.you.asked.for.” Malfoy gesticulated every word as if Harry was dead from the neck up.

“That’s IT!” Harry slammed his fists on the table and stood up to cross the room. “I’VE FUCKING HAD IT WITH YOU, YOU IDIOTIC PRAT!” The ferret’s eyes widened and he stepped backwards as Harry approached until he had him against the wall.

“Oi mate, take it easy!” Seamus said standing up as well. Harry’s face was inches away from Malfoy’s.

“You are validating my inherent mistrust of co-workers, Scarhead.” His gray eyes showed nothing but fear at the possibility of getting his head hexed up his arse, and still he just couldn’t keep his imbecilic commentaries to himself. Harry’s blood boiled in anger, breathing like an enraged bull. He had to make him shut the fuck up.

He pulled Malfoy's hair and Seamus took his wand out, but Harry beat him to it and slammed his lips to Malfoy’s. The blond was paralyzed by surprise, only reacting when he felt Harry’s tongue swirling on the seam of his lips and kissed back granting him entrance, holding onto Harry's waist and pressing his body against him.

“Oh, well. I- uh, I’ll just…” Seamus said and they didn't even notice him leaving the conference room.

It was a battle of lip biting and tongue sucking and arse grabbing like Harry had never experienced before, and the moaning sounds Malfoy was making, dear Merlin, it should be a crime to sound so bloody sexy. They kept pulling and rubbing and kissing, leaving love bites on their necks and jaws until Harry parted the kiss to stop himself from jizzing in his pants. Malfoy groaned at the loss, their breaths agitated and hot.

"Finally. Found a way to shut you up." Harry said with a raspy voice. "Wonder how many other ways I can find."

Malfoy was flushed and couldn't utter a single word.

Ha!

Harry 1 - Malfoy 2

[weasley-kings]

Beguiling Bubbles

Pairing: George x Reader Request: Request where (Y/n) gets dosed with a love potion by someone else, but she accidentally falls for one of the twins instead A/N: Sorry it’s been ages! It’s very late at night so this hasn’t been edited. Also, where I go into detail about how the first person the drinker sees is who they fall for, that was pulled directly out of my ass souly for the purpose of the story because the wiki didn’t have much on the other potions that weren’t amortentia so I made it up  Squicks: little bit of swearing

~George’s POV~

He sort of blackmailed me into it. Seamus Finnigan knew about the shipments for the store that we were hiding in the Docks, and threatened to go to McGonagall if we didn’t help him out.

“Which one of you is the least crap at potions?” he had asked me and Fred, smiling while thinking of all the possibilities now that he had us under his thumb.

“Neither of us are shit at potions mate,” Fred stood up for himself, sneering down at the little stain who thought he could boss us around.

“Alright, if one of you can get a love potion to me by tomorrow night I’ll keep your little secret, howzabout it?”

We had no clue what he wanted a love potion for, but we didn’t really care. The less we had to spend dealing with that git the better.

“You’re the least shit at potions,” Fred said to me once Seamus had buggered off, “do you wanna make it?” I groaned in response, honestly not wanting to go through the trouble of sneaking into Snape’s little pantry to get out some shit that I don’t even want, then go to the trouble of making this damn thing, again when it isn’t even something I want.

We stayed up that night making the blasted potion, Fred insisting that he was there for encouragement purposes. Not many people knew that I was actually alright at Potions, especially since Snape would never dream of giving me the marks to show it…

At around 3 in the morning, the stupid potion was done. We poured it into one of the empty bottles from the ingredients that we nicked, and snuck back up to Gryffindor tower. On our way back up to our dorm, we made sure to make a stop on the way. “Oi, what the f—“ Seamus started, freaking out at the sudden awakening of Fred shoving him, “There’s your perfume, now get off our backs,” I whispered sharply at Seamus, as he took the bottle and told us to piss off.

— — Morning (Regular POV) — —

Fred and George were at the Gryffindor table, their lack of sleep evident in their flippant attitude and tired looks. They broke out of this mood, however, when Seamus grasped their curiosity. He was whispering to Dean, holding the glass bottle filled with the cherry pink potion that George had made a few hours ago.

“What have you got, Seamus?” Ron called out, nothing his shifty behaviour as well as the unusual bottle. He was immediately shushed and shot an intimidating glare with wild hand movements, “Keep it down, Weasley! It’s a love potion idiot, I’m going to get Y/n to be all over me!” Seamus laughed, while Ron, Hermione and Harry all looked awkwardly and warily each other.

Fred’s eyes widened as he looked over at his twin, who had an angry expression on his face, mixed with fear. George, much like Seamus, had feelings for Y/n, and Fred knew about it because, well, of course he does. The two weren’t particularly close with Y/n, but that didn’t stop George crushing over her constantly.

Seamus and Dean laughed, as they nodded to each other, silently setting their plan in motion. Before George had the chance to do anything, Dean had started a conversation with Y/n, causing her to look away from her breakfast, while Seamus poured the contents of the bottle into her orange juice. George looked at Seamus with a panicked expression, only to have it returned with Seamus’ glare, wordlessly sending him a warning of what he’ll do if George blew his cover.

