#Youngest Weasley

[wizardemotions]

pinterest showed me some screenshots of posts that gave me the concept for an au where both harry and ron are sorted slytherin & draco is just slightly less rude in the first book. i could go into why i think this makes a lot of sense for ron but i won't. i've affectionately dubbed them the platinum quartet in my head and they will not leave me the fuck alone

[very-gay-poet]

just the idea that Harry is the youngest in the Golden Trio is so funny to me bc like. Ron and Hemione are basically his parents and that implies that they saw this little bi baby disaster and was like "ima adopt him" it just feels so strange like forbidden knowledge that Harry is the youngest like??? my brother in Christ thats a nickname waiting to happen and it NEVER not ONCE came up????? thats the most unrealistic thing about hp not magic or dragons but the fact harry was never called The Baby and had been victim to baby voice talks from Ron and Hermione

[wafflinglumos]

Every time film Ron Weasley is hated on an angel loses its wings.

YES IT IS THAT SERIOUS(Sirius). IT IS. HE’S SO HUMAN, AND IS SO MUCH MORE COMPLEX THAN SOME FREAKS GIVE HIM CREDIT FOR.

I love you Ron Weasley. I love you book canon Ron Weasley. I love you film canon Ron Weasley.

[obsessedwithceleste]

Til It’s Gone

Theodore Nott x reader

Based on this cute lil request 🤗

Summary: It seemed like they’d always been there. An ever-growing thorn in Theodore’s side. He really didn’t realize what he’d had until it was gone. (Happy ending I swear)

word count: 3.2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Theo let out a heavy sigh as he slumped into his seat, ignoring the cheery smile on your face as you turned to face him.

“Hi Theodore!” You chirped brightly, gaze landing on the tall brunette boy coming to sit next to you.

Salazar, here we go, Theo thought bitterly.

“Theo.”

“Right. Theo. How was your day?” You continued on, seemingly oblivious to his indifference as you scribbled mindlessly on your parchment.

Theodore wasn’t stupid. Quite the opposite in fact. He knew you liked him. That much you’d made rather obvious. Especially as of late. If saving him a seat everyday in this miserable class didn’t make it clear to everyone that you had a certain affection for the boy, then the notes dropped in his bag, or kisses blown from across the Great Hall certainly did.

The only reason Theo even accepted sitting next to you was because the seat was positioned perfectly to be just outside of Professor Binns’ field of vision, saving him the work of pretending to care about whatever topic the professor was rattling on about.

“I don’t see why you even put up with it all,” Mattheo often said. “Just reject them and move on with it.”

“Or at least stop sitting with them. You’re only encouraging them,” Enzo would add.

Yet, here he was, still sat lazily in the seat next to you. Theo didn’t particularly care that you fancied him to be quite honest. He’d gotten used to the same pattern of stoically ignoring your chatter, copying your carefully organized notes, and leaving. So long as you weren’t too annoying, he didn’t see the harm in sticking around. Besides it’s not like you weren’t easy on the eyes. And he supposed there was something to be said about the confidence with which you acted that set you apart from the general hoard of girls harboring similar feelings.

“Theo?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts as he glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Fine.” He replied tersely before turning once more to stare blankly ahead.

He’d changed his mind. Absolutely not. This was horrible. At this point, Theo wasn’t even sure if you actually liked him, or were only claiming you did as an excuse to see how much you could embarrass him.

“Mate, this is getting to be Weaselette levels of weird,” Draco said as their group stared in horror at the third year who had approached them warily in the halls with a poem to read aloud in hand.

Theo visibly shuddered, remembering the awful valentine the youngest Weasley had sent Saint Potter a few years prior.

“Save everyone the embarrassment and walk away now, kid,” Draco told the boy. “Go on. Scram.”

The third year didn’t need to be told twice and quickly darted off, away from the group of Slytherin boys.

“It isn’t even 8am mate. Where does that girl get the time to do all this?” Enzo grumbles as they made their way into the Great Hall for breakfast.

Theo simply ignores his friend’s comments, something he was getting used to doing, as they all sat down at their usual table.

They’d all seemed to have an opinion on you as soon as it became apparent that you had developed a crush on him, and Theo had just about had enough of his friend’s seemingly endless comments regarding his not so secret admirer.

The familiar small parcel tied neatly with a white ribbon that sat waiting for Theodore in his usual spot didn’t go unnoticed, starting the whole thing up again.

“For Salazar’s sake Theo, do you not find it creepy?” Draco asks, eyeing the package.

Theo rolled his eyes at his dramatic friend.

“I don’t care. You all seem to be more interested in y/n’s little stunts than I am, and I’m the one they’re intended for. They’re harmless. Just leave it and they’ll probably get bored eventually.”

“Yeah, or they’ll just keep it up thinking you’re playing all hard to get or what not,” Mattheo snorts.

Theo just glares at his friend, stabbing a sausage with his fork. Just behind Matt’s head, seated at a table with your own friends, Theo sees you blow a kiss his way, winking cheekily.

“Aw, they growing on you? Who would’ve thought dark and broody would be into golden girl herself,” Mattheo teases, earning him a sharp kick from under the table.

“Morning Theodore,” you greet, as the brooding boy once again took his seat beside you, this time in potions.

“It’s Theo.”

“That’s what I said.”

You hear the boy let out a small snort and you smile to yourself. That was one of the biggest reactions you’d been able to get out of the boy.

Your friends often wondered why you so insistently pursued the grumpy Slytherin boy, despite his general apathy towards you, and honestly, it was as simple as the fact that you enjoyed the challenge.

It was like your own little game of cat and mouse. Constantly finding little ways to make the boy smile, even if he didn’t realize it was you. And the rush of excitement you got anytime you were able to elicit any sort of reaction from the boy was like a drug that kept you coming back for more.

You’d found that the best way to elicit such reactions was by staging little acts of public affection whether it be a kiss sent his way or an origami note perched on his desk. Each time, you could see the heat rise softly in the boy’s cheeks as he tried desperately to keep it at bay, sometimes even fighting back a small smile.

Today you had come to class a bit early in order to set up both you and Theo’s potion stations before the brown haired Slytherin arrived, taking extra care to gather enough ingredients for each of your potions. You weren’t even sure he realized that you were doing all this for him, but watching his satisfied smile as he brewed away made it worth it.

That was another thing you had grown to appreciate about the boy. While his friends were all rather light-minded and rowdy, his wit and level-headedness balanced out the group. Theo was smart, and didn't feel the need to make a point about it, flying under the radar of many of your classmates when it came to who had the best marks. Sure it was fun to tease the boy, but you also had a certain admiration for him that went deeper then the nonserious way you often conducted yourself around him.

The rest of the class passed in a sort of agreed upon silence as you worked on your potions. Of course you’d like to talk to Theo a bit, but you’d found he’d preferred the silence, usually not uttering more than a few words to you per class. It was something you could work on eventually you supposed.

“See you later Theodore,” you said brightly once you had finished gathering up your things. Joining your group of friends, you toss one last wave over your shoulder at the boy, smiling to yourself. He hadn’t bothered to correct you for once.

The last thing Theo expected while roaming the dusty shelves of the library was to hear his own name being whispered from deeper within the maze of books he was searching through. The library was where he went to escape his friend’s incessant gossip about the rest of the school’s population, yet he was interested in what was being said about him. He didn’t often venture outside his usual group of Slytherins, so he didn’t know exactly what he expected to hear.

Following the loud whispers, Theo stopped, looming in the shadows once he was able to make out the dark figures of students huddled in one of the many rows of books.

“Sure Theo might be one of the most attractive boys in our year, but his head is so far up his own arse, it’s a wonder he can see straight.” A voice practically snarled as its owner leaned lazily against one of the shelves.

Theo felt himself immediately tense. Is that what they thought now? His fists clenched as he refrained from crashing through the shelves to give these snots a piece of his mind.

“Honestly, being an arrogant prick isn’t something to be proud of. He’s just like every other Slytherin who makes being a pure blood their only personality trait.” Another voice adds.

“Oh fuck off you two.”

Theo’s ears perk up, surprised to hear your voice join the chatter.

“Please, like you’re one to talk y/n. You’re practically blinded by desperation. Theo Nott is an utter prat and he treats you like shit. Have some bloody self respect.”

“I’m not desperate, you git. And Theodore isn’t an arrogant prick. There’s nothing wrong with having a little bit of pride. It’s not like you see him going around bragging about how amazing he is. If you’re going to talk about arrogant pricks, talk about Cormac. Or Draco even.”

“Whatever. That still doesn’t excuse his behavior towards you. I don’t understand why you insist on embarrassing yourself when he clearly has no interest in you. But he’s too much of a coward to say anything.”

“Oh for the love of- Theodore doesn’t owe anyone anything. Me included. I do the things I do because I can and I want to, and quite frankly it isn’t anyone else’s business but my own. So why don’t you two get your heads out of your own arses and stop worrying about me, and stop worrying about Theodore.”

With that, Theo listened as your footsteps slowly got quieter as you stomped away, your words ringing in his head.

Theo had never been in love before. But in that moment, he was beginning to see the appeal. Fuck that was hot as hell.

For Theo, it all spiraled down from there as he finally began to see you. Really see you. And not just as some girl who had a silly crush on him.

It started with the notes. He hadn’t noticed before, but it wasn’t just him that you’d slip a note to in the hallway. After one particularly difficult transfiguration exam, Theo watched as you dropped a note with a chocolate candy attached into the bags of your friends.

Another day, he arrived to potions early to find you carefully setting up his station as he hovered in the doorway. After class, he didn’t rush out like he normally would and instead watched as you quietly slipped an extra copy of your notes to a student he knew struggled with the class.

And while you weren’t exactly blowing kisses to all of your friends across the Great Hall, Theo began to notice the way you didn’t hesitate to throw your arms around your friends, hugging them tightly when you got excited. Or grasping onto a hand as you wandered through Hogsmeade, arms swinging in carefree bliss.

It was about a month after Theo had begun his silent observations that he began to feel it. The slow pull away as your presence began to fade from his life. He almost didn’t notice at first. It had been about a week since he’d last found a note in his bag, or parcel waiting for him on his seat. You still smiled brightly at him if your eyes met from across the Great Hall, but now that he thought about it, Theo couldn’t remember the last time you’d blown a kiss his way.

It all came to a head the day Theo walked into History of Magic to see one of your friends sitting next to you in his usual seat, chattering away.

“Nice mate, they finally get the message?” Mattheo asks with a grin, elbowing him in the ribs.

Theo remained silent as he followed his friend to a seat in the back, eyes not leaving the spot where he should be sitting.

It continued on like this for what Theo thought was eternity. Salazar he missed you. Weeks passed filled with sleepless nights where he would stare at the ceiling contemplating where he had gone wrong. At the very beginning really, he thought dryly, remembering his initial feelings of agitation and annoyance. He wished he could go back and give himself a good smack upside the head.

The day Theo passed you in the hall and you didn’t even spare him a passing glance was the day Theo finally broke.

“Lorenzo.” He said, slamming the door of their dormitory open, startling his roommate.

“Theodore?”

Theo glares at the use of the name.

“You’re the romantic type. How do I do it?” Theo asked as he stomped his way over to his bed.

With a bemused look, Enzo swings around to look at his roommate, wondering if one of the ghosts had somehow possessed him.

“You want to know. How to do romance?” Enzo asks slowly, not fully believing he’d heard his friend correctly. Theo was probably one of the most emotionally detached people he’d ever met.

“Yes. Y/n. I want to make it up to her.”

"I thought we didn't like her?" Enzo said, growing more concerned for his friend's mental state by the minute.

"We didn't. But now we do, and I want to make things right."

Enzo blinked. Oh this was not going to be easy.

As you sat in the court yard with a group of your friends, textbooks in hand as you attempted to study for the charms test the next day, your eyes flickered momentarily as a sea of green wandered by. Quickly you look away before your eyes could meet Theo’s and you try to turn your attention back to your friend’s idle chatter.

It had been what? A month since you’d stopped actively seeking out the boy’s attention. Maybe more. And you missed him. His sarcastic smiles and pretty eyes that seemed to be fixed in a permanent glare.

But you were also tired. Mostly tired of the snarky comments. “Have some self respect.” “So desperate.” The voices of your classmates echoed in your head, and eventually you began to draw back. You knew he’d noticed. You’d seen his eyebrows furrow in confusion that day you’d let your friend sit beside you in class. A pang of guilt washing over you. But it’s not like he showed any signs of wanting things to go back to the way they were. So you simply stayed away. Maybe that’s what he’d wanted all along.

Your thoughts followed you as you eventually made your way back to your dormitory, wanting nothing more than to wrap yourself up in a warm blanket and disappear. As you approach your bed however, you make out something that definitely wasn’t there when you’d left that morning. A gorgeous bouquet of little white flowers wrapped in thick brown paper, tied off with a silky emerald green ribbon. Stamped on the corner of one of the brown folds, the letters TN shown at you in gold curls.

“Oh those are beautiful!” Your roommate gasps when she sees the flowers. “Lily of the valley! Those can symbolize renewal ya know. Usually they’re given as like, an apology of sorts, or if someone wants to start over.” She tells you. Ever the herbology buff. “Who are they from?”

