#accio-sense

[green-eyed-weirdo]

Right under our noses (where Chloe hides the presents)

Beca is unsure about her Christmas gift for Chloe and Amy suggests they go looking for Chloe’s presents. They did not expect to run into Aubrey.

Inspired by an episode of Friends, a Birthday/Christmas/Freedom gift for my beautiful lil sis @accio-sense <3

*thank you as always to @aca-awesomenerd!

[accio-victuuri]

some lyrics on the new teasers, ✨

( i’m using this photo cause i thought of the same thing. p1 is a photo of yibo’s dad. )

I love early spring and i will love late autumn. I love black hair and i will love gray hair.

I love the wandering people coming home to their doorstep.

I love the new and i will love the old. I love waking up from dreams and i will love daydreaming.

I tightly hold on to the people i love. I love everything I lost in the past.

[chubby-maimaki]

please answer 6, 16, 20, 28 and 34, i think. i'm forgetful

Oh someone is curious 👀

6. What are you excited for?

Manchester in a few months 😍

16. Do you think you’ll change in the next 3 months?

I hope for the better!

20. Are you starting to realize anything?

I believe yes 😊

28. What was the last thing that made you laugh?

Me and my colleagues from work have a group chat where we make memes and send them to each other, so probably that

34. Listening to?

I have this playlist with a lot of 90s-00s that I listen to a lot.

[everythingisromant1c]

It's Always Been You - Chapter 7

james potter x fem!reader

summary - Now that things were seemingly going back to normal with James, the time had come for the marauders' next prank. But that doesn't mean you weren't in for some surprises of your own.

wc [5.0k]

all chapters | <- Chapter 6 - Chapter 8 ->

Classes for the next day went remotely better, considering the fact that no more potions had exploded and you'd given up on trying to avoid James. It seemed like it was physically impossible to do. You supposed that made sense, since you'd had him in your life for as long as you were old enough to form proper sentences. It was hard to imagine your life without him, no matter how much it may hurt to be around him.

You were forcing yourself to ignore that feeling now and focus on this impossible prank you were trying to pull off. You and the rest of the Marauders were stationed out in one of the hidden passageways within Hogwarts' walls, one that led you right in front of the Slytherin common room.

You lit the dark passage with your wand, the others having lugged the shampoo bottles you'd filled with red hair dye in a makeshift sack within the invisibility cloak, much to your displeasure.

"Remind me why we can't just accio all the shampoo bottles to us and get the hell out of here?" Sirius dropped the invisibility cloak and the bottles with a cringe-worthy slam to the floor, a sound that echoed through the dark passageway.

"Of course, Sirius," chimed Remus, smacking a sarcastic hand to his head. "Why hadn't we thought of that before? Let's just accio every single bottle at the same time and-"

"Okay, I get it," Sirius grumbled, rubbing at the shoulder that'd been carrying the bottles. "Someone's cranky."

James rolled his eyes at him. "No arguing with Moony, it's almost that time of the month."

"I wasn't arguing, only asking a reasonable question."

"Enough talking you guys," you butted in. "If we want this prank to work we need to start as soon as possible, alright?" You took their silence for compliance. "We remember the plan, yes?" From what you could see in the darkness, the four of them gave you a nod, albeit unsurely. "Okay, good."

You peeked around the corner towards the Slytherin common room and watched as the door swung open, a first-year girl walking through the doorway. With urgent eyes, you gestured for Peter to carry out his part of the plan. He didn't budge.

"Peter," you whispered, nudging him in the arm.

He turned to you cluelessly. "Hmm?"

You held back a groan, watching as the heavy door shut behind the first-year, your opportunity disappearing. "Okay, so we don't know the plan then?"

Peter looked at you guiltily. "Sorry, I spaced out when you went over it the first time."

"It's okay Pete," chimed Sirius. "I did too."

It took everything in you to stay quiet and not scold the two of them. You were already nervous enough. "I'm gonna go over it one more time, so everyone listen this time." You heaved a breath in. "First we need to make sure we can get the common room door open. Pete, you're going to wait until a Slytherin opens the door, and then run out in your animagus form and nudge that stone on the ground over there into the doorway. Got it?"

You turned to Peter, who was listening this time rapt with attention. He nodded.

"Good. Then, all we need you to do is make sure the Slytherins' bathroom doors are open, and that way James can hold the main door open so Remus can summon the bottles, about a dozen at a time."

"What?" Peter's eyes were wide and shifting around unsurely. "I have to go into the dorms? No way."

"It'll only be for a quick moment, Pete," you said, trying to comfort him.

"Yeah," encouraged Remus. "And you'll be in your animagus form, so nobody will even notice you. You don't even have to go inside the bathrooms, just make sure they're opened a crack. You'll be in and out."

You all stared at Peter expectantly, watching as he seemed to mull over the plan in his head. "I don't know."

"What's the worst that can happen?" sang Sirius. "If anything, they notice a rat in the dorms and go yelling. But this school has had rats before, so."

James stared at Sirius with widened eyes. "Don't give him any ideas, Pads." He put a hand on Peter's shoulder. "It'll go great. If anybody can do this, Pete, it's you."

James's determined words mixed with the sincerity in his eyes seemed to work, something you figured came from all his practice giving pep talks as Quidditch Captain. It took him a moment, but Peter eventually nodded, though he still didn't seem perfectly convinced.

You you looked at him meaningfully. "We won't let anything happen to you Peter, promise." That seemed to help, and you finished explaining the rest of the plan to your friends hurriedly.

You stared at the four of them once you finished. "Is everyone good with the plan now?" You rolled your eyes as Sirius raised his hand.

"All I'm saying is, everything would been a whole lot easier if we just drank Polyjuice Potion and turned ourselves into Slytherins like I said."

Remus sighed. "I already told you that Polyjuice Potion takes at least a month to brew."

"Yeah," you countered. "And besides, did you want to morph into Marcus Craggy, or were you planning on making one of us do it?"

"Oh please," Sirius laughed like you were the crazy one. "Don't be silly. Everyone knows I would've turned into a girl. That way I could-"

You held up a hand, cringing. "Don't finish that sentence, please."

Another ten or so minutes went by, though the way some of the others were acting would've had you believe it'd been close to ten hours.

"Remind me again how much longer we're going to have to sit here for?" Maybe it was the stress you'd been feeling for the past couple of days, but Sirius's sass had never been as irritating to you as it was then.

You sighed. "We could've been halfway done already if you'd all listened to the plan the first five times I said it."

"Well, we wouldn't need the plan if you'd just gotten the passwords to the Slytherin common room from Vance like we asked you to."

You reeled at the aggravating topic that he and James seemed to love to bring up. "Are you kidding me?"

"No, I'm serious."

You squinted your eyes at him and whatever joke he was trying to make in a moment you did find funny whatsoever. "How would I have even gone about asking for a thing like that anyway? It's completely ridiculous."

Sirius barked out a laugh much too loud for the setting you were in. "Oh please. The bloke obviously likes you. All you would've had to do is bat your eyelashes and he would've handed it right over."

You squinted at him annoyedly in the dark lighting. "What the hell are you talking about?"

To your surprise, James groaned, leaning back against the wall. "Enough Sebastian talk, please." His tone was grim and tight, contrasting Sirius's overly loud drawl.

"Come on Prongs, just because you're jealous that-"

"Shh, look."

You all stopped arguing at Remus's call, turning to peak back towards the hall where a Slytherin boy was entering. You didn't have any time to think over whatever Sirius had begun to say, your mind settling itself on putting the plan you'd spent so much effort trying to formulate into action.

"Pete," you whispered. "That's your cue."

Ignoring the fact that he looked like he was going to be sick, you watched as Peter took a shaky step away from the group and, before your eyes, morphed into a measly rat at your feet. The sight was never something you could get used to.

Just as you'd told him to, Peter scurried across the hallway behind the Slytherin boy and, right as the door to the common room was about to close, rolled the stone you'd placed on the ground into the doorway. When it shut behind the boy, you could see the gap in the doorway that told you your plan was a go.

"Alright Wormtail!" Sirius whispered from across the hall, and you all watched silently as the little rat looked back toward the four of you before scampering into the Slytherins' common room.

"Bless the lad," you heard Sirius say from behind you, sounding overly sentimental.

"Let's hope he won't need any blessings if everything goes according to plan." You let out a breath. "Okay, next step. We need to see where the prefects are on their rounds. Who has the map?"

You looked between the three boys, watching as they all stared back at you with blank eyes. Your mouth hung in disbelief. "Don't tell me we forgot the map again." At that point, it was getting harder and harder to keep your voice to a secretive whisper.

"Relax," said James, voice hushed. "Padfoot has it."

Sirius scoffed, turning towards the brunette. "Prongs, I think I would know if I had it-"

"Turn around."

Sirius frowned. "What?"

James stared back at him with a confident set in his eyes. "Just turn around."

"Really?" Sirius fawned with a smirk. "In front of all these people?"

James shook his head, though you knew he could never resist a dirty joke. He hid his boyish grin and cleared his throat, gesturing to Sirius curtly. "Pads, c'mon."

At that, Sirius turned around with his back facing you, and lo and behold, you could see the corners of the map peaking up helplessly from the back of his pants.

You put an exasperated hand up to your forehead, features twisting painstakingly. "Why the bloody hell is it in your pants, Sirius?"

Sirius looked back over his shoulder towards the map, face screwed up in confusion. "I honestly don't remember putting it there."

You stared at him for a moment in disbelief. "Well, can you take it out please so we can finish the prank?"