Fred quietly swore to himself, the gears in his brain trying to work out a solution, while George weighed out his options: lose Y/n or lose the shop. In these moments, the answer was obvious to George, but as he looked back at her, she was already bringing the glass to her lips.

“Y/N—!” George tried to warn her. As she drank the liquid she looked across the table at George, her eyes lingering on him. Seamus and Dean laughed and high-fived from behind her, as she put the glass back on the table.

Now would be a good time to take note on the assortments of love potions. There are five known assortments of love potions, each with assumingly different effects. George, having not opened up the shop with his brother yet, had not yet needed to test out these different types. Unlike Amortentia where the giver of the potion is the one the drinker will be infatuated with, it’s the first person that the drinker sees that they will be infatuated with in this case.

— — George’s POV — —

She kept staring at me, as if something was stopping her from looking away. A smile slowly formed on her lips, as she rested her head in her hands, still staring at me.

“Y/n? You alright there?” Fred asked, moving his head next to mine to try and get her to look at him. She kept staring, her smile big as she replied in an airy voice, “never been better”.

Seamus, clearly annoyed, sat directly next to Y/n and moved her head with his hands so that she was facing him, “Helloooo?” he said into her face,

“I’d rather look at George Weasley,” she giggled, looking back at me, her head resting in her hands again, “God, you’re handsome, isn’t he handsome, er, whatever your name is,” she said to Seamus, causing Fred and Dean to laugh and Seamus to look like he would explode with anger.

“Uh, how about we go for a walk?” I suggest quickly, standing up as more people start to pay attention to the small scene.

Y/n gasped with excitement, “yes! Let’s go on a loooong romantic walk together!”

I start to walk toward the door with Y/n walking on the other side of the table at the same pace, watching me still with that smile.

Fred nudged me, “George, mate, don’t get sucked into it, it’s the potion talking—“

“I know,” I say quietly back, “we’re going to the hospital wing”.

Walking all the way up to the hospital wing was nothing short of a nightmare. All I’ve wanted was for Y/n to have feelings for me, but there’s only so many compliments, hand holding, cuddles and heart eyes one man can take in the space of five minutes.

“What’s the problem?” Madam Pomfrey asked,

“Y/n’s been slipped a love potion,” Fred says, as I hold up my arm which Y/n is hugging.

“Ah, I see,” Madam Pomfrey says sceptically, “I hope you realise that love potions are banned from Hogwarts…”

I explained to her that I wasn’t the one to slip Y/n that blasted potion, but how I was the first one she looked at afterwards. She thankfully believed me, and sat the dazed Y/n down on one of the hospital beds and handing her an antidote.

“Isn’t he dreamy…” Y/n giggled, eyes back on me.

“I think it best that the two of you leave, or else the antidote will take much longer to work,” Madam Pomfrey explained, as Y/n flipped her hair and sent me a wink.

Fred and I both agreed, and we said good-bye to Y/n, to which she started crying. “Noooooo George, I don’t want you to leave, pleeeeeeease!” she whaled.

“It would make me really happy if you just stayed here and got some rest, alright?” I asked her, looking down at my hand that she had taken in her own. It stung that she was only acting as if she was in love with me because of a potion, and that she didn’t really have any of these feelings towards me, not really. I wanted to get out of there soon as possible so I wouldn’t have to think about that, but there was also something that felt perfect about my hand being in hers.

After a few hours, a healthy Y/n walked cautiously through the portrait hole of the Gryffindor common room. A few people saw her and giggled amongst themselves, embarrassment clear on Y/n’s face. A few hours ago she couldn’t keep her eyes off me, and now she couldn’t even bring herself to look in my direction, instead looking at the floor as she walked past the Gryffindors, towards the stair case leading to the dormitories.

“Y/n, hold up,” I say, taking hold of her forearm as we were half way up the staircase. She turned around, taking a moment before gaining the confidence to look up at me.

“Y/n, I know you probably feel like shit, and if there’s anything I can do I’ll do it, but I didn’t slip you that love potion, I wouldn’t do that to you,” I try to explain. I wasn’t trying to defend myself, I just wanted to ease some of the embarrassment that she was feeling. I repeat the story of how it all happened, and I could see her face soften. “I wouldn’t do anything to force you to have feelings for me, I know you don’t feel that way about me,” I say, not meaning to sound as deflated as I felt.

Y/n looked at me, not the same way as this morning, but with a curious look, as if briefly studying me.

“I do like you, George,” she said, smiling at the look of astonishment on my face.

“You… What?” is all I manage to say, causing her to laugh,

“Yeah, I like you a fair bit, maybe not crazy in love like this morning,” she smiles, “but there’s definitely something there. I’ve already made a fool of myself in front of you today, so I might as well admit it all now,” she says with a shrug.

I don’t say anything for a few seconds, because what do you say back to that? The girl who went from head-over-heels in love with me to what I thought would be her despising me, and now meeting in the middle to her fancying me, it’s a lot. So, with no words coming to mind to save me, I kissed her. I wrapped my arm around her, my free hand resting on her jaw, as she kissed me back almost immediately.

We parted, and I couldn’t help but smile. Who knew that Seamus being such a dick could’ve turned out this good?