A smile grows on your lips as her words sink in and you press the flowers close to your chest.

“Just a special friend,” you reply.

After all the months of Theo's coldness towards you, you'd never quite allowed yourself to truly believe the boy would ever return your affection, but maybe things were beginning to look up.

Over the course of the next several days, you begin to notice little things that had Theodore’s name written all over them.

After the charms exam the following day, you find a note of encouragement written in Theo’s familiar scrawl dropped in your bag along with a bag of your favorite toffees. How he’d managed to get it there without you noticing was beyond you.

There were little things too. Your stations in herbology and astronomy were always set up and waiting for you when you walked into class. The book on ancient runes that you’d been searching for showed up on your bedside table. (You weren’t sure how he was doing that either, but you weren’t about to question it.) And there always seemed to be a comfortable smirk on Theodore’s face whenever your eyes wandered over to where he sat with his friends, eyes seemingly boring into you.

Now, you sat quietly in your own little nook of the library, quill in hand as you scribbled away at your ancient runes essay, the book Theo left you being quite helpful.

You were happy he'd found his way back into your life, happier still that he was actually making a point to be included in your life.

“You don’t mind do you?” A voice asks, startling you and causing ink to splatter against the parchment.

With shocked eyes, you look up to see Theodore standing next your table as if your thoughts had summoned him there. He sets his books down, frowning at your now ruined paper.

With a flick of his wand, the mess is gone.

“Sorry bout that,” he mutters, sitting down across from you.

You blink, not entirely convinced you’re not hallucinating.

“You know, I remember you being much more talkative,” he says, a sly smirk reaching across his face as you realize you’ve yet to say anything to the boy.

“I remember you being significantly less talkative,” you blurt out before quickly covering your mouth with your hand in horror.

To your relief, the boy in front of you lets out a low laugh.

"Fair enough. See you've been liking the book," he says, gesturing towards the open text.

"Oh yeah, I've been meaning to say something, thank you."

"Don't worry bout it. I never said thank you for all the things you did. Probably should've." He replies, looking down as he pulls out his own quill and parchment. "I am sorry by the way."

"For?" You ask, head tilting to the side in curiosity.

"Everything. Or for doing nothing is probably more accurate," he says, flipping open his text book.

You can tell that he's nervous as he fidgets with the corners of the book's pages, and you desperately want to ease the tension between the two of you.

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as you debate whether or not to say anything more, or go back to your essay. Finally, you look up at the boy that you had been chasing after for all these months, and remind yourself that he had actually been the one to go through all the trouble of seeking you out tonight.

Gathering your courage, you open your mouth to speak. "Theodore?"

"Yes, Bella?" he replies, eyes carefully following the lines of next.

"Would you like to join me in Hogsmeade this weekend?"

His eyes snap up at this, and you see the familiar hint of red make it's way into his cheeks once more.

"Only if I can have my seat back in History of Magic." The boy replies.

"I think I can have that arranged."

Hi hi hi! I hope this lives up to all of your hopes and dreams, anon 🫶🏽

[emeritusemeritus]

Charming Witches [Fred Weasley]

Title: Charming Witches [Fred Weasley]

Pairing: PregnantWife!Reader x Fred Weasley, background Hermione X Ron.

Timeline: Set after canon (Fred lives!)

Summary: Ron has an embarrassing issue and unluckily for him, Fred is the only one that can help.

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, babies, established relationships. Sexual references throughout. Fred has a bit of a breeding kink- shock. Just a silly little drabble I couldn’t get out of my mind. Fred is a bit mean and sarcastic to Ron.

Word count: 1.6k

"You're, you know... well, sort of, um."

"You'll get there eventually Ronald," Fred jokes with a straight face, half listening to his brother's whispered fumbles whilst he pours himself and his wife a drink, not bothering to offer his youngest brother one. If Fred had even bothered to look at Ron's face, he'd have seen he was as pink in the cheeks as a bottle of love potion, his blush so vivid that he looked ready to erupt with a face full of dragon pox any moment.

Ron clears his throat, trying again, as he casts a nervous glance around the Burrow's kitchen, checking no one was hearing this. He didn't know why he'd chosen Fred of all people to have this conversation with, in theory George would have been a much better choice but he didn't have the same 'qualifications' as his twin, seeing that you and Fred had been together for absolutely years.

"Well, umm," he freezes under Fred's quick but glance, silently telling him to spit it out. "Well you and y/n, you're in sync aren't you... Sexually?"

Whatever Fred was expecting to hear eventually tumble out of his brother's mouth was not even close to the reality and he can't stop his eyebrows from shooting halfway up his forehead instinctively in disbelief.

"Did my very pregnant wife give it away?" He snarks, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of the beer he'd poured, openly enjoying the discomfort his brother was radiating. "That might have been your first clue."

Ron somehow looks paler underneath all the blushing and Fred is revelling in his ability to make his brother squirm.

"Well, yeah I suppose," Ron mumbles, beginning to get defensive and deeply regretting opening up to the trickier twin.

"Calm down Ronald," Fred says, "you and Granger having bedroom troubles?"

"No!" Ron bites back a little too quickly but his resolve breaks under a few seconds of Fred's probing gaze, arms folded in an unconscious power stance. "Maybe."

He's quiet again for a few moments and Fred is uncharacteristically patient whilst he waits for Ron to collect his thoughts.

"How many times would you say is normal, like in a week?"

"Don't know if there's a 'normal' Ronniekins," Fred says with a shrug. "Most days and twice on a Sunday?"

Though he hides it this time, Fred revels in the look of utter horror Ron's eyes convey and it's like he can see the cogs in his brain working on overdrive, emitting smoke as they crumble and break. Evidently, his answer was light years away from what Ron had hoped for. He knows that his wife being ready to pop at any second only helps Ron believe his words and he mentally thanks Godric Gryffindor himself for the overly fortunate timing.

"Don't think it matters mate really; as long as you're both expecting about the same." This time, Fred actually thinks he's being reassuring.

"She just wants to read all the bloody time, even in bed! It's like I'm a bloody afterthought."

"Have you even met your girlfriend?"

This time it's Fred who pauses when he meets the icy glare of his younger brother. He sighs and a slightly awkward silence falls between the pair as they both try to think of how to fix whatever was going on in Ron's mind, hoping that two head were better than one.

"You two alright?"

Ron jumps out of his skin when he hears your slightly concerned greeting upon seeing the two brothers, Fred especially, in near silence.

"Don't tell me you forgot I was here," you joke to Ron, walking over to Fred as he holds out your waiting drink. "Been your sister in law for five years! Plus the bump makes me pretty memorable," you add with a smile.

"I'll say," Fred says with a wink, the cheeky glint in his eyes ever more sparkling as he looks at your bulging tummy, unashamedly ogling your pregnant form. You gently nudged him, silently telling him to be quiet but as you do so, you catch a slightly glare aimed at your husband from Ron.

"Am I interrupting? " You ask outright, sensing tension.

"No," says Fred almost immediately.

"A bit," Ron admits, cringing slightly before he lets out a loud yelp, having been smacked upside the back of the head by his older brother for his disrespect. He grumbles slightly under his breath, absently rubbing the back of his head where Fred's hand had connected to him and let's put a deep sigh.

"You're a girl," he says, averting his eyes anywhere except directly on your own.

Fred snickers at Ron's feeble and clumsy attempt at starting the conversation but opts to take a long swig of his beverage to avoid anymore laughter spilling out, though his delight still shines through his eyes.

"Only when it's not a full moon," you jest, trying to slice through the awkwardness Ron is emitting.

"Forget it, you're as bad as he is."

"Firstly I'm offended," you say, reaching out for his arm gently as you feel his begin to pull away, ignoring your husband's opposition. "Secondly, yes I'm a girl... go on."

"Well," he pauses, gathering courage, long ginger lashes covering his shy eyes that still raise no further than your ankles, "say Fred suddenly didn't want sex."

"Wouldn't happen."

"Fred shush."

"Well... say suddenly he wanted to read at nighttime over having sex."

"Again, wouldn't happen."

"Fred!" You hush him again, this time more firmly.

"How would you go about trying to, you know, fix it."

You were certain you'd never seen Ron this vividly pink in the cheeks before, he looked like he'd been decorated up to display in Umbridge's office.

"That's the problem? Hermione wants to read instead of sex?" You ask, not really seeing the big issue, but trying to say it gently so that you didn't spook him.

He nods, "but it's all the time," he adds, justifying his gripe.

"Well," you say, lowering yourself into Arthur's seat at the head of the kitchen table only a few feet away, unable to stand much longer. "Play her at her own game."

"Eh?" The brothers ask in sync, their faces scrunched into an almost identical confused expression. You simply shrug.

"Make yourself less available to her, pull back a bit," you say, taking a sip of your drink to wet your lips. "Start reading in bed just like she does, act like you're not interested in just sex."

"So I act like I'm not bothered even though I am?" He asks, still not following what you're saying.

"Sort of," you say, trying to find a better way of wording it.

"Reading's always been her favourite thing to do hasn't it? Join in on it. I'd bet on my life that she has a fantasy of you in bed shirtless reading beside her. Stop making advances, let her come to you."

"That's actually quite clever," he says after a few moments of consideration.

"It's been known."

"Shirtless?" He asks with a frown, seemingly fixating on that point.

You chuckle nodding, "well you have to still appeal to her, you don't want it to just be a study session do you?"

"Right, right," he says with a nod, a slight smile returning to his face before it dramatically falls away in an almost comedic move.

"I don't have a book."

"What do you mean you don't have a book?" Fred says in a flabbergasted manner, earning a slight but unconscious raise of your eyebrow. Though you didn't comment on the irony of his words considering you couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him so much as skim the daily prophet.

"I don't really have one," Ron mumbles quietly, "unless my quidditch annual counts."

"It doesn't," you say firmly.

"So I need a book," Ron says firmly, as if he was cementing the plan in his mind, nodding along with his thoughts until he finally makes eye contact. "Thanks y/n," he says with a smile and a nod of his head before he walks away, a bounce in his step.

"Think it's actually gonna work?" Fred asks as you pry yourself out of the chair and walk to stand next to him as you place your empty cup in the sink.

You let out a little chortle and shrug, "well if it doesn't, at least Hermione can read in peace."

Laughter bursts out of Fred and he pulls you close, bump nestled between you as he delights in your words, realising you had absolutely no idea if the plan would work.

Later that evening when everyone was preparing to leave the Burrow after another wonderful family dinner, Ron pulls you and Fred to one side before he left, away from the eyes and ears of everyone else.

"Thanks again for earlier," he says, clearly feeling more at ease about his issue. You smile warmly in reply, happy to help.

"No problem little brother," Fred beams, as if it was him that had offered any advice.

"Oi Ron," you call out quietly to get his attention as he turns to leave. With a smile, you reach down into the bag on your shoulder and pull out an item you'd gleefully searched for in Fred and George's old bedroom after the conversation. "Just incase my advice doesn't work."

Ron frowns reaching for the item you were handing him, a frown that only deepens as he reads the title of the book he was now holding. Fred's laughter is sudden and booming as his eyes land on the once familiar item that had him cracking up laughing, realising instantly what it was.

Twelve fail-safe ways to charm witches.

"Oh piss off."

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[chocochannie]

Lorenzo Berkshire headcanons

Such a sweetheart, most people are wondering why he's friends with his group, but he loves them more than anything

Doesn't have very good grades but will always help with your assignments when you ask him

Knows all the gossip in hogwarts

Clumsy

Bit of a flirt

Loves parties

Pranks everyone, adores the weasley twins

Dances every chance he gets

One time, he took Theodore dancing in the rain cause he saw he was in a bad mood, surprisingly it cheered him up a lot

Sings in the shower

Absolutely loves giving gifts, most of them are handmade

Sneaks out at night to the kitchens

Lightly hits Draco on the head when he gets too cocky

Youngest in the group

Favourite season is summer

Likes having matching bracelets with someone

Very clingy sometimes

Passes notes in class with Mattheo and Pansy

Always there when you need him

Plays quidditch

Spends a lot of time making his hair in the morning

Friends with Hermione

You'll most likely find him near Black Lake

Romantic

Never fails to make his friends smile

Dog person

Masterlist

[fangisms]

wish it on your worst enemy

A/N: if you see me butchering british slang 🤨 it never happened 🤫

Pairings: George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your worst nighmare takes a nasty spill during a scrimmage because he was distracted by you. It’s only right you go and check on him. 1.9k words

Warnings: violence by bludger, description of injury, cursing, lovesick losers, enemies to lovers???? ���enemies’ to lovers but really idiots to lovers

George taking a bludger to the face was not the kind of news you would have liked to wake up to. Something had gone wrong during an emergency weekend scrimmage. He was laughing at something Fred said or shouting at Ron or maybe he was just distracted by his own thoughts and hadn't noticed the pesky bugger barreling towards him with every intent to bludgeon him unconscious. So he took a nasty spill from a considerable height and has been passed out in the hospital wing since six forty-five.