"Of course, m'lady." He flashed you a grin you absolutely did not like the look of. "You sure you don't wanna do it yourself?" James elbowed Sirius in the side, his smile swapping itself out for a roll of his eyes. "Alright, alright."

The three of you looked on as he contorted his body to reach for the map, his struggle not seeming anything but overdramatic to you as you waited impatiently.

"C'mon Pads," chided James as he went to reach for the map despite its location.

"No, almost got it." The site of him losing a match against his own pants threatened to make you laugh even with how on edge you were, though you dropped your smile when he finally pulled the map free, only to drop it. You watched with horror as it slid onto the ground, out into the middle of the hallway.

"Great." You sighed at the site of the folded paper sitting unguarded out in the open and the fact that you had no idea where the prefects were on their rounds.

"Don't worry," cooed Sirius. "I'll get it." He took a confident stride forward, but you put a hand out just as fast.

"No," you warned, not having faith in his stealthiness after what you just witnessed. "Just- just stay where you are. I'll get it."

With that, you checked that the coast was clear on both sides before stepping out of the hidden passageway and into the open corridor, ignoring the irritated look you knew Sirius was giving the others at your orders.

With your heart beating fast in your chest and a glance at the slightly ajar Slytherin common room door, you bent over swiftly and picked up the map. Once it was secured in your hands you could already feel your senses returning to normal, though that feeling left as soon as it came.

You stood back up and were face to face with a body in Slytherin robes, your reflexes hiding the map behind your back right away.

"Sebastian!" you put on a cheesy smile in greeting before you could even think straight, though maybe it was because seeing the familiar face gave you some relief.

"Hey," he greeted back, and then you watched him process the fact that you were in the dungeons all alone. "What're you doing down here?"

You spoke before you even thought about what to say. "I was, uhm, seeing Slughorn for some extra help. Felt extra motivated after yesterday." Nice one. How easily the lie came to you concerned you.

"That's great." Sebastian's voice was warm, though there was a tug between his brow as he glanced over your nervous figure. "Are you alright?" his frown deepened. "Did Slughorn say something?"

It took you a second before remembering what he was referring to. Your lie, right.

"What? Oh, no, he didn't say anything bad. I'm great, really." You nodded at him and watched his features lighten up again, and then you felt bad because of how much he seemed to really care, and about the fact that you were lying straight to his face. You'd been doing more lying than you would've liked as of late.

Right when you were about to say something else, maybe wish him goodbye, you heard a small clang come from the knight armor to your right, and you mentally cursed because it came right from where you knew the boys were hiding.

Crap, you thought as you remembered they were listening to everything. You'd almost forgotten. You spared a glance over to where you knew they were hiding out, and luckily couldn't see anything. Hopefully, that meant Sebastian couldn't either as he surveyed the source of the noise.

You turned back to him, offering a smile you hoped looked as genuine as you meant it to as you freaked out internally. "Well, it was nice seeing you, Sebastian," you said through tight lips. "Night."

He looked back at you with the air of confusion at your rushed tone but didn't question you. "Yeah, goodnight." He nodded back and you, trying not to look suspicious, walked past him as if you wouldn't turn around in a second once he left.

"Actually," he called, and you turned right back around fast enough to give you whiplash, trying to keep the map hidden behind your back. "I've been meaning to ask you something. I wanted to yesterday, actually, before we got interrupted."

"Yeah," you rushed in, cringing at the memory and mentally cursing James. "So sorry about that. James feels sorry too, about the whole potions thing, in case he hasn't apologized already." You said the last bit with emphasis because you knew he hadn't, even after all your chiding.

"It's alright, Madam Pomfrey didn't even have to do anything. And, I hope you fixed your emergency, by the way." He was referencing the 'emergency' that James had interrupted you over, one that made you fight shaking your head at the memory.

You only smiled. "Yeah, we did, thanks."

"Great," said Sebastian, and he put his hands in his pockets, looking visibly tense. Then he took one hand out to rub it over the back of his neck, not saying anything for a moment as you both stood in the hallway.

"Sebastian?" you called, and that seemed to bring him back to life.

"Right, sorry." He exhaled, looking at you meaningfully. "I guess what I've been meaning to ask was, would you want to go to the Hogsmeade trip this weekend? With me?"

You paused your thoughts, stilling at his words. Whatever you'd expected him to say before, it was certainly not that.

You didn't know what to say right away, or how to react. He was waiting for you to say something, and you definitely wanted to, but you just didn't know what. Something warm did bloom in your stomach though, and the shadows of a smile grew on your face because someone was asking you on a date. Sebastian Vance was asking you on a date.

"So?" Sebastian asked softly and you turned your attention back to him. You didn't know how long you'd left him standing there as you became lost in your thoughts, but looking at his hopeful eyes and friendly smile, you felt like the answer you came up with was plain as day.

"Yes."

"Yes?" he asked, and maybe you hadn't spoken loud enough, or maybe he was in disbelief, but you could see a smile breaking out on his face and it felt almost contagious.

"Yes," you repeated through a smile of your own. "I'd love to go on a date with you, Sebastian." Your eyes widened. "It is a date, right?"

He laughed, soft and quiet in the empty hallway. "Yeah, it's a date. That is, if you're alright with that."

You chuckled shyly, feeling unfamiliar in your own skin. Was this really happening? "I'm alright with that."

"Great." Sebastian clapped his hands together low in front of him, chest rising and falling steadily as if some great weight had been lifted from him. He looked almost radiant—he was a good-looking boy, might you add. "You know, I wasn't exactly sure you'd say yes with Potter and all."

You paused, smile swapping out for a confused frown. "What?"

Sebastian looked at you like then like he'd hit a nerve and was suddenly cautious. He put his hands in his pockets again, shrugging it away. "It's nothing, never mind."

You tried to make your face more casual and less alarmed. "No, really. What do you mean?"

Sebastian seemed to pause for a second in thought like he was weighing his options, before letting in. "It's just that, I don't know, I thought you and Potter were kind of an item. At least at one point. A lot of people do." His words seemed to flow out endlessly and you couldn't believe you were hearing them right. "And you know, with the rumors about you guys, er, in the broom closet and all, I wasn't sure-"

"On my God no," you cut in quickly, feeling both mortified with flames at your cheeks and angry at whoever started them. "Those were just rumors. Godric, I don't even know how they started. James and I are friends. Just friends."

Even if Marlene and Lily had always poked fun at you about the topic, you'd never actually thought about what others thought of you and James. Could they see your crush on him during all these years too? The fact that Sebastian had assumed you might be together made you feel ... you didn't know how it made you feel.

But none of that mattered now. What you said was true: you and James were just friends. You wouldn't let the possibility of anything else interfere with your love life, or your lack of one, rather. At least not anymore. You thought about what Sirius had said to you the other night and hated him slightly less for it.

"Well that's good to know," said Sebastian contently, taking you out of your spiraling thoughts. "So, I'll see you then?"

You were about to say "yes," and finally wish him a goodnight until a high-pitched and truly ear-cover-worthy scream sounded from the Slytherin common room. Not more than a second sooner did you watch as a rat, not just any rat—Peter—scurried out of the small crack in the doorway and down the hallway.

You'd momentarily forgotten where you were and exactly what you'd been in the middle of doing before Sebastian had stopped you, and the site of Peter was a blaring reminder. You thanked Merlin that Sebastian had his back to the door because somehow he hadn't noticed Peter running panicked right past his feet.

He turned to you in confusion and some horror. "What the hell was that about?" he looked between you and the common room door, laughing, and you laughed too, albeit nervously to mask your horror.

"No idea."

Thanks to the commotion that the rat spotting had caused in the Slytherin dorms, your carefully planned prank had, for lack of a better word, gone to shit.

Peter had returned to the boys' dorm early after the chaos of his being discovered and hadn't come back. None of you blamed him very much, though. Especially not after Filch's cat Mrs. Norris made an unexpected appearance on the Marauder's map, and you all watched anxiously as she chased him all the way back to the dorms.

"'Was bloody horrifying," shuttered Peter as he took a seat on his bed. You'd all headed back to the dorms once you realized there was no way you'd be able to finish the prank after that.

"We're so sorry Pete." You sat down on the bed next to him. "I really didn't think they'd notice you. They usually don't."

"Yeah," added Remus. "And I don't know how we missed Mrs. Norris on the map. It's our bad, really."

"Some first-year girl threw a book at me. Nearly missed my head!" Peter rubbed at the back of his skull as if he could still feel the almost-impact.

Sirius walked over, patting him on the head. "We'll get our revenge soon, Wormy. Don't you worry."

You stared up at him wryly. "We will not be 'getting revenge' on an eleven-year-old, Sirius."

"Of course not," he rang, patting you on the head too, which you batted away. "I only meant with the hair dye, is all." You ignored the wink you saw him give Peter as he went to sit on his own bed.

You watched as James walked into the dorm room last, sitting on his bed next to Peter's wordlessly. You all had a defeated air to you because of the failed prank, though James looked the worst.

"C'mon guys," you urged. "It could've gone a lot worse."

Peter shook his head from next to you. "Could it have? I almost got eaten by a cat."

"Yeah," Sirius said, tone sour. "Excuse us for being so down about that disaster of a prank. Not all of us scored a date from it, you know."

You looked down at your lap with a scoff. "I knew you wouldn't let that go."

"Did you really expect us to? I mean, really? That Slytherin bloke?"

"Oh my God." You shook your head. "I am done listening to you all groan about your house rivalry. Him being a Slytherin has nothing to do with whether or not I should date him."

Sirius looked squinted over at you, looking like he had a thousand responses on the tip of his tongue, but then he shrugged. "Okay, fine. But house aside, Vance is a total player."