[ilikegirlsandharrystyles]

How to Pass Potions 101

(A/N) submission to be an admin for @the-houses-of-hogwarts “What do you mean you want to poison Professor Snape?” “Not poison! I just want him to grade my exam when he’s in a very good mood.” “You honestly think the way to get a good grade is to poison a professor’s pumpkin juice?” “Oh come on Hannah, you and I both know I’ll never pass this class if I don’t do this.” Seamus turns to his Hufflepuff friend, smirking at her annoyed face. “Oh calm down. It’s not like I’m opening the Chamber of Secrets or anything.” Seamus’ joke causes Hannah’s serious face to be replaced by a smile. “Well at this rate maybe you’ll be in more trouble than Potter this year.” Hannah jokes. “Nah. I heard Granger punched Malfoy, so maybe she’s got the crown.” Seamus laughed at Hannah’s shocked face as he delivered the rumor to her. “So if you want me to be loose a thousand pints for Gryffindor this year, you really ought to help me pass Potions.” Before Seamus even finished his sentence, Hannah was groaning. “What would you need me to do?” “Um, maybe you could make an Elixir to induce Euphoria?” Seamus looked to Hannah’s glare with large eyes, hoping she’ll agree to make the complicated potion. “That’s an advanced potion! Snape teaches it to 6th years!” “But you’re so incredibly clever, I’m sure you can figure it out.” “Seamus, you don’t understand, even if I could figure it out, I’d need Shrivelfig, Wormwood, and multiple other ingredients which I could only find in-“ “My personal storage?” The pair turns around to find Professor Snape looming over them. “P-Professor?” Hannah squeaked as her face paled. She could only imagine the weeks of detention and points Snape would remove from her house. Seamus however, seemed more annoyed that he’d actually have to study for the upcoming exam than scared of detention. “Miss Abbott, I suggest you return to your dormitory, it is nearing curfew.” Snape glares at Hannah’s back as she walks away. “Miss Abbott?” Hannah turns to face Snape once more before making her mistake. “While I am confident you could brew the elixir, I highly suggest you resist from poking around my personal collection of ingredients.” Hannah only nods- fear has rendered her speechless- and continues walking to the Hufflepuff common room. “As for you, Finnigan,” Snape turns to the young Gryffindor, “5 points will be deducted from Gryffindor for the extreme stupidity to believe this foolish plan would work. Refrain from attempting to cheat your way through my class again.” “Yes, sir.” And with that, Seamus walks back to the common room to study for the exam, or rather, fall asleep on the book.

[georgeluz]

Hi! I just came across the ask game you were doing,and i hope i'm not too late to the game D: I don't have a face tag bc i almost never take selfies but, i have brown eyes and short dark curly hair, a roundish face, my Myers Briggs personality is INTP, my sign is pisces. My hogwarts house is Slytherin, my GOT house is Stark, and my favorite animal is a dog. I'm in Sherlock and Harry Potter hell at the moment, but either is just as good for me. Thanks and good idea with the game! :3

NO MORE REQUESTS PLEASSSSEEE.

omg? OKAY NGL IM RLLy rUSTY WITH SHERLOCK. So I’m gonna do Harry Potter bare with me aaah.

The Character I See You As: Harry Potter! Omg I actually think this is a really good fit. He is curious, open-minded and observant, and very straightforward and honest (unless given a good reason to be otherwise). But, on the other hand, he can be condescending, insensitive, and incredibly withdrawn/private. I just love this kid a lot. He fits into INTP really, really well. I almost put someone else here but I feel like he represents it a lot better.

Your Three Best Friends: Dean Thomas, Luna Lovegood, Cho Chang

The One You Don’t Get Along With: Draco Malfoy. He gives Slytherins a bad name. Greedy, crafty, and intelligent as he is, he’s also a coward, a wimp, and a fraud. He lacks a backbone half the time. Slytherins are not inherently evil, rich, stupid, etc, but him and his goons terrorizing people doesn’t really help the image. 

Who I Ship You With: Seamus Finnigan. Cute, sweet, highly motivated, and immensely brave? I mean come on, he’s the whole package here. He’s not quite as smart as you, but he makes up for it with banter and unconditional love. Also he’s completely enamored with how devoted you are to your ideas and things you’re obsessed with, just like he’s freaking obsessed with Quiditch. Basically he just thinks you’re the coolest and follows you around like a lil puppy (but also knows when he needs to leave you alone, is incredibly patient with you when you’re not in the mood to talk, etc).

Wildcard: Slytherin. Quidditch Chaser. Favorite subject is Herbology.

Lil Blurb Thing: You were a Chaser because you had a good eye. You could think fast on your feet (or your broom, you supposed), and you could see the entire picture. You didn’t often get caught up in bludgers whizzing past you, nor did you panic under pressure, not easily anyway. You just buckled down and worked, and somehow that made you a pretty damn good Chaser. You weren’t particularly athletic, nor did you have an affinity towards sports, but you needed an outlet, otherwise you spent way too much time surrounded by plants (or, often times, you were buried in astronomy books).

After a long day of bouncing between studies, you took your broom out onto the field and started practicing. The Slytherin Team Captain had repeatedly warned you that if you didn’t start practicing more, he would replace you. You thought you might snap at him, after all, Quidditch wasn’t your favorite thing in the world. It was a fun hobby. You liked the attention it got you from time to time (though you were mostly quite private). But it wasn’t worth getting yelled at because you couldn’t take the field five days a week.