You rush down the hallway in your pajamas, cursing under your breath, face scrunched into a scowl, dead set on your target. Bloody quidditch. A few first years watched you nearly trample a group of girls in the hall. They were traumatized. It was bad.

"He's gone daft! This is absolutely mental—nothing is that distracting!" you shout at Ron who is actively trying to defend himself against you. He stopped you at the door because he heard you storming down the hall a full minute before you arrived.

"Calm down! He’s still alive isn't he?" he says.

"Not for long if I have anything to say about it—"

"Oi," Fred shouts, lounging in a rickety chair beside George's cot, "would you wait 'till he's at least cognizant to threaten him?"

"You!" you fume, "why didn't you warn him!" Ron has given up trying to stop you at this point. You push past him, headed straight for Fred.

"I did! I shouted for him three times. The git was proper distracted. Must've been dreaming of something really special." He winks at you, and you think you could ring his neck right about now.

"I think you mean someone," Ron teases.

Both of them. You'll ring both of their necks.

"What the hell are you two chittering about?" you hiss.

"Oh, nothing at all, your graciousness. We'll leave you two lovebirds"—Fred clears his throat, standing and nodding to his youngest brother—"I mean friends... to it."

You grumble and flip them both off as they leave. You plop down into the chair just in time for Madam Pomfrey to come fluff the pillow propped beneath his left leg. She catches your weary glance over his limp body.

"I wouldn't worry too much, dearie. Nasty spills are what young men are made for. He just needs a little rest. Time to recover," she coos, smiling up at you from the base of the cot. You briefly worry the back of your neck before managing a nod.

"Thank you, madam. I appreciate it."

She grabs a quilt from the stack she had brought to his bedside and flattens it across his torso. You tug the side to even it out, a hitch in your breath when your fingers brush his cold knuckles.

"You know, when I attended Hogwarts, the quidditch boys were all the rage. My boyfriend was a Beater as well—"

"Oh, George—! He's not my..."

"He was wonderful. But of course, he was always getting into spills. It drove me mad to see the boy I loved in so much pain. In the end, I told him he'd have to be more careful or I'd call it quits. He told me he had to focus on his career anyway." She stands silently for a moment. Solemnly.

"That's terrible. I'm so sorry."

"You live and you learn. Boys will be boys, I suppose." Out of her trance, she shrugs and gestures to the clipboard sat on the desk. You hand it to her.

"May I ask... what became of him?"

"He retired from Quidditch very young. Only a few years in and, bam: traumatic brain injury. Some people can't be helped!"

You can't help but snicker at her frankness. She smiles, pats your shoulder, and sighs.

"You just have to love ‘em while you can."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

"Of course, dear. You let me know when he wakes up." She scuttles away.

You take the silence of the moment to look at him. While you can. You prop your elbows on the edge of the cot and rest your head in your hands.

"Not sure how I feel about all of that information. Not sure how much I trust that advice." You tell him like it’s a secret, nose scrunched like there’s anyone else within earshot.

How fragile he seems laid flat atop this plastic wrapped bed. How rich the watercolor purples and yellows of his bruise. Down his neck, out across his jaw. The subtle swoop of his lashes, the rosy bridge of his nose. Then down to his bird bone fingers, your heart skips at the thought of tracing over the delicate skin.

He twitches, and you startle and sit pin straight. His muscles relax, though yours refuse to. You notice a rip at the hem of his folded quidditch robes and perk up.

Eight minutes later, you’re tugging just the edge of his robe into your lap while the rest is feathered out across the linoleum floor. Your emergency sewing kit is perched on your other thigh as you thread your needle and begin stitching.

George blinks the ache from his eyes, finally awake just to find you with a thin string caught between your teeth, your brow furrowed, and your fingers pinching fabric together. He reaches up and presses the heel of his palm to his forehead.

"Thank Merlin I wore something under my uniform today—"

"George!"

The sewing kit clatters to the floor along with the robe and thread. Hopefully that needle will be easy to find. But you smile for now, and it’s one of the sweetest things he’s ever seen. No wonder he took a bludger’s hit. You’re bloody distracting. Even when you’re not around.

“I’ll go get Madam Pomfrey, she said—"

"Were you... stitching up my quidditch robes?” he says, just a hint of teasing in his hoarse voice.

You look down and gape at the mess.

"There was a tear in—when you fell, the bottom—there was a rip! I had a sewing kit on me, I was just... helping a friend."

He blinks. If he wasn’t completely crushing on you before, it’s safe to say that was the nail in the coffin.

"That's adorable," he warbles.

You look cross and put your hands on your hips and scoff.

“Well, you can’t very well play with a rip in your uniform!"

"No. No, of course not,” he mumbles, “Silly me.”

Usually, you’d mock him. You’d call him names and tease him for getting knocked on his ass by and inanimate object. But that smirk has you incapacitated. He's making this very difficult for you.

"Well!” he chirps, “Don’t let me bother you, I’ll just be lying here."

"But Pomfrey—"

"I'll live. My mind is alive, the neurons are firing. All is well, it can wait,” he says, “Please.”

Goddamn you, George Weasley. You muster up a pathetic sigh and sit back on the stool, getting back to work on his robe.

But he’s back to grinning like a fool, admiring the way your tongue pokes the corner of your mouth when you focus. It’s incredibly endearing.

"You're very beautiful."

Daggers. “Shut up.”

He chuckles. "What? I find you to be very agreeable, poppet."

"Gee, thanks, Weasley,” you huff, “Do you want this stitch fixed or not—"

"Don’t get your dear panties in a twist, I’m only trying to compliment you. Would you just take it while I’m too ill to make fun of you properly?"

But he finds you very agreeable. And now you know that out loud. More than an inkling. More than friends. Oh, he’s awful.

"Quit staring."

"Sincerest apologies."

You roll your eyes and glare at him while the needle punctures the thick fabric.

"Why don’t I just tell Madam Pomfrey—"

"And ruin a moment? Come on, let me get a good look at you, you're the reason I’m in this mess,” George mumbles.

"Me?"

"Yes, you! Your stupid face won't get out of my head."

"Be serious, Weasley—"

"I am! You’ve cursed me, poppet, can't think straight unless I’m thinking of you."

"That's not fair!" you say.

"No, it’s not," he huffs, "I love you."

Shock. From both of you. More than friends, and more than a simple crush, now. But love. Love, for Merlin’s sake! Do you love him?

"You're being idiotic—”

"No. I'm not. I've thought long and hard about it, and I love you, and you can't change my mind—"

"George, quit it,” you say.

"Everyone knows it, poppet, I adore you, and—"

"I love you, too, George, now would you shut up!"

Well, then. Secrets out, no holds barred.

And he’s smiling all smug to himself, even though his left side is a bit swollen. And you’re back to fiddling with the stitched up tear in his robe. You’ve got crazy eyes. He thinks you might murder the stitched up tear in his robe. Or confess your love to it.

You groan.

"Stop smiling like that. You look crazy."

He shrugs. "I am crazy…"

"Do not—"

"… Crazy in love."

"I hate you"

"I know."

You look at him. And he’s looking back at you terribly fondly. As fragile as he seems now, he feels invincible. You fold up his fixed uniform and set it on the desk.

"George,” you sigh, “you have to stop getting hurt."

He nods curtly. "Okay. I’m sorry."

You squint at him, suspicious and expecting just a little pushback.

"... It's... okay, I just worry about you. I don't like seeing you like this." The stool scrapes against the floor, and George reaches for your hand.

"I know you don't, poppet. It won't happen again,” he says.

"Good. And if it does, then—"

"Then I’ll quit the team.”

"What!"

"I’ll do it. I’ll quit for you. I’ve got other things to worry about anyway. More important things than some silly sport where balls fly at your face."

Your eyes sparkle. For him, and it makes him absolutely giddy. He presses his thumb to the back of your hand and cocks a brow.

"Now,” he sighs, “would you come here and give me my hard won kiss?"

"Oh, so you won a kiss.”

"Nobly so. Dutifully and honorably. Nothing less than the best for your highness."

"Fine, whatever, only because you think I’m beautiful.”

You lean over his arm, trying not to nudge any of his tender injuries. While you’re being so careful, he’s straining for your kiss, jutting his neck out and shuffling under the quilt. He grunts at the overexertion, and you sit back before he gets his kiss.

"Nope! I’m getting Pomfrey!"

"One peck! Swear, I won’t move an inch!"

"Madam, he's awake!”

"Wonderful news, darling!" she calls from the other side of the wing, preparing a jug of water and a two glasses.

"You're horrible, and you torture me. You don’t love me at all, witch!" he whines, voice low

"On the contrary, I love you a good deal too much, which is why I’m so horrible."

He grumbles something under his breath.

Then chirps: "Be my girlfriend.”

You fold your hands in your lap. "If I must"

"And let me be your boyfriend,” he pleads.

"Well, what else would you be?"

"Your servant, your house pet. A footstool if you needed it.”

“George Weasley, you’re a fool,” you tease, reaching over to fix a strand of hair behind his ear.

"Yes, I am. A fool who loves you very much.”

“Sap.”

masterlist

[t3l3vangelism]

NEW BOT ALRRT

new bots based on 8 songs that have been on repeat for me

note : just a small fyi, these are heavily, HEAVILY inspired by my lovers @voidsuites and @pearlzier!!! i meant to make wayyyyy more but like half of the songs I listen to on the daily are essentially about the same thing 😞

DEAN WINCHESTER ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ Sarah by Mojave 3

dean had a part in raising sam , but he knew he was entirely responsible for raising his youngest sibling, user. so when sam runs off to college and user tries to follow, dean pushed them away. years later, they reunite and dean still feels a little bitter that they left him behind.

SAM WINCHESTER ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ California by Lana Del Rey

sam finally found solitude in someone else’s arms for the first time since jess passed. but when user starts asking too many questions about what he does for a living, sam decides to break it off for their safety whether they like it or not. months pass and sam finds himself back in california and dean heavily injured on a rough hunt. the nearest hospital is too far, but user is just down the block.

JOSH WASHINGTON ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ No one noticed by The Marias

after beth and hannah disappeared, josh formed a dependent relationship with user when they were the only one to show up in his time of need. now that everyone has agreed to return to his cabin for the one year anniversary of his sisters, josh can hardly stand anyone else holding user’s attention.

THEODORE NOTT ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ It’s good to be in love by Frou Frou

theo and user have been friends for years, user was really the only person he even considered a friend. over time, theo found himself growing feelings for user. however, user in in love with cedric. theo is forced to watch from afar, even growing distant from his friend until he accidentally confronted in them in the slytherin common room.

CARMEN BERZATTO ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ Lover, you should’ve come over by Jeff Buckley

while carmen is trapped inside of his restaurant’s fridge, he goes through emotional turmoil thinking about the argument he got into with his partner the night before. richie obviously sensed the tension and tries to confront carmen while he can. his confrontation turns into a battle of fury until richie steps away, leaving carmen to scream against the metal door in front of him. he doesn’t know he’s alone until he’s faced with silence, he decides to break it by calling for the one person he hurt the most. he just hopes he wasn’t too deaf, dumb, and blind to lose them entirely.

JOEL MILLER ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ Here in California by Kate Wolfe

joel’s first real world lesson was taught by his mother; don’t fall in love too quickly before you learn to know yourself. as he got older, he realized how important his mother’s advice really was. but when the virus hit, it seemed to get lost in the translation. years later, joel has found himself forming a wordless bond with user, a stranger ellie had forced him to help when tess was still around. but now they were in tommy’s little community, spending their first night together in front of a dim fire and joel feels the need to enforce his mother’s word.

FRED WEASLEY ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ Chemtrails Over The Country Club by Lana Del Rey

fred basks in nature during the last few days of his honeymoon with user.

SYDNEY ADAMU ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ flamin hot cheetos by Clairo

sydney and user sit on the front steps of her apartment building, enjoying the crisp air of night. sydney rants about anything and everything she can about the recent hectic events since the opening of the bear. but when she realizes how intently user is staring at her, sydney’s mind once again wanders into questioning if the nature of their relationship is more than just friendly.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

The Weasleys Aren't Great Parents...

I know a lot here love to talk about how the Weasleys were so good to take Harry in and all that... But the truth is, the parenting skills of Molly and Arthur Weasley are questionable at best.

I'm not saying they don't love their kids and Harry — they do, and they do so honestly. I'm just here to say they aren't actually a good example of parenting.

Like, when fans talk about the Weasleys what I usually see is either treating them like they are a perfect example of a family or unfair bashing. So, while I definitely believe that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley love their kids, this post showcases where their parenting skills are lacking...

So, the Weasleys, to Harry, seem like the perfect example of a happy, loving family. Now, I'm not saying there isn't love there, but the family dynamics we see aren't great, to put it lightly. Harry just has no reference for anything better.

Children Running Away

The first thing I want to mention here is that all Weasley children leave the Burrow and their parents the first chance they get.

Bill goes to work for Gringotts in Egypt.

Charlie goes to tame dragons in Romania.

Percy, well, Percy is a whole can of worms right there. But once his parents shun him for being more successful than his father in the ministry, he doesn't look back.

Fred and George leave Hogwarts in the middle of their seventh year and move out of home then, before their even done with school.