You scoffed again in annoyance. "He is not." You traced back all memories of the boy in your mind and could think of maybe two other girls that he's dated. You rolled your eyes. "And I find it pretty ironic that you of all people are calling someone a player, Sirius."

He laughed, obviously finding the conversation much more amusing than you were. "Do you even like him?"

You were getting more worked up than you would've liked, confused as to why Sirius was challenging this so much when he was just lecturing you about never going on dates. "What is there not to like?" you retorted. "He's nice, smart, he's a great Potions partner-"

"But do you like him?" Sirius cut you off with a seriousness in his tone, looking at you challengingly. A silence filled the room for a moment, the others all sprawled around it as an audience to the argument you wanted nothing to do with.

You stared back at him, considering things in your head for a moment before answering. "Yes, I do." You put a hand on your hip. "Are you happy?"

Sirius didn't respond to your frustrated question, shifting his gaze to something behind you. "Prongs, what do you think about all of this?"

You frowned at the unexpected change of focus, following Sirius's eye-line over to James, who sat on his bed, hunched forward with his elbows to his knees. He looked pensive, maybe still defeated from the prank, but something unidentifiable simmered behind his gaze, seeming to harden it. You didn't know what it was and you didn't know what Sirius was trying to do by involving him either.

He was silent for long enough that you were beginning to think he hadn't heard Sirius, until he shrugged. "I just can't believe you're missing our first Hogsmeade trip of the year."

If there was anything you were expecting James to say, it wasn't that. You ran a hand through your hair. "I guess I hadn't really thought about that." You turned to James thoughtfully. "It isn't like I'll be gone the whole day. And there will be other Hogsmeade trips for us to all go to, right?"

"We always spend the first one together, though," James said, tone heavy.

"He's right," Peter agreed. "It's practically a tradition."

You sat back down on the bed, feeling tired. "What do you guys want me to do? Tell him I can't go out with him?"

"Of course not," Remus chimed. "We're happy for you. They're just saying they're gonna miss you being there on Saturday, is all." He stared at the others expectantly. "Right guys?"

It took a second, but they all nodded, some apologies muttered, and you'd never been so thankful for Remus.

"Thank you," you said sincerely. "That means a lot." You sat in thought for a moment, before an idea sprang into your mind. "Why don't we all go get butterbeers from the kitchen like we always do after a prank?"

"After a successful prank," Sirius corrected.

"Yeah, I don't know if I'm in the mood to celebrate." Peter looked like he was reliving the horrors of the rat fiasco in his head again.

"It would cheer you up though, wouldn't it?" You nudged Peter's side before standing up. "Come on." You pulled on his arm until he was standing up lazily, though you knew he was fighting a smile. "Let's go. The house elves would love it if we paid them a visit." You motioned for them all to follow as you walked towards the door, Sirius and Remus doing just that, but James stayed put. "James?" you called. "You coming?"

He looked up at you from where he sat, face seeming drained of any excitement at the prospect of his favorite drink, eyes avoiding yours. "I think I'll just stay back."

Your brows furrowed in concern at his dejected voice and unconvincing flash of a smile, and you took a step closer to him. "Are you sure? You never turn down a butterbeer."

His face had gone stonelike and revealed little to nothing, but you knew something was off. "Just don't feel up to it. You guys go."

You didn't budge right away, looking at your friend more closely in an attempt to figure out what was wrong, but Remus stepped in front of you.

"You guys head to the kitchens. James and I will catch up, just give us a minute."

You stood there, looking back and forth between Remus and James unsurely like there was some unspoken secret they both shared. Remus met your eyes, nodding at you assuredly, and you relented, glancing back at a confused James before leaving the dorm room. Sirius and Peter followed behind you.

"What do you think that's all about?" Peter asked as the three of you walked through the common room to the portrait exit.

"It's James," Sirius responded naturally. "It's probably either about Quidditch or Evans."

By the time the three of you all made your way down to the kitchens and ordered up five butterbeers, Remus had followed through on his promise and had James following him into the kitchen, though he looked a tad off. Not his energetic James self, his head was slightly hung forward with his hands in his pockets.

Remus took the spot next to Sirius at the table you sat at, and James took the spot next to you. You peeked over at him concernedly, but he didn't look up from wherever he was staring off.

"Alright," Sirius announced. "Now that we're all here," he picked up his butterbeer, "let's make a toast, shall we?"

"To what exactly?" asked Peter. "Not like we can toast to a good prank."

"I know," you said as you raised your glass. "To a great school year and successful future pranks."

"Yes," agreed Sirius. "And to many more hot Hogsmeade dates."

Laughter bubbled from Peter and Remus with your lips parting in alarm, though you were holding back laughter too. "Sirius," you chided, and he shrugged.

"Only being supportive."

With a roll of your eyes, your glass collided with three others, one glass missing from the toast.

"James?" you called. His eyes snapped up like he hadn't even noticed the conversation going on. You turned to him with a lowered voice that revealed your worry. "Is everything okay?"

He cleared his throat slightly, eyes not meeting yours, though you could've sworn he shared a look with Remus. "Yeah, sorry." He hurriedly raised his glass too. "Cheers," he added, and took a sip of his butterbeer that had his head tipping back.

The others seemed to overlook James's odd mood and conversation flowered regularly for the rest of the night, though you noticed time and time again James's offness in the way he talked less, or the times he'd space out or seem distant.

After some time the five of you headed back to the common room. Even during the walk back James was a few feet ahead of the group, veering off into his dorm room before you could even say goodnight. You stood there in uncomfortable thought, staring at the staircase he'd just climbed before Remus came to stand by your side.

"You alright?" he asked, and you could see from your peripheral the way he peered at you in curiosity.

"What happened back there with James?" You shifted to face him, watching as he waved an arm casually.

"Nothing, really." You gaped at him disbelievingly at his obvious avoidance of your question. "He'll be alright," he added under your scrutiny. "He's just having an off night."

"What'd you say to him to get him to come with us to the kitchens?"

"You just have all the questions lined up, don't you?"

You glared at him and his sudden annoying sense of humor. "Remus."

"Alright, alright," he chuckled, putting his hands in his pockets. "I just told him to lighten up," he shrugged. "Be happy for you, is all."

Your mind faltered, eyes widening. "You think he's upset about me?"

Instead of answering your question, Remus simply tipped his head down, a one-sided smile tugging at his lips.

"What?" You pried, feeling like there was some big joke you'd been left out on. Remus looked back up at you, shaking his head, but you were feeling more irritated than playful. "No seriously, what?"

With a knowing glint in his eye, Remus bowed his head before taking a step back towards the steps. "Night."

It took you a second to realize he was going off to bed and ignoring your question, leaving you clueless in the common room.

"Remus Lupin!"

Your shouts only met his back as he disappeared up the steps. You huffed. When Remus really wanted to, he had it in him to be even more aggravating than Sirius in a bad mood.

taglist!! ->

@hisparentsgallerryy @msmk11 @garfieldsladybird @empath-bunny @urmykindofwoman

[traceyc-uk]

Based on a comment by @raenegade-accio in this post 😆 prefect senses tingling @lil-grem-draws, and these two maniacs @diana-bluewolf

[leona-hawthorne]

congratulations on 1k! can I get a latte art? I’m a Gryffindor and my favourite class is Astronomy. congrats again!

thank you!! hope you like it 💝😚

1k celebration navigation latte art

ミ★ FULL OF SURPRISES… theodore nott

Astronomy class wan’t for another three days, but there you were, perched on the stone floor under the open sky, muttering incantations and waving your wand. It wasn’t your usual choice of study spots, but this was the best place to see the constellations—plus, the stars shimmering against the ink-black night helped you focus. Or at least, that was the idea.

So far, your “focus” had resulted in three singed pages of parchment, a wand sparking uncontrollably, and an inkpot rolling perilously close to the edge of the tower.

“Accio inkpot,” you whispered sharply, pointing your wand.

Instead of gliding into your hand, the inkpot shot past you like a rogue Bludger, colliding with the stone wall. You winced at the echoing smash.

“That was tragic,” drawled a voice behind you.

You froze, the words registering in your mind like a delayed firework. Slowly, you turned toward the source of the voice. There he was—Theodore Nott, half in shadow, leaning against the doorway with an air of effortless detachment. His tie was loose, and the moonlight glinted off the silver ring on his finger. You’d seen him before, of course, in the halls and in the occasional shared class. He was that Slytherin boy—the quiet one with sharp cheekbones and sharper eyes.

“I didn’t realize I had an audience,” you said, heat creeping up your neck.

“Well, you certainly made an impression.” He stepped forward, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. His smirk was small, but undeniably cocky. “What are you doing up here? Astronomy isn’t until Thursday.”

“I’m practicing,” you said defensively, gesturing toward the open textbook beside you. “Not all of us can coast through homework without trying.”

“Is that what you were doing?” His gaze flicked to the scattered remnants of your inkpot and the slightly charred edges of your parchment. “Because it looks more like you’re staging a battle scene.”

You huffed, scooping up your wand as if you could salvage your dignity with a well-aimed glare. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”

“Ah, Gryffindor pride.” His voice was teasing, but his tone was light. He crouched beside you, his movements so smooth you barely noticed he’d joined you until he was close enough for you to see the faint crescent scar just above his left eyebrow. “If you’re trying to map constellations, you might want to use the Starlight Charm instead of… whatever that was.”

You blinked at him, startled. “How do you—”

He cut you off with a knowing smirk. “How do I know that? Because some of us actually pay attention in Astronomy.” He reached over, his fingers brushing against yours as he straightened your wand. “Here. Like this.”