You spent most of the afternoon whizzing back and forth among the goalposts, sending quaffles every which way until the routines nearly bored you to tears. That was the point, you decided, when you needed a break. You brought yourself down to the stands and set your broom down, lounging on the bleachers until you could decide what homework you were going to work on back in the commonroom.

“Nice flying.”

Startled, you jolted up from your position, realizing you were looking right into the eyes of Seamus Finnigan. You recognized his accent immediately. A fellow seventh year, just like yourself. He had grown out of his chubby cheeks and awkward haircuts, just like you had. You were close with Dean Thomas, so you knew Seamus well enough.

“Hey, thanks,” you reply, trying to muster up some pep despite being exhausted and in no mood to talk to anyone. 

“You look hungry. And you gotta keep up your strength for this sport, right? I got something for ya.” Not giving you time to dispute, he tosses a chocolate bar into your lap. You look down at it and stare for a moment, furrowing a brow.

“This really isn’t going to build up strength. It’s candy.”

“Listen-” He breaks off, turning red, more than likely deciding it best not to argue. You were right, after all. “I really admire your skill, yeah? I wish Gryffindor had a Chaser as focused and determined as you. I swear, nothing shakes you.”

You keep staring at him, weakly smiling, unsure of how to respond. You find yourself fumbling with the chocolate in your lap. “Thanks, Seamus. Tell that to my Captain. I keep getting yelled at because I won’t practice.”

“Practice? You don’t even need to practice,” he crowed, balling a fist like he was about to go stomp off and give the boy hell.

“Hey now, now, no need to go off and fight him,” you laugh. “It’s not so bad. Thanks for the chocolate, by the way.”

Seamus rubs the back of his neck, kicking at the bleachers. “Dean told me that you liked chocolate. I-I mean I didn’t plan this. I just. I happened to be here. I come out here to think before games, you know?”

You gave him a funny look, firmly pressing your lips together, trying not to laugh at his fumbling and tumbling over words. “I get it. Hey, when you announce for my next game, you should bring me chocolate again. This is my favorite kind.” You had a feeling he knew that anyway. You thought you might as well throw him a bone, he was being so ridiculously cheesy (and sweet).

“I will, just don’t let me forget!” He yelped, cracking a lopsided, turning on his heels. 

“Alright, Seamus, alright!” You call after him, chuckling to yourself as you begin tearing open the chocolate bar. You’d always liked him, you just hadn’t ever thought of him the way he was thinking of you. It wasn’t hard to pick up on after that encounter. In fact, you realized, you had been stupid not to realize it before.

[justanotherstudyblrrrr]

Study Mood Masterlist:

• Times of the Day: Dusk.

• Dead Poets Society: Pitts.

• Dead Poets Society: Meeks.

• Dead Poets Society: Knox.

• Dead Poets Society: Nuwanda.

• Dead Poets Society: Neil Perry.

• Dead Poets Society: Todd Anderson.

• Seasons: Spring (2024)

• Seamus Finnigan.

• Dean Thomas.

• The Marauders: James Potter.

• The Marauders: Remus Lupin.

• The Marauders: Sirius Black.

• The Marauders: Lily Evans.

• The Marauders: Peter Pettigrew.

• Seasons: Winter (2023)

• Seasons: Autumn (2023)

• Seasons: Summer (2023)

• Seasons: Spring (2023)

• Seasons: Winter (2022)

• The Silver Trio: Neville Longbottom.

• The Silver Trio: Luna Lovegood.

• The Silver Trio: Ginny Weasley.

• Seasons: Autumn (2022)

• The Golden Trio: Harry Potter.

• The Golden Trio: Ron Weasley.

• The Golden Trio: Hermione Granger.

• Seasons: Summer (2022)

• Microbiology.

• Ladies From Bones.

[sapphirelass]

Two Peas in a Pod - Harry PotterxSister

Please note:

1: I don’t own any of the gifs used, nor any already established characters, so credit to the authors and original creators - You have done a phenomenal job :)

2: English is not my native language, as I was born and raised in Sweden. I have, however, studied English for almost a decade, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem, I just thought I’d let you know ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For this one-shot I have taken inspiration from both the book and the film, as well as left out parts of the original dialogue that, for the purpose of this story, felt irrelevant. 

Word count: ≈ 2400

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two Peas in a Pod

Harry Potter and his twin sister Lucy were like two peas in a pod. Always had been. Supposedly, that was what happened when young magicians had to grow up with muggles, especially if those muggles were named “Dursley”. Harry was always more impulsive, whereas Lucy took on the role of the rational one, yet they had both been placed in Gryffindor house by the sorting hat four years prior.

It was now the first of September 1995, and last year had been a rough one. Lord Voldemort, the dark wizard who had killed Harry and Lucy’s parents, had just come back and despite their efforts, this holiday had been more miserable than any of the previous ones. Dudley and his friends, dementor attacks, and a general lack of communication with the wizarding world left the twins in a particularly bad mood. They arrived at Kings Cross, and after pulling Harry away from Draco Malfoy, Lucy, her brother, Ron and Hermione boarded the Hogwarts express, and found a place to sit.