I don't think that's normal. This is what we see in houses where there is mistreatment of children, so they don't want to stay any moment longer than necessary. Because all of this, what all of them did, was running away from home.

Each of these Weasleys was seventeen — maybe eighteen when he chose to leave (sometimes the country). This is running away, even if they still talk to their parents, they did rub away from living under the same roof.

This already suggests to me something unhealthy is going on there.

favoritism

Any child psychologist would tell you one of the worst things a parent could do is pick favorites amongst their children. All children, favored or not, suffer from it.

And Mr. And Mrs. Weasley.... well, they showcase favoritism constantly, here is an example from Order of the Phoenix:

“Get him red and gold to match his badge,” said George, smirking. “Match his what?” said Mrs. Weasley absently, rolling up a pair of maroon socks and placing them on Ron’s pile. “His badge,” said Fred, with the air of getting the worst over quickly. “His lovely shiny new prefect’s badge.” Fred’s words took a moment to penetrate Mrs. Weasley’s preoccupation about pajamas. “His . . . but . . . Ron, you’re not. . . ?” Ron held up his badge. Mrs. Weasley let out a shriek just like Hermione’s. “I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That’s everyone in the family!” “What are Fred and I, next-door neighbors?” said George indignantly, as his mother pushed him aside and flung her arms around her youngest son.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 163)

Molly is so glad to have prefects in the family, that she actually ignores the fact Fred and George aren't prefects and are her kids. George actually calls her out on it, except she isn't actually listening to him l. No, she pushes him aside. This treatment is insane, and I don't blame them for up and leaving the moment they turned seventeen.

This favoritism is seen more, this is from Chamber of Secrets:

“Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to —” All three of Mrs. Weasley’s sons were taller than she was, but they cowered as her rage broke over them. “Beds empty! No note! Car gone — could have crashed — out of my mind with worry — did you care? — never, as long as I’ve lived — you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy —” “Perfect Percy,” muttered Fred. “YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY’S BOOK!” yelled Mrs. Weasley, prodding a finger in Fred’s chest. “You could have died, you could have been seen, you could have lost your father his job —” It seemed to go on for hours. Mrs. Weasley had shouted herself hoarse before she turned on Harry, who backed away. “I’m very pleased to see you, Harry, dear,” she said. “Come in and have some breakfast.”

(Chamber of Secrets, page 38)

Prefect Percy is better than Fred and George and they should learn from him and be more like him, according to Mrs. Weasley. This sort of comparison between children is really harmful to their development and is frowned upon by most. Definitely by me.

Not to mention how Harry is definitely a favorite of hers, so much so he does not get shouted at for the same crime, but get's food. That is honestly the bare minimum she can do for him considering...

Harry's Abuse

The Weasleys are aware of Harry's abuse. They are made aware of it time and time again, and with all their love for Harry — they do nothing more than give him food when he asks. I don't think I need to explain why this is terrible.

“I don’t blame you, dear,” she assured Harry, tipping eight or nine sausages onto his plate. “Arthur and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were saying we’d come and get you ourselves if you hadn’t written back to Ron by Friday. But really” (she was now adding three fried eggs to his plate), “flying an illegal car halfway across the country — anyone could have seen you —” She flicked her wand casually at the dishes in the sink, which began to clean themselves, clinking gently in the background. “It was cloudy, Mum!” said Fred. “You keep your mouth closed while you’re eating!” Mrs. Weasley snapped.“They were starving him, Mum!” said George. “And you!” said Mrs. Weasley, but it was with a slightly softened expression that she started cutting Harry bread and buttering it for him.

(Chamber of Secrets, page 39)

George here outright tells her Harry was being starved — this goes ignored. When Harry writes to her to send him food, she sends it, but doesn't ask him why he isn't being fed:

She had no idea that Harry was not following the diet at all. The moment he had got wind of the fact that he was expected to survive the summer on carrot sticks, Harry had sent Hedwig to his friends with pleas for help … Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had obliged with a sack full of his own homemade rock cakes. (Harry hadn’t touched these; he had had too much experience of Hagrid’s cooking.) Mrs. Weasley, however, had sent the family owl, Errol, with an enormous fruitcake and assorted meat pies.

(Goblet of Fire, page 28)

No, she sent him food but didn't bother doing anything to help a child out of a clearly abusive situation. Not even asking why he isn't getting enough food.

Arthur Weasley isn't any better. He knows just as much as Molly and even met Harry's pleasant relatives:

“Harry said good-bye to you,” he said. “Didn’t you hear him?” “It doesn’t matter,” Harry muttered to Mr. Weasley. “Honestly, I don’t care.” Mr. Weasley did not remove his hand from Harry’s shoulder. “You aren’t going to see your nephew till next summer,” he said to Uncle Vernon in mild indignation. “Surely you’re going to say good-bye?”

(Goblet of Fire, page 48)

He acts as if the Dursleys are normal. As if a child saying their caretakers wouldn't care he wasn't there isn't cause for alarm. No, Arthur Weasley just thought it impolite and odd, but not enough to actually do something to help Harry. Just annoy Uncle Vernon.

Blaming Kids For Things Not Their Fault

“You?” she said, catching her teacup as it scampered happily away across the desk on four sturdy little willow-patterned legs and replacing it in front of her. “Why should I be worried about you?” “When Mum’s next letter finally gets through Umbridge’s screening process,” said Ron bitterly, now holding his cup up while its frail legs tried feebly to support its weight, “I’m going to be in deep trouble. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s sent a Howler again.” “But —” “It’ll be my fault Fred and George left, you wait,” said Ron darkly. “She’ll say I should’ve stopped them leaving, I should’ve grabbed the ends of their brooms and hung on or something. . . . Yeah, it’ll be all my fault. . . .”

(Order of the Pheonix, page 679)

After Fred and George leave Hogwarts, Ron tells Hermione she should worry about him because he would suffer their mother's ire. He speaks about it as if it's a regular occurrence. Like he regularly gets blamed for Feed and George's mishaps when the twins aren't there.

This is incredibly unfair to Ron, Fred, and George. There is no reason Ron should fear his parent's response for something he had no control over.

Conclusions

As I stated above, I don't think Arthur and Molly Weasley are abusive or neglectful or that they don't love their kids. They are far from perfect, loving, and dotting parents I see them sometimes portrayed as. Neither are they as awful as I sometimes see them. Like many characters in this series, they are more complex than that.

[starlingflight]

Prompt: Sirius being a massive Hinny shipper, please and thank you ♥️♥️♥️

This was supposed to be a drabble. Read below or on AO3 here:

He had first noticed it in the summer.

At first, Sirius had thought Harry to have a particularly strong affection for Crookshanks, a sentiment that Sirius only found wholly sensible and had not questioned further.

It had taken a few weeks to realise it was not the charming bandy-legged cat that Harry’s eyes were subconsciously following. Likewise, the cat wasn’t the recipient of an increasingly frequent number of silent, secretive shared smiles whenever someone was unfortunate enough to do something that garnered Harry’s amusement; no, the honour of that bestowment fell to the equally charming — and equally ginger — young lady who had devoted a great deal of her summer to entertaining Crookshanks.

Again, Sirius couldn’t find anything to disagree with in the object of Harry’s attention, indeed, his good opinion of Ginny had been formed immediately upon meeting her, when, one balmy evening, at the very beginning of summer, she had come bounding into Grimmauld Place’s dank kitchen, flashed a bright grin at Sirius across the old wooden table and declared, “It’s nice to meet you, but I don’t think much of your family’s choice in interior decoration.”

Sirius’ smile was no longer familiar to him, but it had risen easily at the sentiment. “Was it the house-elf heads that put you off?”

The girl's eyes had widened in alarm; her nose had wrinkled in distaste. “House-elf heads?”

“Ah, so you haven't taken a trip upstairs yet?”

With that scant piece of information, she'd turned on her heel and marched straight back out of the kitchen, a harried-looking Molly Weasley calling “for Heaven's sake, Ginny,” behind her, but Ginny had only continued striding her path, set on inspecting the most gruesome spectacles lining the hallways of Grimmauld Place.

Harry hadn’t arrived at the Order's gloomy headquarters until weeks later. By that time, everyone but Sirius seemed to have accepted the chafing captivity offered by his parents' old house with, if not good humour, a grudging attempt at it.

And then Sirius had found his already-conflicted emotions torn once more as he'd reckoned with exactly what the task James and Lily had charged him with really meant.

Protecting Harry, keeping him safe, giving him enough information to protect himself in the face of direct orders from Dumbledore and the teenaged ire being thrown at him across the dining room table from his beloved Godson; his guilt not eased by the scorn that was being directed at him from a perfect replica of Lily's eyes, ones that silently assured him he'd already failed, otherwise, he wouldn't be in this situation to begin with.

It wasn't a new guilt though, Sirius had been living with it for fourteen years now, and it was certainly a lighter burden than it had been all those interminable days locked up with the Dementors. Though he’d exchanged Azkaban for another prison, one he'd thought he'd escaped at age sixteen, at least there were moments of levity now.

There was the Weasley family's easy affection with one another, and their warmth which seemed to fill the frigid house despite its determination to remain unwelcoming. There were hearty dinners and good conversation, and a sense of community that, while welcome, made Sirius ache for the best friends he would never share a meal with again.

There was also Ginny's bright, unrestrained laughter and the way Harry seemed to seek it out. There was the way his Godson's eyes seemed to soften on the youngest of the Weasleys, an occurrence which accomplished the seemingly impossible task of making all traces of James disappear from his face, leaving only Lily.

If Harry was aware of Ginny’s effect on him, however, he did an excellent job of hiding it. None of Sirius’ thinly veiled attempts at suggestion yielded the desired results.

After one of Molly’s delicious — and uncomfortably filling — meals, Sirius had tried to broach the subject in as delicate a manner as possible.

“Ginny’s very funny,” he’d said quietly to Harry, leaning across the small expanse of table that separated them.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed absently, ducking to avoid the dessert bowl Fred had just summoned, and that had gone soaring wildly towards Harry’s head. “She’s a laugh.”

Without giving the matter any further consideration, Harry pushed his chair back from the table, apparently intent on following Ron, who was already heading for the door, and Sirius, who was glad to see Harry in a rare congenial mood where his friends were concerned, had no heart to try and stop him.

Yet Sirius was only deterred temporarily; house arrest did not offer many opportunities for entertainment, and he seized upon this one.

His next attempt to force the matter occurred just days later.

Molly, persisting in her crusade to wipe away years of rot and decay that Sirius privately thought was likely weaved into the very foundations of the house, had seen fit to direct Harry to clear out an ancient wardrobe in one of the guest bedrooms; Sirius immediately volunteered to join the endeavour.

“I think your mum had a hoarding problem,” Harry informed him, removing a sinister-looking, ghostly white Venetian mask from one of the shelves and tossing it unceremoniously into the rubbish bag awaiting at their feet.

Sirius hummed in agreement. “You know, Ginny made a similar observation — she wasn’t very taken with the decor.”

“I’d think there was something seriously wrong with her if she was.”

“But you don’t,” Sirius prompted with forced nonchalance.

“Don’t what?” Harry frowned down at the pair of ancient — and hideous — buckled shoes he’d just collected from the wardrobe floor.

“You don’t think there’s something seriously wrong with Ginny.”

“No,” Harry replied, brow still furrowed as he turned to look at Sirius directly. “Do you?”

“No, of course not!” Sirius waved away the accusation. “I think she’s a charming girl.”

“Right,” Harry discarded the shoes and began flicking through the dusty garments hanging from the rail.

Sirius waited a moment but no other thoughts came forth. He swallowed a sigh. “And you already agreed she’s funny.”

Harry’s only response to this reminder was a noncommittal hum and Sirius was forced to forge ahead without any assistance from his impervious Godson.

“The prank she played on Ron last night with the fake spider was very amusing.”

In truth, Sirius was being generous with this compliment. While he appreciated Ginny’s dedication to the bit, and her willingness to provoke her mother’s ire, he had some notes on how her practical application could be improved that he planned to share with her later.

“Ron didn’t think so,” Harry replied, giving away nothing of his opinion on the matter. “He made me check every inch of our room three times before he’d go to bed.”

“He needn’t be so worried,” Sirius replied. “Crookshanks is dedicated to the task of keeping the house pest-free.”

Harry shook his head, whether at Sirius’ reassurance or the ghastly acid-green lace robes he’d just removed from the wardrobe, it was impossible to say.

There was no opportunity to ask, for at that moment Molly’s voice came calling from the corridor outside the room, beckoning them down to yet another dinner where Sirius was forced to watch Harry’s eyes wander to Ginny with painful obliviousness.

This pattern continued for the rest of the summer holidays, a period that was woefully short and allowed Sirius no further chance to help Harry reach the obvious conclusion. Indeed, any attempts he did make were met with little more than teenaged grunts and abrupt changes of subject and before Sirius knew it, Harry was boarding the Hogwarts Express, Ginny was swallowed by a group of her friends on the crowded platform and even this simple self-given mission had evaded success.

After that passed interminably long, lonely months locked up in the drafty old house with nothing but the fleeting company of Order members flitting in and out; Sirius’ only constant companion was Kreacher, possibly the only being he considered worse company than a dementor.