The warmth of his touch was fleeting, but it left your skin buzzing. You hesitated, watching him as he pointed your wand toward the sky and muttered an incantation. A faint, silvery glow emitted from the tip, soft and steady, casting an ethereal light over the parchment. The constellations on the page aligned perfectly with the stars above, and for the first time all evening, your work actually made sense.

You stared at the parchment, then at him. “You’re annoyingly good at this.”

He leaned back on his heels, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “It’s a gift. Don’t take it too hard—learning from a Slytherin isn’t the end of the world.”

“Oh, believe me, I’m taking it very hard,” you deadpanned, but there was a spark of humor in your tone.

Theodore chuckled, low and quiet, the sound unexpected but not unwelcome. “Tell you what,” he said, standing and brushing nonexistent dust from his trousers, “if you manage to get an O on this assignment, I might even let you thank me later.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re awfully confident for someone who just invited himself to my study session.”

“I wouldn’t call this a session,” he quipped, walking backward toward the doorway. “But you’re welcome, anyway.”

With a last smirk, he turned and disappeared down the staircase, leaving you staring after him, unsure whether you were more flustered or amused.

[sebastianswallows]

It's not like any other love | S.S. | Part 1

— PAIRING: dark!Sebastian Sallow x F!MC

— SYNOPSIS: In order to cast an unforgivable curse, you have to mean it. So how does Sebastian make himself want to hurt the girl he’s been harbouring a huge crush on?

— WARNINGS: angst, jealousy, unrequited love (or is it?), hurt/comfort, abstractly violent imagery, suggestive wand-work, and just an unfun time in the catacombs with Sebby and Omi and the MC that’s caught between them.

— WORDCOUNT: 1.3k

— A/N: Not beta read (except by remus-levioso 🙏 tysm) or existing with any sense or purpose. I just wanted to write something for this little troublemaker and I couldn’t stop thinking about how Sebby could hurt MC when he only seems to have positive feelings about her. I started to think about how he could hype himself up to wanting to hurt her, and just went down a rabbit hole of angst. Spoilers for the game, obvi. I hope you enjoy this, my lovelies 💞

“It won’t work unless you really mean it,” said Ominis, or something along those lines… Sebastian was already a wreck of fidgeting and frets as he stood in front of that door of marbled horror, watching from the corner of his eye while his new friend tried to get Ominis to cast the unforgivable. He didn’t want to think that they were doomed to die here, even with Noctua Gaunt’s skeleton beside him — he couldn’t accept it. Sebastian would batter his head against this problem, like he had done with every other one before it, and prevail.

He tapped his foot on the floor and slid a glance to Ominis again. As expected, he was shaking his head “no” and physically distancing himself from the new fifth year. Coward, Sebastian thought before he could stop himself — because it wasn’t fair, he reasoned, to hold it against Ominis after what he’d been through with his family. He promised himself he’d understand his friend, would sympathise, would listen… But what a coward.

“Ominis won’t cast it,” said the girl once she was by his side again. “What do we do now?”

And that’s how it started.

Sebastian was soon placed in the uncomfortable position of having to give free rein to those parts of himself he had, especially as of late, try to restrain. He was striving to be softer, gentler, more understanding — for Anne’s sake if not his own, and Ominis seemed to appreciate it too, and it wouldn’t do to scare off their new friend either. How sad, then, that casting the curse meant that Sebastian had to dig up all those freshly buried feelings that caused him so much regret — and all of them about the girl before him.

He prepared to cast the curse. In his mind, with one quick force of will, memories of recent days were summoned to the surface.

First, he brought up that spark of envy from when she first defeated him, at the duel in Professor Hecat’s class — the twinge of shame as well, because he liked it, because he wasn’t even mad that she had bested him, because she was genuinely better. Better than him? Hatred, jealousy, resentment.

Second, their meeting in the Charms class — which didn’t happen because she sat next to a Gryffindor and why? Why? Did she think him not good enough to sit with?! He’d joked to Ominis about casting Accio on people, certain that his blind friend wouldn’t know who he was looking at, but from Ominis’ suggestive retort — “Well, you’d be using it on clothing to be precise, Sebastian.” — he couldn’t be too sure of that. And how cruel of Ominis, if he said it on purpose, to make him think of summoning the clothes off her, pulling her toward him, landing her naked and helpless, in his arms… Resentment, longing, complete and utter despair.

Third, the Library. After he offered to show her the forbidden section, after he waited for her by the stairs for hours like a lovestruck puppy, after he protected her and took detention for her… all she had to say was “thanks”? He’d never felt so stupid as when he realised he expected far too much for far too little — because the only thing he really had to offer to her was himself, his knowledge, his skills, his sacrifice. Was he just not chivalrous enough? Was he not impressive enough? Was he just not… enough, at all? Despair, shame, crippling self-pity.

But she was enough for him — or so it seemed to his stupid smitten head, his roiling heart, his swirling dreams at night like so many teasing mermaids tucked behind their algae in the lake, like her in her forbidden bedroom up the stairs that slid beneath his feet — after just a couple of duels and a nighttime escapade among his favourite books and a trip to Hogsmeade to the flutter of lacewing flies (and the thumping of trolls). Sebastian couldn’t remember the last time he was so smitten so quickly and he wasn’t even sorry, he gladly shared every secret with her one by one just to see the sparkle in her eyes and would go into the deepest dungeon with her just to show off and he caught himself saying the stupidest most barefaced lies just to see her smile.

But no, she was impressed with Ominis, and his ability to talk to snakes, his sad past, his Undercrof… What a fool. Ominis wouldn’t be the least bit interested, he was too caught up in himself, too distant, too troubled — and in his more humane moments, Sebastian felt sorry for him, which perfectly counterbalanced the moments when he wished he’d been born in Ominis’ stead and had parents that taught him forbidden spells and told him all the time about his great lineage descending straight from Salazar himself. Oh. Of course she’d like Ominis better. Ominis, tragic and handsome and kind, who knew all the darkest curses and a catalogue of hexes and worse, who would rather die than hurt her. Well, Sebastian could do better than that, at least — he’d hurt her eagerly.

She wanted to learn the curse, she said. So he taught her. He showed her the motion, took her cold and clammy hand in his and guided her wand from behind, whispered the curse in her ear until he was satisfied she did it right —

“You need to say it as your wand descends.”

“Now?”

“No, start from higher. Like this, arm bent… Toward me. Closer.”

“Now?”

“Yes. Like cutting through flesh. Strong, forward motion.”

“Like this?”

“Just like that. Perfect, you’re perfect. I love teaching you curses, you’re so good… so good at it. Now, say it as I told you to.”

— and then, once she was ready, Sebastian took his place before her.

For once, Sebastian forgot how he felt about himself, and focused his emotions — mixed and myriad and primal — on her. It was, unsurprisingly, very easy. With the warm and soapy scent from behind her little ear and the tickle of her hair against his lips still fresh, he said it. The curse was tinged with his resentment for her, his jealousy of her, his yearning and hatred and want.

The flash of red moved in such a way as to cleave her open, as if he could, with a bolt of light, break her apart and peel her ribs away one at a time until he could get right to her heart, cup it in his hands, and steal it away.

What a piercing cry she gave, high and frail and consummately feminine. From the side of his senses, Sebastian could tell even Ominis was shaking, there in his corner where he cowered from the act. He could hardly blame his friend, it made his skin shiver too to get her to sound like that, to bring her to her knees, to make her moan and tremble with the aftershocks of pain. He’d admired her before, but now he just desired her — she’d never looked softer, more mortal, more fleeting, her skin drained of all colour as blood rushed away to escape the pain, her bones looking delightfully breakable, her chest heaving with sinking breaths that choked her and strangled her from within and left her dizzy. Sebastian was by her side as soon as the curse was over, equal parts fascinated and contrite, hands burning with the desire to just hold her.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Part of him hoped more than anything that she was, that she forgave him, that she understood he had to do it. But another part wanted to see her scarred and ruined and at his mercy, his to nurture back to health, his to sustain, his to hold.

She got up before he even got to touch her, his hand left hovering in the air just above where she shoulder had been, and beside them the door of muted screams melted away, revealing the Scriptorium.

[novelizt]

EXPECTO PATRONUM II ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

GENRE ➺ HOGWARTS AU [slytherin! lockwood x fem! ravenclaw! reader]. rivals to lovers (and a dash of 'everyone knows but them'). fluff and angst.

WC ➺ 17.4k

SYNOPSIS ➺ after a six year rivalry with lockwood, your patronus suddenly matches his when it didn't before.

DISCLAIMER ➺ reader is implied to be shorter than lockwood. appearance of harry potter next gen characters and a few ocs. lockwood calls reader 'sweetheart' and 'dearest vexation', (+'my girl). prefect! lockwood. jessica lockwood lives!! (i also headcanon him being a cunning-flirt, so lockwood might read slightly ooc.)

WARNINGS ➺ strained family dynamics (for reader). boggarts, and a lot of unpolished dialogue. QUILL KIPPS. blood and injuries (tending to wounds). mentions of kids and marriage at the end.

⚜ PART 1 | SERIES MASTERLIST

In true Slytherin and Gryffindor fashion, neither of the boys hesitated. Lockwood swung a hex at you. You deflected with a basic protego. He advanced, closing the distance to aim better.

On the other side, Daria flung offensive spells at James. She managed to cast levicorpus on him. He hung upside down, chained in the air. That didn't dampen the flames of his spirit. He threw more charms and jinxes at her. She responded just as quickly.