During the start-of-the-year feast, the small group of friends quickly realized that something was wrong. Their new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor - Dolores Umbridge - was a ministry employe, which was weird on its own, but the way she spoke, acted, and kept interrupting Dumbledore with shrill, irritating *hum hum*’s made them all feel queasy. 

After a quiet discussion in the common room (and quite a bit of loud arguing between Harry and Seamus Finnigan), they went to bed, yawning, and not exactly looking forward to that year’s first period of DADA.

***

They entered the classroom, and to their surprise, Umbridge actually wasn’t there yet. Harry and Lucy shared a confused look, but went to sit down, Harry with Ron, and Lucy with Hermione. Eventually though, the professor did arrive, her unnaturally high-pitched voice bringing them all back to reality.

“Good morning, class!” she said cheerfully

There was a quiet murmur among the students, and Umbridge shook her head.

“Good Morning!” she said again, this time more sternly. “I expect you to answer me when spoken to.”

A slightly louder “Good morning professor” could be heard, and though Umbridge didn’t seem too pleased, she decided to move on with the lesson.

“Ordinary Wizarding Levels - OWLs” she started. “Your previous teachers in this subject have all been quite questionable choices, however this year things will be the way they were meant to. Open your books on page 4.”

A few minutes had passed before Hermione raised her hand and said “Professor, there is nothing in here about using defensive spells.”

“Using spells?” Umbridge asked, laughing nastily

“We’re not to use magic?” Ron asked

“You will be learning defensive magic in a safe, risk-free environment”

“But”, said Harry, rather angrily, “what good would that do? If we were attacked that wouldn’t be risk-free!”

“Ha!”, laughed Umbridge, “And who exactly do you think would want to attack a helpless child such as yourself? Besides, the education you will receive will be more than enough for you to pass your OWLs, and that is after all just what school is about.” She finished with a smirk, looking rather satisfied with her speech.

Lucy, who had sat quietly this whole time shifted slightly in her chair, and exclaimed: “It’s not though! 

“Sorry?” Umbridge asked, dumbfounded

“School isn’t solely about receiving good grades! It’s about preparing the students for life, and supplying them with the tools and knowledge necessary in order to succeed and improve. If we’re not going to do that, then why, may I ask, is this a mandatory course? It’s already starting to seem rather pointless to me.”

Harry was perplexed. How his sister always managed to, 1: use her words in such a remarkable way, and 2: remain calm through the most infuriating of situations was a mystery to him, however he turned his gaze back towards Umbridge, waiting for her reply.

“Nonsense” She said. “This course is compulsory, and rightfully so!”

“How though?” Inquired Lucy, pushing it further than she probably should have. “Can you name any situation, apart from the exam, where your teachings will be of any help to us? Or didn’t the ministry consider that?”

That was the top of the iceberg.

“DETENTION!!” shouted Umbridge. “My office, 8:30 would you be so kind, Ms Potter.”

Lucy flinched. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, however detention was not something she had to endure very often. That was more Harry’s thing. She sank quietly back onto her chair, and Umbridge continued with her boring, unnecessary lesson, reciting facts and procedures they had all learnt about 4 years earlier. Lucy could feel her brother staring, practically burning a hole in her neck, but somehow, probably thanks to Ron, he kept quiet for the rest of the class.

An hour later, class ended and none of the Gryffindor students wasted any time getting out of Umbridge’s classroom. Lucy threw her stuff into her brown, leather bag and dashed out of the room without making eye contact with her brother or friends.

“Luce!” Harry shouted. “Wait up!”

He caught up with his sister on the stairs leading down to McGonagall’s classroom.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Looking up at him with an annoyed stare she said “Yes Harry! Just brilliant!” with a sarcastic tone in her voice. She kept on walking, but Harry grabbed her shoulder. A few years ago, they had been roughly the same size, but Harry had grown A LOT, and was by now almost seven inches taller. All the quidditch training had apparently paid off too, and Lucy knew instantly that she would never be able to escape his firm, yet gentle grip. He glanced down on her with a worried look on his face.

“I’m serious!” he said. “Stop”

She turned around and faced him. “What?” She spat at him, suddenly noticing her icy voice. 

“Sorry…” Lucy mumbled, “she just pissed me off. I’m fine.” Her facial expression softened and she met Harry’s eyes for the first time since class ended. He let go of her shoulders, and was just about to say something when a tall ginger came running at full speed and gave Lucy a supportive pat on the back.

“That was bloody brilliant!” Ron exclaimed. “Lucy, did you see the look on her face? Bloody hell, she was angrier than Malfoy after Harry beat him in his first quidditch match!”

“Yes” stated Lucy simply, as Hermione made her way down the stairs, “I saw…”

“Oh cheer up!” stated Ron, “an hour or two of detention isn’t the end of the world. If you ask me, it was totally worth it!”

Hermione gave him a disapproving stare as Lucy sadly stated, “It might not have been the cleverest thing to do” Both Harry and Hermione blinked at her with a sort of “you-don’t-say?” kind of look as she kept on speaking. “But you must admit that it’s the truth? Defence against the dark arts has never been as important as it is right now. We are all going to die before the end of the year unless we learn and improve?!”