Undoubtedly, Sirius had not considered himself overcome with festive spirit in the run-up to Christmas. Nor could he find himself cheerful at the circumstances that brought house guests to him for the holidays, but once it was ascertained that Arthur would survive the terrible attack he’d sustained at the hands — or rather, fangs — of Voldemort’s snake, Sirius could not deny himself glad of the company provided once more by Harry and the Weasley’s.

By the time New Year’s Eve rolled around, Sirius was in a rare state of high spirits.

Grimmauld Place remained stubbornly bleak but the festoons of holly and glittering ribbons he’d draped from every available surface — helped by Ginny who certainly proved she had more of an eye for decoration than most of Sirius’ relatives — went some way to brightening the place up; as did the spectacularly impressive fireworks Fred and George had set off around the house well before the clock had begun to approach midnight.

By chance, a small party had gathered in the kitchen owing to Remus and Tonks’ unexpected early return from a mission, and Kingsley’s appearance with a collection of bottles of Ogden’s, which were quickly passed around the adults.

“I’ll have mine to go,” Sirius said as Kingsley poured him a generous measure of the amber liquid. “I really should make sure Buckbeak’s settled before things get too raucous.”

“I can go,” Harry offered from beside Sirius as he leaned to collect one of the bottles of butterbeer Kingsley had brought for the kids. “I haven’t seen him much since I’ve been back.”

“We’ll come with you,” Hermione offered, popping the cap on her own bottle of butterbeer.

Before Harry could think to respond, he was cut off by a groan from Ron who had been surveying the platter of mince pies, sausage rolls and various other finger foods Molly had just set out on the table. “I was just about to eat,” he protested.

Hermione’s lips pursed in unimpressed exasperation but Sirius was already formulating a plan, prepared to seize an opportunity that had not presented itself since the kids had returned from Hogwarts.

“Ginny can go with you,” he said quickly, eyes fixed on Harry even as he raised his voice loud enough for Ginny to hear from the opposite side of the kitchen where she was presently occupied ensuring Crookshanks didn’t burn his paws as he attempted to bat at the still-whizzing fireworks. “Ginny, could you go and check on Buckbeak for me, please?”

Her response was immediate. She scooped Crookshanks up into her arms as she stood, nodding enthusiastically at the suggestion.

“I can go alone,” Harry protested sullenly. “No one is going to attack me between here and the landing.”

“Of course not,” Sirius agreed, waving away his protests with the hand still clutching his whiskey glass. “But you don’t want to be alone on New Year’s, do you?”

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. “I think I’d survive for ten minutes.”

“Yes,” Sirius continued as Ginny’s form grew closer in his peripheral vision. “But Ginny is excellent with Buckbeak — she’s very good with animals, have you noticed?”

Harry shrugged again. “I suppose.”

Ginny paused her approach to deposit Crookshanks into Hermione’s waiting arms.

“Well, that’s settled then.” Lightly, Sirius nudged Harry towards her. “The two of you will go together.”

Ginny joined them just in time to hear this conclusion; her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I didn’t realise it was a two-person job.”

“Apparently Sirius thinks I need supervision,” Harry informed her.“

“And he chose me to supervise?” Ginny frowned in horror. “I’m disappointed in myself for giving a false impression of responsibility.”

Right on cue, Sirius watched as her eyes met Harry’s and identical smirks bloomed on both their faces.

“Come on,” Harry inclined his head towards the door. “We‘ll try not to get into too much trouble on the way upstairs.”

“Maybe you will,” Ginny countered, already following him out of the room. “I never made any such promises.”

Sirius watched them go with a self-satisfied smile of his own. His triumphant mood, however, did not last long before being quickly burst by the pointed sound of a throat clearing behind him.

He turned to find Remus and Tonks staring at him in amusement.

“What was that about?” Remus asked, his arms folded expectantly over his chest.

“What was what?” Sirius asked innocently.

Remus shook his head wearily. “Need I remind you I’ve witnessed that exact manoeuvre before, minutes prior to the Great Venomous Tentacula Debacle of 1976.”

Sirius huffed dismissively. “This is nothing like that,” he disagreed. “I’m quite confident neither Harry nor Ginny are going to attempt to feed the other to Buckbeak.”

Which was almost exactly what had happened when Sirius had schemed to have Lily and James partnered in Herbology at the beginning of their sixth year. Of course, Lily had assured Professor Evergreen that she had meant no harm to James when she’d shoved him into the awaiting jaws of the predatory plant; she had only meant for it to ‘take a few bites out of his over-inflated head’.

“That’s not what I meant,” Remus disagreed with his practised look of weak disapproval that was so easy to ignore. “As you well know.”

Sirius sighed, chancing a glance over his shoulder to confirm no one was nearby before stepping closer to Remus and Tonks and saying in a voice too low for anyone else to overhear over the revellers of the night. “They simply need a nudge in the right direction, one that I’m more than willing to provide.”

Remus’ frown deepened. “A nudge in which direction?”

“A romantic one,” Sirius responded imploringly, surely that much was obvious to anyone with eyes. “Don’t you see it? They’re perfect for one another.”

“Harry and Ginny?” Remus attempted to clarify, his voice dripping with scepticism.

Any answer Sirius might have made was abruptly drowned out by Tonks’ unbridled laughter.

“What?” Sirius demanded, immediately disliking the smug shake of her head. “What’s so amusing?”

“Oh, nothing,” Tonks replied as she brought her laughter back under control. “Only that you’re obviously completely out of the loop.”

“I am not,” he protested at once, indignance flaring at the suggestion he might be uninformed. “Out of the loop regarding what?”

“So many things,” Tonks replied, sighing with superiority. “But, in particular, Ginny’s boyfriend and Harry’s preferred choice of snogging partner.”

“Harry’s what?” Sirius demanded, feeling rather as though one of Fred and George’s fireworks had just struck him directly in the face. Surely, if Harry was seeing someone, he would at least bother to tell Sirius as much.

“Sounds like you have all the teenage gossip,” Remus said, encouraging Tonks to share the details while Sirius reeled from the revelation that he, apparently, knew nothing.

“I only know what Ginny tells me,” Tonks replied, shrugging as she took a sip of her firewhiskey. “Six brothers haven’t really left her with much in the way of female influence, and Hermione’s always off with Harry and Ron, she gets quite lonely, not that she’d ever admit as much out loud.”

“Evidently not that lonely if she’s cavorting around with this secret boyfriend you mentioned,” Sirius replied haughtily.

Remus and Tonks’ eyebrows rose in surprise at his uncharitable tone and Sirius took a sip of firewhiskey to burn away the faint pang of guilt surfacing within him.

“She’s not keeping him a secret,” Tonks disagreed. “She’s just protecting herself from meddling big brothers—“

“And interfering godfathers,” Remus added.

Tonks nodded in agreement. “At any rate, I don’t think they’re cavorting — which, by the way, isn’t a word anyone has used in the last century — by her own admission, she’s quite fed up with Michael.”

“Michael,” Sirius repeated brusquely. “Of course she is, how could anyone not be fed up with someone named Michael.”

Even with Sirius’ limited knowledge, it was entirely evident Harry was superior in every way that could possibly matter.

“Michael Corner?” Remus asked, ignoring this last pointed remark, his expression still perfectly, annoyingly genial. “I remember him from teaching — he seemed a perfectly pleasant young man.”

“More pleasant than Harry?” Sirius demanded, failing to see how that could possibly be true.

“Of course not,” Remus replied evenly. His eyes wandered to Tonks and they both shared a look of amusement not unlike the smirks Sirius was now used to witnessing pass between Ginny and Harry.

Sirius took note of the moment to question both Remus and Tonks about later. Separately.

“Anyway,” Remus said abruptly, tearing his eyes away from Tonks as a red flush worked its way across his cheeks. “It sounds like Harry has his sights set elsewhere.”

At the reminder, Sirius looked to Tonks expectantly. “What do you know?”

“Like I said, only what Ginny tells me.”

“Which is?” Sirius asked, schooling his features into a look of mild interest. Clearly, Tonks was enjoying holding the information over him, and he simply wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of having him beg for it.

“Just that Harry was kissing some Ravenclaw girl on the last night of term — she didn’t elaborate further, other than to say Cho’s whispering skills left a lot to be desired.”

“Cho?” Sirius directed the question at Remus.

“She’s in the year above him,” Remus replied at once. “She plays seeker for Ravenclaw — she was very popular from what I remember.”

Sirius shook his head in vehement denial. “Harry’s not going to marry a Ravenclaw.”

“He’s fifteen,” Tonks reminded him through a laugh. “I don’t think marriage is his main priority right now.”

Before Sirius could argue, a course he was quite set on taking, the door to the kitchen opened and a flash of bright red caught his eye.

Ginny re-entered first, closely followed by Harry; the two of them were deep in conversation, both of them smiling at one another in a way that, in Sirius’ opinion, proved his point for him.

He, Remus and Tonks, all fell silent, watching the young couple intently as they grabbed fresh bottles of butterbeer.

Ginny headed over to the table, eyes surveying the spread laid out upon it; Harry remained at her heels. She paused not at the food, but at a pile of glittering red and gold party hats Fred and George had laid out earlier, the ones which had caused quite a stir when the one resting jauntily on Kingsley’s head had started to sing loudly and woefully out of tune.

Ginny picked up one of the hats and beckoned Harry closer with a crooked finger. His weak attempts to refuse her obvious demand did little to deter; Ginny took a definitive step forward; Harry made no attempt to duck away as she rose up on her tiptoes and secured the eye-catching hat to the top of his head where it sparkled brilliantly in contrast with his dark hair. Upon seeing Ginny’s triumphant smile, an identical one bloomed upon Harry’s face.

Sirius was also grinning victoriously as he turned back to Remus and Tonks.

“I’m not telling you you’re right,” Remus said stubbornly, but the stiff manner in which he knocked back the remainder of his firewhiskey was confirmation enough for Sirius.

Tonks sighed, her eyes still glued to the pair, watching as Harry attempted to force a hat onto Ginny’s head and she stubbornly — and speedily — ducked out of his way.

“I’m sure they’ll figure it out eventually,” Tonks said, a small smile appearing on her face.

Sirius nodded, unable to stop his thoughts from wandering to James and Lily and the many occasions upon which he’d been forced to watch them refuse to see what was plainly right in front of them.

He cleared his throat against the sudden emotion that swelled within, a strange mixture of longing for what had already passed and what was still yet to come. “They always do in the end.”

[rewritingcanon]

i’ve seen relationship therapists and psychologists analyse hermione and ron’s relationship and conclude that they wouldn’t work out in the long run. they’ve argued for hermione to be with harry, krum, even DRACO (don’t understand how a counsellor can vow for canon dramione but alright) as an alternative partner for hermione since ron is “too insecure” to be with her and match her intelligent prowess or what have you.

i seriously don’t understand this sentiment. ron and hermione genuinely seem (almost) perfect to me, maybe not in the movies (a common denominator of people who don’t like romione is that they always cite evidence from the movies, since the films took a lot away from ron’s character and his growth), but definitely in the books.

looking at ron’s insecurities, a lot of people dredge his inferiority complex up to toxic masculinity primarily, when it was more explored how it was an effect of his home life (not gonna argue toxic masculinity wasn’t a factor, they’re teenagers in the 90s written by a pretty misogynistic woman so…). he was the youngest son out of how many children? all of his older brothers were brilliant in some way. bill was an extremely gifted spellcaster, charlie was gifted with magical beasts, percy’s academic score was unmatched, and fred and george (despite their trouble) were entrepreneurial inventor-geniuses. ron, on the other hand, was quite literally born a disappointment to his mother, who conceived him specifically because she wanted a daughter, whilst ginny was born her favourite (though, even then, ginny was gifted at quidditch). ron was mediocre in every sense of the word, and his two best friends were harry (one of the most famous wizards) and hermione (the smartest witch of her age yada yada). and i’ve seen people argue that harry was more welcomed by molly into the weasley household than ron ever was. this isn’t even mentioning the amount of bullshit he copped for being poor (people always downplay the blow to confidence being in poverty can have on a person who is constantly surrounded by people who not only have more, but look down on him for simply being unlucky as to not have what they do).

so yeah, ron was an envious kid, but he was that way not because he was an evil patriarchal conception but because he was lowkey neglected. and even then he was overall an extremely devoted and loyal friend to both harry and hermione, because he did genuinely love them.

there were many moments of ron standing up for hermione that was cut from the films, not as a guy who was romantically interested in her, but as a friend. ron arguing with snape for making hermione cry is one of my fav scenes in the books ru kidding me, and in the movies he AGREED with snape RU KIDDING ME. not to mention how ron was a sobbing violent mess when hermione was getting tortured in the last book, whereas he wasn’t nearly as bothered in the films. and the films cut out harry being a dick to ron about his familial concerns (in dh), so when ron left it seemed like a random dickish move over his jealousy towards harry and hermione’s relationship.

there’s also a million moments where they minimised ron’s usefulness in the books for comedic purposes (forbidden forest with aragog, troll scene, devils snare scene) so ron seems dumber than he is. like, he’s actually smart and a really good spellcaster…. in the books.