You almost lost sight of Lockwood before he casted an impressive disillusionment charm on himself. He melted into the background as your blood rushed. You opened your senses and spun revelios in attempt to unveil him.

James's feet found the floor thanks to Lockwood, and the Potter striked a petrificus totalus back at Daria. Instead of turning his attention on you, James nodded to the air and sat like his part was done. He was heaving but smirking.

The hairs on your neck rose and you turned to dodge a stupefy the still disillusioned Lockwood slung at you. You could only hear your breathing and your shoes tapping.

Every hair on your body stood as paranoia sunk in. You're tempted to give up, but you remembered who you were up against and regained your resolve.

You backed against one side of the cage, leaving three directions he could come at you from. In that position, he couldn't catch you from behind.

You'd obviously underestimated Lockwood's growth. The last time you saw him cast a spell as impressive as his disillusionment was the sleeping trance charm he used on the dragon. He used your lack of knowledge against you and you were both impressed and frightened by it.

You remind yourself that you were a Ravenclaw, one of the most highly acclaimed students under Professor Flitwick and the brightest witch of your age.

Everytime you won against Lockwood, it was because you were using your head. Then, it finally clicked for you.

You held out your wand and went on a limb as you spoke, "Accio Prefect Badge."

You heard a gasp to your left and spun your wand to cast revelio. Lockwood's face appeared, speeding towards you, left hand trying to remove the badge he often boasted about. You couldn't help but smile, raising your wand, ready to cast.

His wand rose to rival yours. You heard the beginnings of an explosion spell before adjusting yourself.

Your hand was furious and your lips moved at a speed you didn't know was possible. The beginnings of his firework charm surged towards you before the sound was cut off by the crippling noise akin to metal meeting metal.

The explosion was engulfed by silvery light. It swallowed the flames until all that remained was your patronus.

They say the devil's in the details, and you forgot about one in particular detail. Your smile faded as a silence befell the room.

Your patronus had stayed a crane. Its wings, pearlescent and broad as it hovered, a carbon copy of Lockwood's.

There was static in your ears. Your face drained of colour and your heart plummeted to your stomach.

The patronus's glow casted a faint veil between you and Lockwood. He looked back at you with a shocked but not surprised expression. Neither of you expected James to raise his wand and stupefy you.

—

Everything was all black for a while. You had no dreams. Yet, somewhere in the void, you began to hear giggles, familiar and chilling.

"Come on now," one spoke.

"Stumped by a stupefy!" another added, this one more energetic.

"And by Jamesie, no less."

"Potters are trouble," the other tutted.

The first gasped. "I saw her lids twitch!"

"We know you're awake already."

You cracked your eyes open, and, sure enough, you're greeted by two golden-haired rascals; Lorcan and Lysander Scamander.

Three years your juniors, they were Ravenclaw's notorious twins who were known to be as caring as they were mischievous.

Your throat dried, your neck stiffened, and you wished the duel was all a dream. You tried to sit up, to no avail.

Lorcan jumped into action, helping you up by propping a pillow behind you whilst Lysander passed you a cup of water. It wasn't spiked with anything, you pleasantly discovered. You finished the whole glass in one fell swoop.

When you shifted to return the glass to the bedside table, you felt a tug on your opposite arm and nearly jumped when you spotted curls of brown crushing your hand. He was slouched but there was no mistaking that resting sad face.

No wonder the twins were so smiley.

You turned to them. "How long has he been here?"

"Asking about him first?" Lorcan grinned.

Lysander cupped his chin. "That's awfully un-rival-like of you."

"Hush. Just tell me."

"Since you asked," Lorcan said with an attitude.

"Tony's been here since lunch," Lysander answered. You laxed. That wasn't so bad, it couldn't have been too long.

"Lunchtime yesterday," Lorcan corrected.

Your soul departed from your body.

"He would have come sooner if Madame Pomfrey didn't keep you under intensive care," Lysander continued, as if that was any better. "No visitors until she deemed you stable enough."

"He's very stubborn, you know."

"I think she knows, Lorcan."

"And you let him?" You kept your voice down but your tone was a borderline shriek.

"He wouldn't let up." Lorcan shrugged.

"Professor Flitwick said the best we could do is bring you two food and drink," Lysander backed up.

Your jaw loosened at the news. "The professors allowed this?"

The pressure on your hand lightened. Your lips smacked shut as Lockwood said, "I'm their best student, they let me do anything."

Say something smart, you told yourself. It's the only right reaction to an egoistic comment like that, but your mental function ceased at the rasp in his voice. His very, very groggy voice that made you feel like you've been hit by lightning.

One hand rested on yours while his other arm lazily held up his head. He looked like he was about to fall asleep again, yet, he looked like he hadn't slept at the same time. Gray swooped under his eyes, he turned more gaunt than the last time you saw him...

Goodness, the last time you saw him. Heat crawled up your neck.

The patronus. The crane, his crane. Now yours, too.

He knows.

The Scamander twins were on the same wavelength because Lorcan hopped onto an empty square of your bed and asked, "So... is it true?"

Lysander crossed his arms and placed them on the bed. "Did your patronus really change?"

"Did it?" Lockwood asked, just to drive the fact home. Though tired, he did that smirk-smile that you've committed to memory.

You blamed your near internal decapitation for your unaligned state of mind. You answered quietly, "It did."

Lorcan and Lysander exchanged looks. Bright-eyed, like they had just discovered a Fantastic Beast of their own. They both leaned toward you, forcing you to lean toward Lockwood to retain some of your personal bubble. He didn't mind, he even squeezed your hand to reassure you.

"How did it happen?"

"What was it before?"

"Did it happen consciously?"

"Did someone cause it to change?"

You didn't know which twin was speaking, their lips were moving at the same time. You processed their words before answering. "It just did. It was a giraffe. No, I didn't expect it to change at all. And I don't know."

The last answer wasn't really a lie. Lockwood didn't do anything special, but your patronus was now miraculously connected to his. He was involved somehow. You would be grasping at straws if you didn't consider your earlier adventures to be the catalyst.

Lorcan and Lysander had a whispery discussion while you drowned in your reverie. When they decided that they were sated with your answers, they waved you goodbye. You faintly hear a muttering of George's name and it all made sense.

George had sent the twins to gather intel because he knew you could never say no to them. That, or he was still upset at you over being dragged into the anti-Amortentia scheme. The bugger.

You sat up despite your aching head, but surrendered the moment Lockwood brushed a finger over your knuckles. It's odd to give in so quickly, but it was too late to go back on it.

Your eyes shifted to him and, just like before, his were already on you. A smile formed on his lips but it wasn't your favourite one. He gave you a tight-lipped grin that matched the ashen grey under his eyes.

"You were stupefied," he said.

You rolled your eyes and pretended not to see his smile grow. The weirdo missed seeing it.

"Unfortunately," he continued. "You had backed yourself too close to Professor's cage. The stupefy basically bludgeoned your skull against the cage and the protective spells sent you in the opposite direction."

Just hearing the technicalities made you grimace. You remained grateful he didn't mention Madam Pomfrey's methods of fixing you up. If you had broken your skull, you wanted to be ignorant of it. Lockwood understood your dread and kept the rest of the details to himself.

That still didn't answer the question that's been at the forefront of your mind. "Why are you here?"

He sucked in an audible breath, eyes wandering. Classic evasive Lockwood move. You already knew he was going to respond with a lie.

"Because I owe you one," he said.

You mastered the art of stoicism, but that didn't take away from the fact that it was harder to practise that time around.

"You don't owe me a thing," you replied, coughing away the dejection that bled into your voice. "We're even. The Romanian Longhorn incident, remember?"

"How could I forget?" He smiled at the floor. Another swipe over your knuckles that sent you into orbit. "But I would have been spell-bound for the rest of my life if you hadn't intervened."

Years—That's how long you'd been avoiding his eyes and how his emotions swam in them, but now, you couldn't convince your angel and devil to look away. Honey in a bottle eyes pried open so raw you physically felt the weight of his words, and then the shackles of your own guilt.

It clawed at your throat, coiling its gangly fingers around your windpipe and choking you until your fears were forced out. "You were spell-bound because of me."

He responded with a frigid laugh. "Are you kidding me?"

Your brows furrowed. "No? Why would I kid about something like this? You were under the influence of Amortentia. It's not the first time a tragedy had come from its misuse. Have we not learned from the story of Vol—"

The cold bit at you as he disentangled his hand from yours, pushing himself back to see you in full. "This is not about the moral of the story or what could've happened. Why are you blaming yourself?" He scoffed. "Sweetheart, you're not the one who tricked me. Some nutter did."

"Listen here," you gave a despondent sigh, crossing your arms and distancing yourself by pressing your back into the pillow. "She wouldn't have done that if you hadn't... been so fixed on me."

"Sorry, is that a sin?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Fancying someone that isn't her isn't a crime. You didn't do anything to hurt me. What she did was the making of her own evils."

"Fancying? Lockwood– Nevermind that. She said—"

"You value her word over mine?"

"No!" Your heart clenched, your mind raced. "Merlin, no. I just mean that you would be better off without me."

Lockwood never looked so frustrated before. Not at you, at least. He pressed his lips together, fists on his hips as he paced.

Your eyes followed in wait. There's not much else you could say. You'd let the biggest resident of your mind go in that one exchange. You didn't take into account how anxious it would make you to see him react.

He stopped, as did your heart. You sat up straighter when he let his arms fall to his sides.

"You are the most despicable woman I have ever met," he said in one breath.

You had a lot to say about that. You were offended, humiliated, and humbled all at once. Yet, he didn't let you say a thing until he finished.