“You’re right.” Hermione muttered, and surprisingly, she smiled slightly. “But we’ll have to talk about that later, otherwise we’ll be late for transfiguration. Come on!”

***

The rest of the day went by rather quickly, and the quartet soon found themselves in front of the fireplace in the common room. It was about 8:20 when Lucy stood up, grabbed a jacket, and left for Umbridge’s office.

“Good luck!” Harry said, frowning deeply, “I’ll wait for you here.”

Lucy turned around quickly, “Haz, you don’t have to. I’ll be fine. You need your sleep and I have no idea how long this is going to take.”

Harry gave her a sort or irritated look, to which she sighed and left without a word.

“What do you think she’ll have her do?” Hermione questioned.

“I don’t know” Harry hissed, “but I’m sure she’ll tell me when she gets back...”

The remaining three looked at each other. Ron threw Harry a chocolate frog, and then - they waited…

***

*knock knock*

There was a slight clinking noise, like metal on china, followed by a repulsing “come in”. Lucy took a deep breath and pushed the door open. 

“Ah!” chirped Umbridge, “Potter, sit down, will you?”

Lucy apprehensively made her way across the room to the chair her so-called “professor” had pointed at. She sat down and looked around nervously.

“You will be writing some sentences for me today, no” Umbridge said, as Lucy reached down to her bag to pick up something to write with. “no, not with your own quill. You’ll be using a rather special one of mine.” She smiled evilly, and pushed a black, pointy feather across the table.

Lucy grabbed it carefully and asked in a silent, trembling voice, “what should I write?”

“Oh, right! How about… ‘I must obey my superiors’?”

***

It was about three hours later, when Lucy slowly made her way back to the common room, red, hot blood dripping from her left hand leaving a small trail through the corridor. The pain had intensified, and was by this point almost unbearable. She took a quick detour to the girls’ bathroom, hoping to be able to clean herself up a bit before having to face her friends and brother. She had told him to go to sleep, after all, it was almost midnight by now, but she knew him all too well. The odds of him being in bed were absolutely zero. 

She watched the thick, red liquid disappear down the sink and let a few tears fall, before grabbing some paper making sure no tears or blood could be seen. She had to make it through the common room up to the dormitories quickly though, since she was sure Harry would be able to tell she’d been crying, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. Sure, she could just tell him, but something inside her argued against that. He had been rather angry and distressed all summer, and she knew he wasn’t feeling much better now. Harry had enough to deal with without handling her problems too.

Entering the common room, roughly four seconds had passed before her brother was by her side. 

“Hey,” he said gently, “everything okay?”

She nodded and mumbled a quiet. “Yes. ‘m tired though, night Harry”

She walked the stairs up to her dorm, leaving Harry behind. He simply stood there dumbfounded. What had just happened? “Oh… okay, night Luce”

She didn’t answer…

***

The following morning, he found her at the breakfast table, slowly digesting a tiny portion of porridge. She was wearing one of his old quidditch jumpers underneath her cloak. He knew, because it was far too big for her, and the sleeves reached down to her fingertips.

“Hey,” he said, ruffling her long, strawberry blonde hair, “Feeling better?”

“Sure, “ she murmured, slowly pulling the sleeves even further down. He gave her a supportive hug.

“But come on now, “ he urged her. “You can’t be sad forever. What did she have you do?”

“Nothing…”

“Luce!”

“Just write some sentences. It was fine, rather dull to be honest with you.” She threw the spoon into the bowl, and pushed it away. “How are you feeling? Any bad dreams?”

“Always…” he muttered, shaking his head at the milk that had splashed out on the table, “could have been worse though.”

Harry made himself some toast, as Ron and Hermione joined them in the great hall. 

***

A week or so later Harry had had enough. It was in defence against the dark arts, on a rather cold Tuesday afternoon that he finally snapped, and shouted at professor Umbridge, who seemed almost too happy for a reason to give him detention.

The gang sat, yet again, around the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, when Harry suddenly left and climbed through the portrait hole. He came back a few hours later, a downright furious look on his face, and walked straight up to his sister without even noticing the ghost he had stumbled through. He looked down at her smaller frame, his quidditch jumper yet again pulled over her head. 

“Let me see, ” he said through gritted teeth, causing Lucy to look up at him, trying her best to act confused.

“Wha…”

“Lucy - let. me. see.” he repeated firmly, his emerald eyes penetrating the mental wall behind which she had been trying so hard to hide her troubles.

She closed her eyes and pulled her sleeve up to her elbow. The blood had naturally dried, however five heart wrenching words were etched into her still red, irritated skin. 

I must obey my superiors

No one said a thing. Lucy was staring at the floor, not daring to meet her brother’s eyes, all while Harry felt madder than he ever had before.

Madder than when Dudley had been pushing him around the school yard.

Madder than when Malfoy had taunted him because of the dementors.

Madder than when he had found out that his aunt and uncle had lied about their parents true fate for almost 10 years. 

This was his sister, and it was far from okay.

Without thinking, Harry was just about to shout at her for keeping something like that from him, when he noticed that she was crying. Soft, quiet sobs that she were clearly trying to hide. It felt as if all his anger simply washed away, and he crouched down and took her hand in his. 