so simply by stating this most of the arguments against romione become void. “he’s too stupid/weak for her” simply not true. “he’s a terrible friend who doesn’t stand up for her” also not true. “he’s too insecure to have made a move on her,” yes, but given the context i don’t think people would freak on about ron’s upbringing, i think many would be more understanding, especially considering his growth. even if he wasn’t insecure, hermione is beyond incredible and is bound to make anyone nervous when pursuing her (not an excuse for ron to act like a dick, but it does explain a lot where the movies don’t). “they argue too much” they bump heads, none of the arguments they have are actually super damning, with the exception of ron leaving in deathly hallows.

maybe i’ve covered everything (excluding the abhorrent amount of classism that clouds people’s judgments around how they view ron when harping about how hermione deserves better? hopefully).

now, i know people won’t like me mentioning the cursed child, but i’m going to considering we actually get an insight of their life as a longterm married couple there. a lot of ron stans hated how ron was the only character that wasn’t doing something incredible. harry was head of the aurors, ginny was a famous quidditch player retired to a famous journalist, neville was a hogwarts professor, hermione was quite literally minister on magic. and ron…. ran the joke shop with george.

and i think this was almost the perfect route to go down for ron. because he was average, and was perfectly fine with just being average. hello?? that speaks leagues of growth for his character. he’s supportive of hermione’s work, he grounds her when she gets too caught up in being the literal president of wizarding society, and he still viciously defends her, minister or not. in fact, he’s proud to simply be known as hermione’s husband because he doesn’t feel the need to prove to anyone else his worth. the people he loves most know his worth, hermione never downplays or underestimates him, they are complete equals in the relationship in every single way that matters. they kept ron’s best qualities whilst making him seem more of a healed person. they work so well as a married couple without it seeming like mischaracterisation (not to mention the cursed child literally shows how those two are in love in every reality, so there quite literally can’t be a better partner for hermione or ron according to canon).

so i really don’t understand how professional relationship counsellors can go online and denounce it. probs because they only watched the movies, but it’s 2023 and ron stans should not STILL be fighting for their lives trying to defend him from people who simply don’t consume media with as much depth (which is fine, but one should clarify if they’re talking about the movies because i’ve seen people state they’re talking about the hp BOOKS when it’s simply just…. the films). anyways. romione on top, thanks to coming to my ted talk.

[tedwardremus]

Love in Secret: The Secret Wedding Everyone's Talking About

By Rita Skeeter

The Vanquisher of Voldemort, Harry Potter, and his Hogwarts sweetheart, Ginny Weasley, have secretly eloped!

Mr Potter, hero of the Second Wizarding War now a celebrated Auror, and Ms Weasley, a star Quidditch player for the Holyhead Harpies, have long been a favorite couple among fans. Their popularity endured even through persistent rumors that Ms Weasley used love potions to secure her longtime relationship to the famous wizard.

Ginny Weasley, the youngest daughter of the famously large and somewhat eccentric Weasley family, has always had her eyes set on Harry Potter. Friends from their Hogwarts days recall a shy young girl with a crush that bordered on obsessive. But could this infatuation have driven her to take more sinister measures?

Anonymous sources from the Ministry of Magic have hinted at an investigation into the matter. “It’s not uncommon for witches to resort to such measures when their affections are unreturned,” said one insider. “And with Harry Potter’s fame and fortune, who could blame her?”

When reached for comment, Ron Weasley, Ms Weasley's brother and Mr. Potter’s wartime sidekick, told this reporter to perform a vulgar sexual act on oneself that is too crude to write in this prestigious paper.

Despite their high-profile lives, the couple has always sought to keep certain aspects of their relationship private. Their decision to elope reflects their desire to cherish their love away from the prying eyes of the public.

The newlyweds have yet to make an official statement, but sources indicate they are currently enjoying a romantic honeymoon at an undisclosed location.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

I was thinking the same thing about the Shelbys lmao !!!

I headcanon'ed that Percy was the one to emotionally raise Weasley!Reader because the Reader is the absolute youngest of the seven sons so Molly overlooked him as she fussed over Ginny and tried to straighten out the Twins or chased after Ron and Harry Potter for so many years and Arthur was to busy with work but Percy saw they were special and could really be something one day and didn't want it squandered by bad influences and poverty.

Percy graduated the summer Weasley!Reader got the letter and had already started at the Ministry of Magic but picked up a second, side job to save up money so Weasley!Reader wouldn't have to go to school with hand-me-downs.

It drives jealousy in Ron and the Twins but Percy merely reasons that the hand-me-downs were literally falling apart by the time they got to Weasley!Reader and Molly tries to peace-keep by asking why Percy wouldn't spread the money around so each child could get one or two things new instead of just the Reader and Percy looks blankly before repeating himself, stating that he wouldn't have his son brother go to school with supplies that are literally falling apart because they've seen seven other siblings and, once again, are literally falling apart, woman do you hate your sons that much?

And that's just how it goes each following year, Percy taking Weasley!Reader shopping no matter how much Molly tries to fix the hand-me-downs. He does bring the others gifts during holidays and birthdays but it becomes clear to the older siblings the Percy dotes on Weasley!Reader like a father would and they sort of just observe for a time and realize that Molly neglects the Reader emotionally, maybe even becoming mean sometimes because of the summer shopping sprees, and Percy is the one stepping in for the Reader so they don't really say anything about it anymore

One summer when puberty hits Weasley!Reader like a hexed broomstick, Percy takes his boy to a designer clothing place and buys him an outrageously expensive fitted, three-piece suit, waving off the costs because at this point he's raising high in the Ministry of Magic, surpassing their father, in both position and pay, so it's okay.

"Stick with me, brother, and you'll have a higher standard of life one day too."

And despite Percy blaming Lestrange!OC!Daughter for corrupting Weasley!Reader it was really this moment right here that drove the Reader into becoming a criminal because it was fast, easy and fun money.

Lestrange!OC!Daughter makes him stop wearing English suits and instead start wearing French suits once they become romantically involved since she's French. He still wears the original suit Percy bought him from time to time though. And the higher ups the work with him are always adoring beautiful French or Italian suits because it becomes like an unspoken dress code.

Fleur always compliments criminal!Weasley whenever seen in the French suits, maybe even recognizing the craftsmanship and complimenting his taste although she rotates between fluent French and broken English and then gets ten times more excited when criminal!Weasley responds in perfect French with the hopes of easing her anxiety a bit as she struggles to get her point out, maybe even with a Parisian accent, because his beloved taught him, and it makes Molly ten times angrier, especially when Fleur and Lestrange only exclusively speak to each other in French, forming a strong alliance because of Molly's obvious dislike of both of them.

I could even imagine Weasley!Reader being Ginny’s twin, therefore adding even more to him being neglected in favor of his sister. But he and Ginny are very close and even she hates how their mother doesn’t even look twice at the Reader cause she’s so focused on Ginny. I also, really love the idea of Percy basically raising the Reader, mainly emotionally but I could see him picking up the slack when Molly takes to rocking baby!ginny more then she does baby!Reader. Or Percy stepping in to take over baby!Reader’s nightly feedings cause Molly has all her attention on baby!Ginny and ensuring she gets taken care of first cause she’s her precious babygirl and Arthur is working a late night. Just the thought of Percy feeling a desperate need to take on physically caring for his youngest baby brother because he can’t trust his mother not to forget about the Reader cause she has such tunnel vision on finally having her babygirl. Percy literally ends up raising the Reader himself through a majority of his upbringing and even then Molly doesn’t acknowledge it.

I could imagine Percy going as far as opening an entire secret vault at Gringotts just for the money he’s already saved for the Reader and continues to save for his precious youngest baby brother who deserves to have something for himself. Whereas the Reader takes up being a criminal to financially provide for his entire family, Percy takes to working himself to the bone for his youngest brother and he happily goes about it too.

Percy spoiling the Reader whenever he can meanwhile the Reader has never asked him for anything, Percy just freely gives it to him case it’s what he wants his brother to have. He knows his brother is special, special in a way that only Percy can see and he fully intends to make way for his brother to fucking shine. Now that doesn’t mean Percy doesn’t love and care for his other siblings because of course he does, but the Reader is different. The Reader needs him more than any of the rest of their siblings ever have and Percy will be damned if he isn’t there for him.

I could see Weasley!Reader maybe coming to a point of realizing what all Percy has done for him and wanting to repay him so he ends up doing some illegal stuff to get the money to do something nice for his older brother for once and becoming addicted to how easy and fun it was in the end. Given how much younger the Reader is in this scenario I could see his reasoning to becoming a criminal being a bit more selfish, like there’s still a part of him that wants to support his family but not so much his mother or father, only his siblings. Like, If they need anything the Reader would happily help them out cause he has the means to in more ways then one, but if Molly especially needed something the Reader wouldn’t be moving too fast, if at all, to lend a helping hand.

Also, I could wholeheartedly see Percy taking the Reader out of the Burrow once he’s graduated and saved up enough money to get a small flat or something where he and the Reader can live comfortably. At this point, Percy has just taken it upon himself to care for the Reader entirely so that’s exactly what he’s going to do. When Percy inevitably finds out about the Reader’s criminal activities I could see there being a moment of him asking himself where he went wrong in being up his youngest sibling. He’d blame himself entirely for doing something wrong for the Reader to end up down this path. But then the Reader divulges the whole entirety of the empire he’s built himself and it’s then that Percy realizes that no he didn’t go wrong, he didn’t go wrong at all. Percy would still become very involved in the Reader’s business as said before. He’ll utilize his power and position in the Ministry after so many years of moving up the ladder to further aid and protect his brother all the more.

I absolutely love the idea of Lestrange!Daughter, Bellatrix, Fleur, Narcissa and Andromeda all conversing in French together, especially when Molly is around cause she knows damn well they’re all taking shit about her and they very much are doing just that. It would enrage Molly all the more when the Reader joins the conversations, talking in fluent French that she didn’t even know he knew. At first she thinks the Reader is defending her and their family from the French speaking women but eventually she comes to the conclusion that that’s not what’s happening at all. It certainly doesn’t help that when she asks the Reader what they all were talking about he always answers with something vague, and she knows full well that’s bullshit.

I think Lestrange!Daughter and Fleur would be very good friends, even if they don’t really interact too much outside of the family but they most definitely gang up when they’re around Molly. Also, I think Weasley!Reader would be very close to Fleur in a platonic way of course. After all he was probably the first one in the family to truly befriend her when she got into a relationship with Bill and not judge or hate her like his mother and sister did. But he also wasn’t completely captivated with her because of her being part Veela either, fortunately cause he already had Lestrange!Daughter by his side.

[obsessedwithceleste]

Daisy Chains and Kept Promises

George Weasley x reader

Based on this request🫶🏽

Summary: George Weasley was never one to break a promise. Especially not one sealed by a daisy chain ring.

word count: 3.2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

It was the first sunny afternoon in what seemed like forever, but in reality had only been a few days, and the residents of the burrow were eager to escape onto the vibrant, green lawn.

“Fred, George you stay out of trouble now!” Molly shouted from the kitchen as you run out the door with the twins.

“Come on now, it’s our last summer before they ship us off to Hogwarts! We gotta make the most of it!” Fred replies, sprinting out to the shed where the Weasleys stored all their brooms.

“Hurry up Georgie, or I’m taking the good broom!” You tease as you race past the other boy, snatching the best broom from the rack before he has the chance to protest.

“Aw c’mon! Why’s she always get the good one?” Ron complains as he catches up with you all.

“Oh shut it Ronald,” George retorts, not bothering to give his youngest brother a second glance.

The four of you spend the afternoon zooming across the field, a beat up quaffle tossed between you in carefree bliss as the sun shines down on you and Ginny watches from the ground below.

Eventually you all tire and you find yourself lying in the shade of the old oak tree that loomed over the garden. Thankfully the rain had scared off the gnomes that had a habit of sneaking into the garden for a tasty treat.

“Show me how to make those daisy crowns? Like the muggles?” Ginny asks, bringing over fists full of the little white flowers.

“Not now Ginny,” Fred sighs, rolling his eyes at the young girl.

“No, no, we can do it now,” you argue, patting the ground next to you, gesturing for the younger girl to sit beside you.

“Yeah, let her stay,” George agrees, smiling fondly at you.

Fred snorts at his brother, eyes rolling once more.

“You always side with her, you’re supposed to be my twin! How are you two going to survive without each other?” Fred retorts, leaning back against the tree.

“It’ll only be a year, then y/n can join us in the fun,” George replies happily.

“Oh at this point you might as well just marry her,” Fred responds with a huff.

You feel your cheeks begin to grow red and you turn to focus all your attention on the young girl beside you, showing her how to intricately wrap the stems together to form a chain of daisies.

You’d known the twins for as long as you could remember. You’d practically grown up with them. Your father Remus did the best he could raising you on his own, he really did, but it was hard. Especially on full moons. The Weasleys always took you in on those nights, often resulting in you staying for days while Remus recovered.

George had had a soft spot for you since the beginning, always being the slightly softer twin while Fred was more severe and brash. You could remember a particularly bad night when it had been storming, the loud thunder making you shake with fear. George had stayed up with you all night, making sure the storm didn’t get you. You had been seven at the time.