"And I could easily choose some other lovely lady who doesn't give me a migraine every time I speak to them, but I can't. Because I've been taken by you the moment you called me a twat for mistaking a llama and camel even though I am the raised as a muggle between us." He stole a breath to replenish his air. "And I try to make you understand that there is no getting rid of me, but your lack of awareness is equivalent of my lack of failure—"

You rolled your eyes at that and he cracked a smile.

"And if I had to guess, it would take about a million years and triple that of worshipping before I get you to understand that I am hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you; But I'm already aware, and I'm going to spend all of my mortal years trying, and then spend the rest of our reincarnations doing that over and over just so I can be yours. Don't even try to stop me, sweetheart. You know I never give up."

Your cheeks hurt from trying to repress a smile.

"Come on," Lockwood coaxed. "No need to be shy. You can smile, sweetheart."

And so, you did. But you didn't expect the waterworks to begin.

Salty tears slid down your cheeks and into your mouth. You tried to wipe them away to preserve the rest of your dignity in the face of Anthony Lockwood but it was for naught.

Your breath hitched as your chest constricted, but it's the first time you cried tears of joy. You couldn't help but laugh amidst the pain.

Years of trying to prove yourself to your family. Years trying to meet ungodly expectations just to earn your place at their table—they return to you at the same moment. You cried for every minute you fought for a modicum of love from people who preferred pride, all while Lockwood was right there. You didn't see it until he spelled it out for you.

Lockwood washed away the shattering memories with every swipe that dried your tears, then quelled the rest of your fears as his arms came around you.

He held you fast against him. "I hate to say it, but I love the way you keep my feet on the ground. Snarky attitude and all," he said.

Your head hurt from both the injury and the crying, but you'd never felt so seen, so loved.

It was pure instinct to try and hit him. That time, he let you. Your fist met his chest with a dull thud.

"Would you look at that," he chuckled against your hair. "You got me."

He earned a soft laugh from you, and you didn't see it, but he smiled your favourite smile.

You got him in more ways than one.

—

If you admonished one thing, it was whispering behind your back. The likelihood for people to do just that tripled since the patronus business got out.

You and Lockwood, renowned for butting heads at any given opportunity, had the same patronus. They were studying magic. Of course they knew what that meant.

In the recent days, you'd taken to hiding in the confines of the library. If not, you'd be tucking yourself in your room behind a good novel.

Lockwood had taken up the same hobbies.

You pulled a book out of its space to examine the cover, just to double take and peer between the space it left behind. You'd recognise that smirk anywhere. Only Lockwood would pose all suave against a shelf like that.

He smirked. "Like what you see?"

"I don't know. An ogre is covering a pretty, rebound version of Hogwarts, A History."

He laughed all dashingly then closed the book he pretended to read. He came closer, setting his forearm on the shelf.

"I open my heart to you and you wound me. You are a cruel, cruel woman."

"If you didn't like that about me, you would have handed your heart to someone else."

"Have I told you how much I love your feistiness?"

You cheeks strained from holding back a smile. "Bugger off."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then duly decided to drop the act. "I don't feel like being obedient today. Come with me?"

You squinted at him. "Where?"

"It's a secret. Why, you scared, smart girl?"

You pursed your lips, miffed. "Please. You're the bigger pansy between the two of us."

His smile stretched. "Prove it."

"I will."

You returned the book to its place, locking Lockwood out of view. You heard his laugh and stifled yours as he was reprimanded by Madam Pince.

—

Calling Lockwood a danger magnet was putting it lightly. The man actively sought out danger like it was weaved into his state of being.

Somebody had to keep him in check, and some Higher Being had chosen you to be his keeper. So, there you found yourself, at the margins of the Forbidden Forest in the belly of the night.

"If I die, I want a special coffin in the likely event that my corpse leaps out and strangles yours."

"Sweetheart," Lockwood set his hand between your shoulders, easing you forward. "I'd be torn to bits before I ever let anything touch a hair on your head."

"Very reassuring."

He poked his head over your shoulder just to flash you a smile. "I know."

He chuckled as you shoved his face away.

Even if you were braced in your warmest cloak, the chill of being at the thresh of such a foreboding precinct of Hogwarts was overwhelming. It was like being face to face with a Roman Longhorn, except there were more than two eyes on you. You could already see their glowing irises peering at you behind the foliage.

They scrambled for the dark when Lockwood had casted lumos, lighting up the dirt path ahead. He eased his arm over your shoulder, squeezing you to him, before trudging on.

"What are we looking for?" you whispered. In your mind, the less creatures that knew you were ever in the Forbidden Forest, the better.

Students were punished to walk through the very path you were on, and here you and Lockwood stood, walking it on your own volition. Your reason for being there was to prove an arrogant Slytherin wrong, but you were walking the path regardless.

It took a moment for Lockwood to answer. He was already looking between the branches. "Promise you won't behead me if I tell you."

"I would behead you even if I did promise."

His lip quirked. "A spitfire as always."

You feigned politeness. "May I know now, please?"

"Since I'm doomed either way, I won't tell you that we're on the hunt for a unicorn."

Your feet dug into the dirt, halting Lockwood in his path. Disbelief written on your face. "A unicorn?!"

"Well, 'hunt' is an abrasive word. I suppose 'find' is a more apt verb—"

You slapped his chest, and he turned to you with a grin so blinding it outdid the lumos.

You motioned to the vast forest ahead. "Spotting one is as likely as becoming friends with a centaur."

"It isn't impossible," he quipped, as if that would inspire you.

"Lockwood," You pinched the bridge of your nose and exhaled, expelling all your murder ideations in the same breath. "You are as reckless as a Gryffindor."

"I take full offence. Gryffindors rush in with no clear goal. I, on the contrary, have a remarkable one."

You gave him the benefit of the doubt. "What would this 'remarkable' goal be?"

He was the picture of youth as he smiled. "To fulfil a childhood dream."

The nuance was lost on you. You trusted him to not have done something so particularly stupid.

He tapped your chin. "Why the face? You're the one who drew them all over your notebook."

You reeled. "Me? When?"

He looked dumbfounded. "When we met. You threw the whole notebook at me, remember?"

It dawned on you slowly. The cogs finally clicked into place, and you shoved him, just for him to catch your hand and grin.

"You remember it now?" he mused.

He let your hands fall between you, refusing to let you go.

Your cheeks warmed. "That was six years ago. Rowena knows where that notebook is now! I haven't drawn a unicorn since third-year Care of Magical Creatures."

He reclaimed his spot by your side, throwing his arm around you once more. "It's a testament to my impeccable memory."

"Your memory won't help if we're torn apart by rogue beasts," you chastised.

You expected a response. A real, apologetic response. But you watched as his eyes fell over your shoulder and simply stared instead.

You scoffed at him. "You are terrible—"

He cupped a hand over your mouth. "Shh!"

"Woat aye you loofing at?" You shook your head, freeing your mouth. "What are you looking at?"

A smile teased at his lips as he pointed over your shoulder. The glow at the end of his wand died, making the presence of the very real, very majestic unicorn prominent. Its coat shined like it was made of moonlight. You almost forgot to breathe as you watched it with the intrigue of a tyke.

Lockwood was much closer than before. His whispers loud in your ears. "Breathe, sweetheart. Can't have you fainting on me now."

You breathed a laugh then snapped to cover your own mouth. The creature craned its head around, allowing you to glimpse midnight blue eyes before it galloped into the trees. A short but worthwhile encounter.

Lockwood tugged on your arm, bringing you back to the present and leading you out of the forest.

You're still at a loss of words when you glimpsed his triumphant smile. "Not impossible," he reiterated.

You're on the brink of a laugh as you agreed, "Not impossible."

As you broke into safer forest, you realised that night wasn't over. Not for Lockwood, at least. His hand slipped down your arm before he twined his fingers with yours.

His smile brightened when you adjusted your grip to hold him tighter.

"We have one more stop before we succumb to sleep," he told you, leading you through the clearing.

Your curiosity grew as you passed Hagrid's hut. "Somewhere within Hogwarts, I hope. At this point, I find it plausible that you're scheming to sneak out to Hogsmeade."

A metaphorical lightbulb blinked above him. "Not yet, but that is a brilliant idea."

"There isn't a moment of peace when you're involved."

His fingers ghosted over your knuckles. It affected you more than you cared to show.

"Sweetheart, we both know we're susceptible to boredom when it's too quiet."

"I suppose," you hummed.

You did enjoy the cracks in the silence being filled by intelligent squabble or nonsensical arguments. But only if they involved one audacious Slytherin.

Your thoughts turned to static as torchlight began to cast a golden glow in the grass. This clearing was the opposite of empty. Torches and cages inflated where the air should have been. What fit in the cages were what stole the air from your lungs.

Lockwood was absolutely joyed that your first reaction was the dropping of your jaw.

The cages were filled by dragons. Luckily, asleep. The same ones that were supposed to be there for educational purposes.

You heard that they were on the loom for being transported back to Romania, but you never thought that they were being kept this close to the castle.

Lockwood led you by the hand, further between the cages. They shrunk in size until you were at the end of the line, facing a chillingly familiar face.

You laid a hand against the grainy bars, close but not too close to admire the sleeping beast. "The juvenile Romanian..."

Lockwood stared down at the nameplate welded against the bars. "Her name's Gorgonzola."

"She's named after a cheese?"

Lockwood chuckled. You felt the shake of his shoulder through your linked hands. "We were almost wiped out by aged dairy."

"It's a good thing we quelled her then." You nudged his side, and he nudged you right back. "Now, we're able to admire her without the impending threat of death."

"If that incident hadn't occurred, you would still hate me," he chuckled. It came out soulless.