Harry’s hand was still covered in blood. He hadn’t had time to clean it, but had instead taken the shortest way to the common room, after realizing what had happened. Raising his right hand, he pulled her closer and felt her lean her head on his chest. They sat like that, arms wrapped around each other, for hours and slowly started drifting off to sleep.

Were they okay? Not at all. Would they be? Absolutely! Because they had each other, and when it really came down to it, that was all they needed, as the Potter twins were just like two peas in a pod.

~ L

Masterlist

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars XII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Babies are solving mysteries and saving Harry’s life.

Words: 2,381

Warnings: None!

Series’ Masterlist

Previous chapter // Next chapter

Chapter Twelve: The First Match.

When Hermione joined the group, things started to go smoother and faster. 

The lessons were getting interesting as well as difficult, but now Mel had someone to study -Ron was quite relieved- Hermione now accepted that relaxing wasn't a bad thing and overall was in a better mood.

Harry on the other side, wasn't so happy: The Quidditch season had started and Wood was extra demanding.

"I know books don't work when it comes to sports, but I could lend you my copy of 'Quidditch through the ages' that I took from the library," Hermione offered, "it could help?"

"Yes, thank you," Harry smiled, "I need all the help I can get."

The morning before the game they were sitting outside on the courtyard, Harry anxiously reading the last pages of the book while keeping themselves warm thanks to the lovely blue fire Hermione was an expert at making.

Snape crossed the yard limping, the four kids sat closer together so he wouldn't see the little flame inside the jam jar. However, they caught his eye, and he crossed the path to get to them.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"

Harry showed him the book.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

"What a crow!" Mel hissed when Snape was out of sight, "Five points?"

"He just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily, "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly.

That evening the common room was excited about the game. Harry was restless, fidgeting with his tie.

"I'm going to ask Snape for the book," He said, standing up suddenly, "I need it"

"It's late, maybe you should just try to take a nap?" Mel retorted.

"Then he won't sleep for the rest of the night," Hermione replied, "but are you sure about this, Harry?"

"I need it so I can distract myself, maybe if in front of other teachers he'll have no choice but to give me the book"

"Rather you than me," Said Ron and Hermione in unison.

"I'll go with you," Mel offered.

"It won't take long, stay"

"Alright," She frowned, watching as he left the common room, "I'm not sure if Quidditch's actually the best thing to happen to him, it looks like it's killing him..."

"He'll get used to it," George sat beside her, "we were nervous in our first game too"

"But we were even more excited to throw heavy things at people we didn't like," Fred added, sitting in front of them, "besides, this is just a silly game, nothing compared to defeating a troll, right, Dumbledore?

"Weren't you avoiding mischief?" George teased, "Yet you are the one causing trouble"

"That was weeks ago," She grumbled, "and we didn't do it on purpose"

"Yeah well, we couldn't talk to you before, it almost feels like you're avoiding us," George tilted his head, "To be fair, we've caused as little trouble as you, Wood has us real' busy this term"

"Give us a chance," Fred stretched his hand to shake hers, "we'll keep it professional"

She looked at the twins carefully.

"I won't get you out of trouble by being your friend, you know?"

"You think we want to be friends out of pure interest?" George put a hand on his chest, "How dare you?"

"But we did hear about your talent for getting out of trouble, and we would love to stay close just in case," Fred smiled brightly, "besides, it's weird that a Ron's friend doesn't like us, you have to like us, we come in the package."

"Leave her alone," Ron said tiredly.

"Ronnie, we're talking to the lady, you leave us alone" George stood up, slapping the back of Ron's head.

"Let's go, they don't appreciate us around here..."

Mel was about to reply when Harry stumbled inside the common room, eyes wide.

"Did you get it?" Ron asked, "What's the matter?"

Harry told them what happened in the teacher's room. He'd seen Snape and Filch talking about the three-headed dog.

"You know what this means?" He asked, "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Hallowe'en! That's where he was going when we saw him – he's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to create a diversion!"

"No – he wouldn't," Hermione said. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."

"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," Ron rolled his eyes, "I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"

"Something small," Mel said, remembering the package she saw on Gringotts that day.

Noticing the three kids staring, she felt too self-conscious to continue.

"Or not?"

"We should just go to have dinner," Hermione put their schoolwork down, "that way Harry can go to bed early"

Harry didn't sleep and he didn't want to eat the next morning. Mel was beyond worried, so were Ron and Hermione.

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," offered Hermione.

"I'm not hungry."

"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are always the ones who get nobbled by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry.

"What Seamus means," Mel insisted, "is that you need to focus, and you can't focus with an empty stomach, Glasses."

He refused to eat.

On their way to the Quidditch pitch Mel stayed behind, Ron and Hermione gave her inquiring looks.

"It's alright, I'll catch up!"

She made her way towards the Gryffindor's changing rooms.

"Lady!" Fred was the one who saw her first, "Have you come to wish me luck?"

"Very funny. Where's Harry?"

"Harry!" Fred looked over his shoulder, "you got a fan here!"

He looked at her and winked, disappearing inside the room. Harry replaced him at the door, looking rather pale.

"Is everything okay?" He asked.