It had started back then you supposed, your little crush. It had confused you at first as you had thought of all the boys as your brothers, but now, at the ripe old age of ten, you could tell that Georgie was different from the other Weasley boys.

“There!” George announces excitedly, shaking you from your thoughts as he brandishes a single daisy up into the air, its stem tied rather roughly in a small circle.

Without warning, he grasps onto your hand, sliding the makeshift ring onto your finger, looking rather pleased with himself.

“There. You’re my wife now,” he says proudly as you stare at the little flower adorning your finger.

“You didn’t do it right! You have to ask her to be your wife. Everyone knows that!” Ginny exclaims, watching the two of you with a dopey little grin on her face.

“Oh. Right. Y/n, will you be my wife?” Georgie asks, batting his eyes dramatically at you and sticking out his bottom lip.

“Yes I will,” you reply with a laugh, admiring the pretty daisy that now sat on your finger.

“You two are so gross,” Fred says, making a face.

“Oh, oh! Do the promises! The ones where you say I do!” Ginny urges excitedly, clapping her hands.

“Alright. Do you promise to always laugh at my jokes, always be there for me when I need you, and always take my side when we argue with Fred?” George asks.

Fred begins to make dramatic gagging sounds.

“I do.” You reply with a giggle as Fred just glares at you. “And do you promise to always make me smile, always protect me, and always make me hot chocolate when I can’t sleep?”

“I do.”

It was dark. The whole house was dark really. All the time. Dimly lit and constantly smelling like mold and rotting wood. And the furniture seemed to be permanently damp, the coldness settling into your bones.

You hated it here at Grimmauld Place. The constant shrieking of decrepit, old portraits, the eerie feeling of constantly being watched. The only positive attribute about living in this wretched place was the fact that Remus had never been happier.

It had taken months to do it, but after Harry had been able to help Sirius escape the dementors, Dumbledore had inconspicuously been able to move Sirius into Grimmauld place where you had been staying ever since.

It had been strange at first, no doubt. You had only just met the man, but he grew on you quickly. Like a fungus. You loved seeing how comfortable he made Remus who visibly softened whenever the other man was near. And you hadn’t seen Remus smile as wide or as often, well ever. You could tell that the two of them were just meant to be side by side, and honestly, that was enough for you. Especially in dark times like these.

“Lighten up love, we have a surprise for you before dinner,” Remus announces, entering the drawing room where you sat wrapped in a pile of blankets, a book in hand as you tried to ignore the screeching bag lady in entry way portrait.

“Is it another one of those horrendous sweaters that Sirius keeps digging up from somewhere?” You ask, nose scrunching at the thought of another one of the putrid smelling things being presented to you. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you detested the nasty things, so you had been giving them to Kreacher to dispose of rapidly. “I know I keep telling him that they’re lovely, but how many of the things does he think I need?”

Remus just laughs, shaking his head. “I’ve told him to move onto something else, but he’s determined to fill your wardrobe I think. But no. It’s not another sweater. For now at least. No, I do believe you’ll quite enjoy this little surprise.” He tells you before leaving you to your book and your thoughts.

Dinner time couldn't come fast enough as you eagerly eyed the clock every fifteen minutes, only to be disappointed by how little time had gone by.

About thirty minutes before the three of you usually ate dinner, you began hearing a chorus of voices coming from the entry way. And not the familiar voices of the Black family portraits.

"Well where is she then?" a loud voice asks.

Hearing the voice, you immediately perk up, not quite believing you'd heard correctly. This place might be driving you mad.

"Oh bloody hell mate, don't seem too eager now," comes the sarcastic response.

You'd know those voices anywhere. Practically throwing yourself from the couch, you eagerly scramble to the door and down the staircase to be greeted by the whole Weasley family grinning up at you.

"Look Georgie, there's your wife, don't get your knickers in a twist now," Fred scoffs.

You fly into George's arms, sighing contentedly as his arms wrap securely around you.

"Well hello to you too," you hear him laugh as he gives you another squeeze before releasing you.

You hadn't seen him, or the other Weasley's for that matter, in what felt like ages. He and Fred had grown their hair out, and you didn't quite remember them being so tall last you saw them. His smile never changed though.

Bashfully, you greet the rest of the Weasley bunch, even Fred giving you a quick hug, before rubbing the top of your head affectionately and effectively tossling up your hair. You stick your tongue out at the boy in response, batting his hand away.

"I missed you all, so much! I've been going absolutely bonkers being here alone for so long," you tell them.

"Well not to worry love, we'll be here all summer. Hermione too, though she's not coming for another few weeks." George tells you.

Feeling eyes on you as you laugh with the boys, turning to see both Sirius and Remus gazing at you intently, eyes flickering between you and George.

Sirius silently points at you, then George before drawing a line across his neck with his finger before giving you a wink. You feel heat creeping into your cheeks as you turn back to the boys.

"What are you all doing here?" you ask eventually as the adults begin to file into the kitchen.

"Came to be used as house elves of course," Fred replies, earning him a nudge from George.

"Mum said that Sirius volunteered the house to be headquarters for the Order," Ron butts in.

"Yeah, then mum volunteered us to help clean the place up," Ginny adds.

You make a face at that.

"We have a lot of work to do then, this place is disgusting," you tell them, leading them up the stairs to the room you'd been staying in. On your way up the stairs, George's hand never leaves yours, fingers intertwined as you guide him up the dusty staircase.

"Long as there aren't any spiders," Ron replies, eyeing the spiraling stairs with suspicion.

You just look back at the boy with concern, pity overtaking your face as his own face turns pale.

For once Grimmauld place was silent. A rare luxury you'd found, especially since the Weasley's had moved in. Not that you minded, the red headed family made the grim, old place feel alive and vibrant. Something you thought the it needed desperately. But you liked the quiet too.

It had been a strange couple of weeks as everyone, the adults especially, seemed to be on high alert. And who could blame them? Hermione had just moved in, sharing a room with you and Ginny. You could hear their breathing now as you stared up at the dark ceiling above.

After the Weasley's arrival, you had all spent countless hours decluttering Grimmauld place. Sweeping, dusting, banishing the more mouthy portraits to the attic. It was hard work, but you had loved every second of it with George making you laugh until you keeled over, tears streaming down your face. His presence just made everything better. You thought so at least.

In the darkened room, your mind drifts to the conversation you had heard between the adults just hours ago. It definitely wasn't a conversation you had been meant to overhear, but Georgie had given you a pair of extendable ears that he and Fred had developed, and you just couldn't help yourself.

"Oh really Sirius, they've all practically grown up together, George would never do anything to hurt her," Molly had said.

At the mention of George's name, you just had to find out what they were talking about.

"We never said he was going to do anything malicious, we just don't want to see her get hurt," Remus replied with a heavy sigh.

Her?

"They're practically adults, you can't protect her forever. So what if they fancy each other? They're not children!" Molly retorts.

"Oh that's rich coming from you. Just the other day you were going on about young witches and wizards rushing into marriage during the first war. And how many times have you told the twins that they're forbidden from joining the Order hmm? They're adults, Molly, you can't protect them forever," Sirius responds.

"Oh but at least I've done all I can to protect them up to this point. What have you done for y/n? Nothing. Because you've been locked up!" Molly spits. You can hear the fury in her voice.

Your fists ball up in rage at her comments. None of it was Sirius's fault. He didn't do anything wrong. How dare she?

"That's enough!" you hear Remus cut in, a sharpness in his voice that you hadn't heard before. "We weren't coming to attack George, or the way you raised any of the children. We were simply raising our concerns, as any good parents would. Now that we've made our point, if you don't wish to interfere, fine. We won't either."

After that the only thing you had heard was the shuffling of feet as they abandoned the dining room. They had most definitely been talking about you. No doubt about it. You hadn't realized they were concerned about you. They never said anything. And it was only Georgie. The two of you had been married for six years now. In all the ways that mattered to you at least. He would never hurt you. In fact, he'd made it a promise.

Mind racing and unable to sleep, you slip out of bed, careful not to make a sound as you slowly creep to the drawing room that you so often took refuge in. To your surprise however, a dim light was already flickering inside when you approached, and a familiar head of red hair sat facing away from you on the sofa.

"Georgie?" You whisper cautiously, not wanting to spook him.

His head turns in surprise, but his face lights up when he sees you.

"What are you doing this up this late, love?" he asks.

"I could ask you the same."

"Fair enough. Just a lot on my mind I suppose."

"Me too," you reply.

A silence falls between the two of you as you stand, watching mesmerized as the light flickers on and off of the boy's handsome face.

"Want me to make you a hot chocolate?" George asks finally.

A smile grows on your face and you instantly perk up at the mention of your favorite treat. George always knew how to put you to sleep, and he always made the best hot chocolate. Nodding enthusiastically, the two of you make your way down to the kitchen where George begins gathering supplies.

One thing you'd always admired about him was that he never minded doing things the muggle way. While Fred was always quick to magic his way through things, George was content taking his time.

"Help stir the milk so it doesn't burn?" he asks, gesturing to the pot now on the stove.

You silently take the wooden spoon from his hand, fingers brushing ever so slightly, before focusing on the task at hand. George sets out two mugs on the counter before helping you melt in the chocolate.

It all felt terribly domestic. As if there wasn't a sociopathic murderer on the loose. Like it was just the two of you.

It isn't long before George is pouring the dark liquid into the mugs, sprinkling in a few little marshmallows and a cinnamon stick or two and the both of you are retreating back up to the drawing room.

The first sip sends shivers of satisfaction down your spine as you lean into George who wraps his free arm around you. You pull a blanket over you and revel for a moment in the comfort.

"Care to share what's been on your mind?" George asks, breaking the silence.

"Only if you go first," you reply, not quite sure how to explain that he was really the only thing on your mind these days.

George just sighs. "It's nothing you we haven't told you before," He tells you. "Mum is just fighting for her life to keep Freddie and I out of the Order, but Moody agrees with us. We're of age. There's nothing she can do to stop us."

"Will you be safe?"

"Safe as can be. Mum has made sure they don't give us any real missions. Just patrolling Diagon Alley since that's where we set up shop."

You simply nod your head, letting it fall against the boy's chest as you feel his even breathing and let it overtake you. You'd never admit it out loud, but you were grateful for Molly to an extent. The twins had an abysmal lack of self preservation skills, and you didn't know what you would do if you lost Georgie.

"And what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

You feel your shoulders shrug as you think carefully of what to say.

"I overheard our parents talking today," you mumble, not exactly sure where you were taking this.

"Oh?"

"Dads are worried about us," you tell him, hiding your face in his chest.

"Worried?"

"I dunno. They said something about your mum talking about how a lot of wizards and witches rushed into marriage during the first war, and there was a lot of talk about you being of age and what not. It got intense. There was a lot of yelling."

You feel George's chest rumble with soft laughter at your words.

"Well that's a silly thing to be worried about considering we've been married for years now at this point," he says.

You're not sure if he's joking or not. Maybe the exhaustion was finally getting to you.

"I'm being serious Georgie. I didn't know they were so worried about me. And Sirius sounded so upset," you reply, sitting up to take another long sip of your hot chocolate.

"So am I." he responds, looking you dead in the eye. The usual mischievous gleam is gone this time and you know he's never been more serious about something. "You know I'm not one to break a promise."

The air grows heavy as you feel yourself freeze for a moment at his words before you sink back into his warm embrace.

"I still have it you know. Your ring. Your mum charmed it for me so it wouldn't wilt. She knew all along," you tell him.

"She tends to have a sixth sense when it comes to these kinds of things."

Another silence falls between the two, but this time, the silence brings comfort as you feel your eyes growing heavy. George tries to stifle a yawn, but it escapes anyway. It was later then you had realized.

"I'm glad it's real for you too," you murmur, leaning further into the boy as your eyes flutter close. Something about being in George's arms provided a sense of security you couldn't find anywhere else.

"It was always real. I'd never break a promise to you, love."

bby's first non-slytherin boy fic🫣

don't ask me if I edited this- the answer is no and I don't want to talk abt it💀

tag list: @sol-lupin-black @breeistired

[marvelslut16]

The Yule Ball

Prompt number: 13 "Come with me, hurry."

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Ron Weasley x reader

Rating: E(veryone)

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Teenagers being stupid and clueless. Pining.

A/N: No one's gonna read this, but oh well. I've loved it and been to afraid to put it out for years, so now I'm finally just doing it.

You roll your eyes at Ron and Harry complaining that they don’t have dates for the Yule Ball yet, they should be concentrating on the exam that you’re all supposed to be doing. However, you do giggle quietly as Fred asks Angelina to the ball by throwing a piece of paper at her and miming dancing horribly. 

“Well what about you (Y/N/N)?” Ron looks to his left, you're sitting between him and Harry. “You wanna go with me?” 

Your heart picks up speed for a second, the boy you’ve been hopelessly in love with since you were kids is finally noticing you as more than a friend. But the euphoria you feel is short-lived, realizing that you're just a last resort to him, that you’ll never live up to Fleur. Plus you already have a date, one that’ll be tons of fun. 