You were taken aback. You weren't his biggest fan, but it would be too dire to say you hated him.

"Lockwood, I wouldn't hate you."

"Well," he downplayed the frown in his tone. "we wouldn't be friends."

You turned to face him. The toes of your shoes bumping his. He looked up, surprise evident in his eyes. You were so close, he could see his own reflection in your eyes.

His eyes followed every movement of your mouth. "Sulking over a version of us that doesn't even exist, snake boy?"

The edges of his lips upturned. "Just considering the possibilities, sweetheart."

You recognised that spark of mischief anywhere. You only had yourself to blame when he'd closed the distance even more.

"Besides," He cupped your cheek, drawing you closer. His fingers tickled the underside of your ear while his thumb brushed your cheek. "I like this reality better."

I do, too, you intended to say, but the words died on your tongue. Your lips parted as he inched closer and closer. Honesty lulling you together.

You felt his lips land on the corner of yours, teasing. You hummed in dismay before he drew away, leaning in to finally—

"Hey! What are you two doing here?" The dragon's caretaker, most likely. By the sound of it, he wasn't happy to see two miscreant students skulking around.

Lockwood bit his tongue, holding back the urge to call out and tell them to shove off just so he had a moment to kiss you—but the look on your face sobered him quickly.

You didn't have the luxury of being involved in trouble as he did. Your family would know if you got into trouble. The dominos would fall, and a sad you was the kind of thing Lockwood casted spells to avoid.

He tightened his hold on your hand. "We'll get back to this," he promised.

You nodded firmly, holding onto him with the same intensity.

Though the moment was left behind, Lockwood clung to the vision of your eyes fluttering shut. Your lovelorn face seared into the back of his mind, keeping him up all night.

—

You didn't know where you and Lockwood stood at that moment in time. You were walking the line between more than friends, less than lovers. Wherever your feet were, you realised you had a lot to make up for.

If he caught you at the right time, you might just blurt out that you loved him, too. You'd been fortunate enough to have the restraint to keep your confession contained.

The thought of telling him felt like bearing your soul. You were unprepared for it. But there were new ambitions that stirred in your thawing heart. They all centred around one, Anthony Lockwood.

You tried to be subtle, but in Lockwood's eyes, you were as subtle as a gun.

You remained your verbally abrasive self (how he found it enamoring eluded you), but you picked up the habit of awarding him with a kiss on the cheek when he drapes an arm over your shoulders. He's yet to brace himself and melts every time.

In the same time frame, you magically found a way to duplicate your notes so he didn't have to hurt his hands to write them.

His hands were perfectly fine. Lockwood said you're insane for it, but you replied with, "have I ever been sane?"

To that he'd shake his head and smile a smile that encompasses a million confessions.

On another morning, a gaggle of first-years delivered a gift box of his favourite knacks from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and Honeydukes sweets. They told him it was from an anonymous benefactor but one look up and his eagle eyes spotted your poorly done disillusionment charm.

He thanked the kids with a smile and sent them off just so he could tap your disillusioned arse as he passed, then had the gall to chuckle at your yelp.

The rest of Hogwarts progressively became aware of the development. Professor McGonagall purposely seated you apart. Professor Flitwick did the opposite. Professor Longbottom occasionally tipped off ideas like hiding spots and locations with a view.

Even Peeves seemed to be aware that you were unofficially an item. To your utmost surprise, the poltergeist took it easy on you.

Your shenanigans began to pay back Lockwood's six years of unnoticed pining. The man of the hour appreciated them but his heart could not take that much affection. Realistically, it could, but he never passed up an opportunity to be dramatic about it. Especially when he caught sight of you in his colours.

It was the last Quidditch match of the year—his final match as a student of Hogwarts; Gryffindor versus Slytherin.

He wholly expected to see you among your housemates, sporting the deep blue you looked so good in or even in red, just to spite him, but his heart stalled when he spotted you in steal-his-heart green.

He knew it was you even from miles away because you were sporting his number and wearing his jersey. The very jersey you said you'd never wear, you wore with a smile so bright it makes the cloudy skies part just for you.

He was just about ready to abandon his broom when you blew a cheeky kiss his way.

"Lockwood!" his teammate called urgently.

Lockwood begrudgingly looked away. He leaned into his broom to chase the Snitch, but he couldn't pry his eyes away from you for too long.

At the tail end of the game, the Snitch hovered right in front of you. You stared at it while Lockwood lunged for it, catching it in his palm and (un)covertly planting a kiss on your cheek.

It sent the stands into uproar and secured another win for Slytherin. He pointed to you as his team threw him up on their shoulders.

—

"You–" He snatched you from your path, beguiling you behind a fluted column. "–are unbelievable."

You smirked when you whirled to face him, resting an arm over his shoulder. The other against his forearm—and you chuckled when you felt him flex his arm to impress you. He couldn't help but smile.

His nose bumped yours, taunting. Judging by the way you raised your head to follow, you wanted the same thing he did.

Unfortunately for you, he was still Lockwood. He pulled his head back to coax that scowl from you. It sent him back to the first time he'd seen that look on your face. The weight of the world lightened every time he saw it.

You're not one to sulk, or beg, or admit you want something. Of course, you changed the topic. "Congratulations on the win, Captain."

"Captain? I like the sound of that." He did his best to remain chivalrous, but the thought of slipping his hands under your—his—jersey to caress your bare waist was meddlesome. It was tempting, and he barely fought the urge by drawing circles over the shirt instead. "Call me captain again, sweetheart."

You must be getting back at him. He had no other explanation for the rapturous grin on your face. "You're being too kind . . . I'm never going to call you that again."

"You are cruel, have I told you that before?"

You laughed, and he felt your breath on his neck. He found it reasonable to assume you're experienced in torturing boys who are in love with you. He clamped his lips when you graced him with a kiss on his chin. So close yet so far. "You love that about me though."

His fingers dug into your sides, keeping you to him even when you tried to pull away. Your fox grin only grew, confirming that you were torturing him on purpose.

He was immediately pardoned from guilt. He slid his hands down, and then up; touching your skin with chilled fingers. His smile reached his eyes as your mouth parted for a gasp.

"I do," he said, playing along and kissing the corner of your lip. "I'm forever harrowed by the very thought of you."

His form of play is quickly dispatched once his eyes meet yours. The mischief died away, leaving something deeper. More amorous. Yearning.

"Anthony..." It's but a whisper, but his fingers grappled to feel more of your skin. You felt them at the curve of your ribs, holding you with the prudence reserved for a fragile thing.

He drew you closer, as if the proximity of your mouths weren't enough to sate his cravings. "Say my name like that again."

"Anthony," you mused.

You're flush to him. If you were any closer, you'd feel his smirk against you, on your lips or your skin. You weren't picky.

His voice dropped to a lower register. "Yes, sweetheart?"

You lifted yourself on your toes. You met his eyes, but they travelled to his lips with intent. His eyes fluttered shut, transfixed on your smell, your hand tangling into his hair, your breath fanning his lip—everything. You drew closer and closer. He almost tasted the satisfaction of finally kissing–

"You better not be snogging behind there!" Kat Godwin, the dementor in disguise. Now, the person you wished to throw into the Black Lake.

You groaned and rocked back. Lockwood held on to your waist, closing the distance and allowing himself the reprieve of pressing his forehead against yours.

"We'll come back to this."

"Third time's the charm," you hoped.

His pulse raced as you snaked your hands up his torso, bracing your hands on his chest. If he didn't love you so much, he would have felt betrayed for the way you shoved him into the open.

"Anthony Lockwood," Godwin tutted. "I should have known..."

He glanced back at you, glimpsed your smile, and decided that he liked you too much to be mad.

He turned back to Godwin with a smirk. "I'm positive I saw a roach run through here." His lip twitched when her eyes darted down the hall.

Lockwood watched you book it for the opposite hall, ducking out of sight and escaping trouble. You blew a kiss before you turned the corner and he found that he didn't mind being your scapegoat.

—

Lockwood was aware that your beauty and brains could charm even the deadest of hearts. Some days, he wished you didn't have the magnetism you did. He dreaded every second watching that Gryffindor boy scamper up to you, a rose in hand.

Lockwood wasn't one to be mean up close, but he found glaring from a distance to be fair game.

You looked up from your book, innocent and unknowing, with a smile made for a princess. You turned the lion boy away, of course. You didn't even glance at the Gryffindor boy's love offering. The sad chap went off to wallow on his own.

Your head turned at the sound of Lockwood's footsteps. A smile coming to you before he even reached you.

"Hello, snake boy."

Lockwood didn't dawdle. "He was chatting you up."

"You were watching?"

"It's hard to miss trollop."

Amusement danced in your eyes. He forgot how gracious you were when he was caught up in his own mind-matter.

You shifted to the side and patted the spot next to you. Like a puppet on a string, he sat. Leaving no space between you, his arm flushed against yours.

"You're jealous," you said, with a lot more merriment than he expected from you.

His brows furrowed. "He's a twat. I'm just glad you had the sense to turn him away."

You crossed your legs and set your hands on your lap, exuding confidence that made him forget his own name. "So, you are jealous."

"Indefinitely," he said mindlessly.

"My poor serpent boy," you cooed sympathetically.

Your hands found his cheeks, and he had no reason to complain. He even nuzzled into your hold.

"You're never this touchy in public," he muttered, appreciating the closeness. He dipped his head to plant a gracious kiss on your palm.

You spoke like the action didn't rile you up. "I know someone adores me enough to be jealous of a boy I don't even know."

You felt his smile against your hand. Yours grew.