"Yes, it's just- uh..." She fumbled with the end of her scarf, did Fred really had to call her a fan? "I just wanted to wish you good luck- not that you need it! I've seen you fly, you're great. What I mean to say is... if it doesn't go as planned, I'll still be your friend. We'll still appreciate you. You know, as usual..."

She gave him a small smile, Harry still looked nervous, but he smiled back.

"I know... thank you for coming"

She was about to hug him when she caught the twins watching, both with teasing smiles on their faces. She stepped back, clearing her throat.

"See you outside, Glasses."

"See you..."

As she walked to the stands, someone approached her.

"Goodmorning Miss," Erick was wearing his green and silver scarf, "I heard Potter is the new seeker... is he any good?"

"Where did you hear that?"

"That blond twat wouldn't shut up about it," He chuckled, "He might be spoiled, but he's also intelligent. He figured it out a week ago..."

"Malfoy?" Mel grinned, "Was he mad?"

"Fuming," Erick raised his eyebrows, "He really hates your friend"

"He hates us all," She shrugged, "aren't you supposed to be friendly and good with your housemates? He's a snake, after all"

"Good?" He frowned, "If I wasted my time helping others then none of us would succeed"

"That's not a happy thought," She tilted her head, "and it doesn't make a lot of sense, you were good to me when we met"

"That's different."

"I can't see how"

"I think you're interesting. Malfoy is whiny and he doesn't have much to give, it's easy," He looked over to Mel, now that they were getting closer to the stands he moved slightly so there would be more space between them, "You could bring me to interesting points in my life, Malfoy's just boring... Talking about boring, my brother's the captain of our team and he likes to cheat a lot. You better hope for Potter to walk out of the game unharmed. Or you could just, you know, keep your wand ready"

She didn't know what to say to that. Gulping, she nodded, her eyes fixed at some point in the distance.

"Good luck, lion"

"Same for you..."

She followed the sign 'Potter for President', it was incredible, if Harry didn't want to keep it she certainly would.

Mel soon confirmed that Quidditch was her favorite sport. Lee Jordan was a marvelous narrator and he made her laugh a lot, the players were all really good, including the ones in Slytherin.

Or they were, until Marcus Flint flew and crash into Harry to prevent him from catching the snitch.

"Foul!" The Gryffindors screamed around her.

Mel remembered what Erick told her about his brother, did he know they were planning on doing that? She was worried sick about Harry's safety.

"They oughta change the rules, Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air." Hagrid, who had joined them not long ago in the stands, shook his head.

"So – after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating – "

"Jordan!"

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul –"

"Jordan, I'm warning you –"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue playing, Gryffindor still in possession."

Everything was going well, but Mel, who was the only one with her full attention on Harry, was the first to notice his broom moving out of control.

"Mione!" Mel grabbed Hermione's sleeve to get her attention, "Hey! Something's wrong!"

Harry was going higher and higher, his broom gave an aggressive jerk and threw him out of it, he was now hanging on one hand. Mel gasped and covered her eyes in horror, hoping for the worst.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no," She said in terror, "what's happening?"

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.

"The Slytherins are doing things to his broom!" Mel cried.

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark Magic – no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."

Mel felt movement beside her and uncovered one eye to see Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, she started looking frantically at the crowd.

"What are you doing?" Ron inquired.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped. "Snape – look."

Ron and Mel grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering non-stop under his breath.

"He's doing something – jinxing the broom," said Hermione.

"What should we do?"

"Leave it to me." Hermione stood up and disappeared into the crowd.

Ron lifted the binoculars and watched carefully at their friend.

"I can't watch!" Mel cried, covering her eyes again, "He's gonna get hurt! Erick was right-"

"Who's Erick?" Ron asked in confusion.

"Oh no!" Mel was looking at Harry again, the twins tried to get closer, to get him on one of their brooms. It was useless, every time they'd get closer, the broom would fly higher, so they resumed to flying in circles underneath him in case he fell.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron muttered desperately.

Then, after few awful seconds, Harry regained control, mounting back.

"Finally," She sighed, passing a hand through her hair.

"Neville, you can look!" Ron said.

Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes and holding tightly to Mel's hand.

"Now let's hope for this to end well," She hugged Neville.

Harry speed towards the ground and without saying anything he clasped a hand on his mouth, falling in all fours on the pitch, he coughed, something falling out.

"I've got the Snitch!" He shouted.

"He what?!" Mel leaned on the edge of the stands to get a better view.

"Careful!" Hagrid exclaimed, grabbing the back of her robe.

"It was Snape," The four of them were now in Hagrid's hut, "Hermione, Mel and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

They shared a look, pondering if they should tell him. Harry was the one who spoke first.

"I found out something about him, he tried to get past that three-headed dog at Hallowe'en. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

Hagrid dropped the teapot.

"How do you know about fluffy?" he said.

"Fluffy?"

"Yeah – he's mine – bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year – I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the –"

"Yes?" said Harry eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it."

"Rubbish, Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" Hermione inquired, "I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all four of yeh – yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel –"

"Aha!" said Harry. "So there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious.

"Leave it Glasses, he won't tell us who that is..." Mel stood up, ready to go back to the castle.

Hagrid seemed relieved until she added:

"I guess we'll have to look ourselves!"

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