“I, um, I actually have a date already,” if Ron could tear his wide eyes off your face he would see the mischievous glint in George’s eyes, accompanied by an all knowing smirk. 

“What? Who?” Ron’s voice echoes through the quiet hall, Snape comes up behind him and smacks his head with a book. 

You ignore the question, quickly glancing at the still smirking George, before finishing off your exam. You rush from your seat to hand in your booklet to Snape, as you grab your bag and books you hear Ron asking Hermione to the ball. Your heart plummets into your gut, Ron doesn’t really want to go with you, he just wants a date on his arm. 

You can feel the quick glances of pity from all of your friends; Harry, Hermione, Fred, and George. All of them know about your big ol’ crush on the youngest Weasley boy. You high tail it out of the Great Hall just as Hermione starts telling him off and admitting she has a date. Her and Viktor are actually quite cute together. 

You forgo heading to the library or any other place you typically meet your friends- Hermione will surely head straight to those spots and try to get you to talk about your feelings. Instead you head up the many flights of stairs to the Astronomy tower. The fresh air cools your flushed face, and you take a deep breath willing yourself to shake it off. You lean against one of the railings and stare at the black lake as it ripples from the wind. You close your eyes and think back to when you got asked to the ball mere days ago. 

McGonagall is teaching you how to dance for the ball, boys on one side and girls on the other. You can practically hear Fred and George snicker as you repeatedly glance at their younger brother as the professor lectures the group on etiquette. Ron makes a joke and McGonagall calls him to dance with her, this time you do hear the twins snicker and you join them. 

Once everyone joins in, Ron partners off  with a random girl and you're left standing there alone. You and Ron always pair up for everything, you have since you were in diapers. George quickly swoops in and starts dramatically waltzing you around the room. 

“Mr. Weasley!” McGonagall calls, grabbing everyone’s attention and placing it on you two. “Miss. (Y/L/N) is a young lady, not a rag doll, treat her as such.”

You hide your face in George’s chest, partly from embarrassment from all of the eyes, and partly to hide your giggles. 

“Of course, Professor,” George stands taller and he gracefully leads you through the steps. “I wouldn’t want to hurt dear (Y/N) here. Who else would help me prank Ron?”

You refuse to meet George’s eyes after the two of you see the girl in Ron’s arms giggling at something that he’s said. Usually you're the only one to giggle and laugh at Ron’s jokes, the only one affected by his ‘charm’. George elegantally spins you out and then back into his arms, trying to get you to cheer up and get your mind off of Ron. 

“Ow!” Ron’s partner cries.

Smirking, George leans in and whispers in your ear, “Ickle Ronniekins can’t keep his eyes off of you. Even stepped on his partner’s foot ‘cause he can’t look away.” 

“He’s not looking at me George,” you push the older boy away so he can watch you roll your eyes at him. 

“He stares at you constantly, (Y/N/N),” George frowns at your obliviousness. “He’s been in love with you since he met you, you two always understood each other on a different level than the rest of us.”

“If Ron liked me he would have asked me to the ball already, and he wouldn’t be drooling at Fleur’s feet,” your answer is short and snappy. “Can we just focus on dancing again?”

“Go with me,” it comes out more as a request than a question. “Freddie wants to take Angelina and I’m not going to get in the way of that. We can have fun and make Ronniekins jealous.”

“I don’t know about Ron getting jealous, but it would be fun,” you grin at the red head. “I’m sorry about the Angelina thing.”

“So you’ll be my date?” he ignores the second half of your statement, not wanting to dwell on his twin taking his crush to the ball. 

“I guess,” you tease, your giant smile giving away your excitement. 

“Wicked!” he cheers.

~~

“Who do you think is taking (Y/N)?” Ron asks George, not bothering to lower his voice, even though Padma is standing beside him. Ron had been openly staring at you since you admitted that you have a date, and he kept asking who, but you never answered because you agreed with George not to tell anyone.

“Ickle Ronniekins, you should have asked her sooner,” George teases with a smirk. Both your date’s and your crush’s jaws drop slightly as you make your way down the stairs. 

Your hair is pulled back in an updo, you and Hermione did each other's hair and makeup this morning. You're in a flowy silver dress, giving you an angelic appearance. Your mother even sent her best jewelry to finish off the look. 

“Whoa, (Y/N/N)?” Ron asks, eyes wide and jaw practically on the floor. Padma rolls her eyes at Ron, clearly regretting being his date already. “You look-whoa.”

“You look quite handsome yourself Ron,” you giggle lightly as you take in his old colorful dress robes. Most people would laugh at how ridiculous they look, but Ron can somehow pull the look off.  

“You look smashing, Miss. (Y/L/N),” you giggle again as George grabs your hand and places a kiss on it. 

“Oh thank you Mr. Weasley, you look,” you let your eyes drag over George in his black dress robes as you come up with a compliment. “Striking.” 

“Shall we love?” George puts his arm out to lead you into the Great Hall that the teachers transformed into a beautiful ballroom for the night. You catch a quick peek at Ron as you slip your hand into the crook of his brother's arm, and the young boy looks livid. His face is almost as red as his hair, his jaw locked, and a glare that could level even George if the older Weasley saw it. 

You can feel eyes watching your every move, but you elect to ignore it, instead focusing on George as he twirls you from song to song. No matter how disappointed you both may be that neither of you got to go with your crush, you don’t let it affect your spirits, instead both of you push those thoughts to the back of your minds and have fun as friends. 

“I could use a drink,” you holler to George after two hours on the dance floor and he leads you to the table Ron and Harry are sitting at.

“Stay here,” he takes his coat off and drapes it on the seat you plop down in. “I’ll go get us some punch.”

“Why aren’t you guys out there dancing?” you turn to Ron and Harry, then glancing at the dance floor where Padma and Parvati are dancing with some boys from Beauxbatons.

“Cho is with Cedric,” Harry grumbles, while Ron just glares behind your back.

“One punch for you my lady,” George does a stupid bow as he hands you your glass.

“Why thank you kind sir,” your giggle is cut off by an irritated scoff coming from Ron.

“Is there something you’d like to say Ickle Ronniekins?” George goads him.

“What's wrong Ron?” you ask at the same time, reaching out to touch his shoulder. 

“Bloody hell, you’re what's wrong,” Ron exclaims, and you're thankful the Twisted Sisters are too loud for anyone further than your table to have heard him. 

“Don’t talk to her like that,” George defends you, but it only seems to make it worse.

“What did I do wrong, Ron?” you fiddle with the bracelet that your mum sent you. 

“Come with me, hurry,” Ron pulls you out of the ballroom, up two flights of stairs, down a hallway, and into an alcove hidden by drapery. 

“What has gotten into you?” you finally ask when you two are hidden from prying eyes and ears. 

“How could you go with George?” he ignores your question, pacing back and forth in front of you.

“Because he asked me? Because he was the only one to ask me,” your voice cracks ever so slightly.

“I asked you,” you level your oldest friend with a glare.

“Out of desperation! You asked me as a last resort, Ron, not because you actually wanted to go with me! George at least asked me to go as friends,” angry tears are fighting to breach the surface. “You were too interested in trying to get Fleur to go with you to even consider asking me until you had no other choice.”

“I didn’t think you’d have a date,” he pitters off, not knowing how to save himself.

“Godrick Ron, can you even hear yourself? Do you think that low of me that no one would ask me?”

“But why George of all people?” he asks again, sounding like a broken record. 

“Is that it? Am I not good enough for your brother in your eyes?” you laugh humorlessly. “All those years of friendship and you truly think so low of me…” 

“He knows you’re off limits!” he says out loud, but by the look on his face he clearly meant to keep that thought on the inside.

“I’m not one of your chess pieces, Ron, I’m a person with feelings. You can’t just stake a claim on me-” he cuts off your rant.

“He knows I love you!” his words have so much conviction behind them that you're momentarily stunned. 

“What?” your moth is gaping open like a fish.

“I love you,” he says again like it isn’t the most heavy and meaningful thing he could possibly say. “I don’t ask you to the Ball sooner because I didn’t want you to reject me.”

“You love me?” you can’t seem to wrap your head around the fact that he feels the same.

“Bloody Hell (Y/N), how many times to I have to say it? I love y-” he’s cut off by your lips desperately colliding with his.

“I love you too,” you sigh, resting your forehead on Ron’s. “George only asked me to make you jealous.”

“I’m going to beat him with his bludger,” Ron steps back ready to go fight his brother.

“You can do that later, how about we go back to the Ball so I can dance with my boyfriend,” you lace your fingers with his and pull him back towards the Great Hall. Ron has a dopey smile on his face the whole way down, you called him your boyfriend. 

[dream-with-a-fever]

but i’m a fire and i’ll keep your brittle heart warm (snippet)

by dream-with-a-fever (me) / societysgot (ao3)

harry/ginny, oneshot, canon compliant, missing moments during OotP

“So, I take it that cave in the mountains outside Hogsmeade wouldn’t work as a meeting place with Sirius?” She said, bringing them back to their conversation in the library.

Harry shook his head. “Definitely not — how did you know about that?”

“I’m really into mountain hiking,” She replied, without missing a beat.

Harry gave her a quizzical look before her face broke out into a smile, and she laughed.

“I’m joking - I've never done it,” She said, with a snort, “Hermione mentioned doing it with her family once — no, Sirius told me about it over the summer, back at Grimmauld place.”

“You and Sirius talked?”

For some reason he hadn’t even considered the fact that the Weasleys had been staying there for several weeks before Harry’s arrival. Jealousy bubbled in him momentarily, at the thought of them all spending their summer together, while he was stuck in privet drive. They had probably shared meals, swapped stories, made jokes. He vaguely remembered the youngest Weasley holding court up one end of the table on a particular evening, chatting animatedly with Remus, Tonks and Sirius. She had almost seemed like one of the crew. He just hadn't given it much thought until now.

She gave him a quizzical look, and he realised he must’ve been silent for a beat too long.

“Yeah, is that… alright with you?”

He forced out a laugh. “Yeah- erm, of course. I just didn’t think — I don’t know.”

“Well, he’s cool. Got a great muggle music collection. You’d probably know some of ‘em? There’s one band — super good called The Beatle and—”

“The Beatles.”

“What?”

Harry suppressed a smile. “Never mind.”

“They're really good. But, he mainly talks about you, you know,” She said, after a beat, “Raves about you actually.”

Harry sighed, like this was a real inconvenience.

"Oh, I am sorry," said Harry, fighting back a grin.

"I told him, I said Sirius, I haven't got all day - but the man's relentless. Wanted to know everything."

“That must’ve been terribly boring.”

“Very," She hummed, noncommittally. "You know, Harry Potter — famously boring.”

“Glad you agree.”

“Well, we can’t have everyone inflating your ego now, can we?”

Harry spluttered for a moment, before she continued.

“Not that a bit more arrogance on your part would be bad. You could be a lot worse. Look at Percy.”

“Thanks, Ginny.”

“Very welcome,” She said, breezily before clapping her hands together, “Anyway — if the cave isn’t an option, and all the fires are being guarded…”

“Well…not all of them,” Harry said, a look of realisation crossing his face.

When he looked up she was grinning widely at him, eyebrows raised. It was then that he looked around, and realised they were outside the Gryffindor common room — the trek from the library was like muscle memory to him now, and still their arrival had come as a shock to him.

The fat lady was chatting animatedly with her friend Violet from another portrait when they approached; both shrieking with laughter like a couple of hyenas, passing a bottle back and forth of some kind of mead that most certainly was not from the fat lady’s portrait. They were completely obvious to the two students stood outside.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your study session,” Ginny suddenly said, scrunching up her nose, looking rather guilty, “I know you need all the time you can get, you know, with the OWLs coming up so soon.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Have a lot of faith in my academic ability then, do you?”

She choked out a laugh, whipping her auburn hair out of her eyes. “Not what I meant and you know it. Though if you hanging around Ron every minute of every day is any indication of your intelligence…”

“Pretty sure you spend more time with him than me,” Harry replied, looking aghast.

“Yeah — because he’s my brother - I'm stuck with him, aren't I? But you voluntarily spend every waking moment with him. I mean, think of all the brain cells you must have lost already…”

“See, that’s—”

“But there’s still time to save yourself from ruin, I reckon. Just gotta get back to the books.”

“Well, that’ll be hard, seeing as you got me banned from going back into the library ever again…”

She elbowed him hard in the side, and Harry looked up, surprised at the contact. But Ginny seemed unfazed - like this was nothing out of the ordinary.

“I think I’ll take that chocolate egg back then,” She demanded, flicking a curtain of red hair behind her.

Harry scoffed. “Pretty sure you already ate most of it—”

And that earned him his second jab in the ribs. He glanced down at his feet, suppressing a grin.

Their slight cofuffle had caught the attention of the fat lady who now, having finally noticed their presence, began to complain at their frankly insulting dawdling (‘I don’t have all day, you two!’)

They parted ways in the common room; Crookshanks trotting over to the youngest Weasley the second she had stepped through the door; Harry making his way up to the boys’ dormitories.

He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

(Unbeknownst to Harry, it was the best sleep he had had in weeks.)