He planted one more kiss on your other palm before he drew himself away. He fought the urge to lean down and steal your first kiss right then and there because he had something much more fitting planned for you.

"I know you hate breaking rules but this is the last time I'm coaxing you to, I promise."

"I don't believe that for a second, but if you're so convinced, I don't see why I shouldn't be involved."

He turned your hand, placing a kiss on your knuckle. "The Astronomy Tower, after hours."

"Are you mad? The Astronomy Tower has special protection charms on it's doors."

Lockwood was mischief personified with a grin like that. "Have you no faith in me? I swear by Merlin's name, by the time you sneak out, I'll have the door open for you. I am a gentleman, after all."

It was glaringly obvious that you lost your ability to say 'no' to him.

—

You'd become acquainted with the darkest halls in your recent trysts with Lockwood. You would be lying if you said you weren't sceptical this time around.

The Astronomy Tower, a heavily guarded place following the murder of the previous Headmaster, was Lockwood's idea of a good time.

It was no easy feat to get in, especially when it was dark out and the charms were upped for maximum protection.

You let the glow from your wand guide you through the halls. Once you made it to the base of the stairs, you're greeted by the sight of Lockwood. Suave and plucked from your dreams, he kicked off the wall and pushed the door open with ease. All while wearing your favourite smile. You could have kissed him senseless.

He bowed at the waist, flourishing a hand at the open walkway. "Ladies first."

"You are... unbelievable. You actually did it."

He held his palm out towards you, like an invitation to dance. "Did you ever have a doubt?"

"For a moment," you admitted, placing your hand in his.

"Anything is possible, if you have enough nerve." He punctuated his statement by kissing your knuckle, his eyes never leaving yours. He was luring you in, and it was working. "Shall we?"

You nodded, allowing him to guide you up the stairs, passed the landing before you set foot on the observation deck. The gold accents of the room shone, even in moonlight. The books that filled the shelves vibrated, like they were dying to open themselves and unleash the knowledge they held, and the skyline ceiling was so brilliant, you could reach up and feel it against your skin.

If you spoke the want to touch a star, you had no doubt Lockwood would take a shot in the dark just to make it happen.

"Don't look at the books, sweetheart. Look at me."

"But the books are so pretty."

He grinned, holding back the urge to say something cliché. You could guess what it was.

Instead, he said, "Plenty of time for them later. I have to show you something."

He guided you to the balcony, the night's chill amplifying the feel of his warm hands on yours. It was getting hard to act like your heart wasn't jumping for joy.

The wind tousled your hair, the stars dotted the sky, and Anthony Lockwood made everything look so much brighter.

He rounded until your back was against his chest, pulling you in until you felt the thrum of his heart against your shoulder. Arms wound around you to shield you from the bite of frost than rolled in now that winter was one step through the door.

You found that his pulse was just as eratic as yours. Fervent in every sense of the word.

You'd never been in this position with anyone. The proximity was jarring, but it was welcomed nonetheless. You laxed into him, and he eased into you.

You weren't paying attention to the view as you hummed. "This is nice."

"I know... I was waiting until you didn't want to decapitate me to bring you here."

You turned your body to rest your cheek on his shoulder. "It's not my fault you're insufferable."

"Is that truly your favourite word to describe me? I hear it plenty."

"You tell me, serpent boy. I don't remember every little thing about myself."

"Remembering the little things about you is my job, thank you very much."

You felt the rumble of his laugh through his chest, reminiscent of a cat's purr of contentment. It took everything in you not to bring it up.

All whilst Lockwood was trying to keep himself together. Anything that involved you took a lot of restraint on his part.

Unexpectedly, you broke the silence. Your voice, the song of a lark in the night. "Have I ever told you how much I appreciate you?"

"No, I don't think you have." He hated to put a distance between you but he wanted to see your lips make the words as you said it. "Go on and tell me."

He memorised the way your smile reached your eyes and the softness of your brightened cheeks as the stars reflected in your eyes. You'd always been beautiful, but you were vibrant now. He liked to think he had something to do with it.

"I don't hate the way you know me better than I know myself."

He cracked a smile, cupping your cheek with the tenderness one reserves for their most precious thing. "Come on, you're more eloquent than that, sweetheart."

Your smile widened, and you melted into his palm. "If the world allowed it, I'd like to go back and return every stolen glance, every missed confession, and every chance we lost to be friends sooner."

His cheeks hurt from withholding a smile. "We can move past our regrets. Besides, aspirations have changed. I don't just want to be friends anymore, sweetheart." His thumb swiped against your cheek, printing the image of you into his memory. "I want to be your life's confidant, your harbinger of hope, your worst nightmare, and the object of your dreams. I want to be everything to you, because you are already everything to me."

Of course, he had to outdo you in words.

“Cheesy...” you teased.

His thumb travelled down the curve of your cheek, flitting over the plush of your lips. It took everything not to steal you away as you pressed your delicate lips against the pad of his thumb, like his confession didn't have to be returned in words.

And you didn't seem to be looking for words at all. Your hands found his lapels. With a sharp tug, you finally connect your lips to his. Years fell away as he grasped your neck, holding you to him as your fingers slid into his hair.

You exchanged breaths. A mess of clashing teeth and rushing emotions. Judging by the fervency in his grappling for skin, you got an idea of how long he'd been waiting for this, for you.

Yet, he wasn't savage about it. His movements were eager but equally as careful, savouring every stolen second he had you all to himself.

Even as the air ran short, he couldn't fathom the idea of being too far from you. You broke the kiss, chasing oxygen. He rested his forehead against yours, heaving with a smile that could brave you through your worst times.

His thumb swiped over your lips once more, already missing you. "Would you find it pathetic if I said I've dreamt of doing that?"

"I'd be more flattered, really. What girl wouldn't want to be wanted like this?"

You disarmed him as you cupped his chin.

"Can't imagine," he replied. He bumped his nose to yours, and you leaned into him even more.

Should have known that the world wasn't kind enough to give you much time to yourselves. Both of you jumped into action the second you heard the clicking of shoes coming up the stairs.

Anthony refused to release your hand, even as you rushed for cover. Your whispered urgencies fell on deaf ears. You didn't get far enough to hide fully.

Your back was against the wall, hidden from sight. Anthony was not. You were whispering for him to just duck beside you when he clamped a hand over your mouth and posed for whoever appeared inside the Tower.

"Lockwood?" Lucy Carlyle.

You sighed in relief. You weren't in inescapable trouble after all.

"Hey, Luce! Fancy seeing you here."

"What are you doing?" A few more steps.

Anthony panicked. "No! Sorry–" He cleared his throat. "I... made a mess of a hex. It's a disaster."

You bit his palm, offended. The way he sputtered was victory enough.

"Really?" Lucy questioned, deep in disbelief. "You look completely fine... Except your hair."

"Terrible winds, really. The mess is off to the side." His smile was so unconvincing you could laugh.

Instead, you started a trail of pecks across his palm, travelling down to his wrist until he choked on air. Your heart swelled and mischief bubbled to the surface. You grew audacious enough to nip at his skin.

Lucy's voice rang out. "I can help—"

"Absolutely not!" Anthony winced at the crack in his voice. "I mean, I have it handled."

You heard a few more steps. Anthony laxed. You assumed Lucy was walking away. "If you say so..."

"Haha. I appreciate the concern, Luce. Let's keep this between us, hm?"

"Sure..." Her steps echoed as she toed down the steps. Before she shut the door, she added, "Say 'hi' to the Ravenclaw for me."

Anthony slumped himself against you, sulking as you laughed. "Not as sly as we thought, hm?"

"I've had better days..."

You ran your hands through his hair, attempting to right the mess you made of it earlier. "Then you're blaming the night?"

He raised his head from your shoulder. "Don't tell me you're about to side with the moon again. I'll start to think I'm competing with it."

"Well, the moon is beautiful."

"Oh, come off it. I'm so much better."

He took it upon himself to prove it, pressing your hips into the wall as he stole another ground-shattering kiss from. You surrendered, musing his hair to your heart's content.

—

Anthony thought that the perfect way to start off a relationship was to demonstrate how you two truly clicked in terms of cruelty. Not that you'd call it that outright. You'd crossed out Lockwood's 'revenge' and wrote 'comeuppance' in its place.

He eyed the plans from over your shoulder. "Does it make a difference?"

"Comeuppance is just karmic debt being repaid. Revenge sounds like it could be a crime."

"It's only a crime if we get caught."

That could very well be Anthony's life motto.

You rolled the scroll up and casted a hasty concealment charm on it, packing it away in the bag of supplies before you looked down the hallway.

"You go cause a distraction."

He guffawed, clutching his cloak like he'd been stabbed. "I came up with the plan. Why do I get distraction duty?"

"Because," you drawled, fixing his tie. "You're a sweet boyfriend who does anything to pacify his vengeful girlfriend."

"Defence is a pivotal subject in the field I'm aiming for. I could lose my career if this goes wrong."

"I can cover all our future living expenses, and we won't get caught. Swish away the pessimism, captain."

"I'm not being pessimistic. I just want to be the one flinging oobleck balloons."

You smiled faultlessly. "We'll miss our chance if we don't time this correctly."

His shoulders sunk, a grumble shaking his chest before he righted himself. "Do what you please. Just... don't turn me into a ferret. I heard a terrible rumour about some other Slytherin being turned into one."

"You have my word."

An enchantment here and a flick of a wand there, and a baby eagle stood in the place of your lover. You cupped him in your hands, cooing cordially as he nipped at your fingers.

If a bird could blush, you assumed he would have. You set him on the window sill.

A ways down, Professor Loathes-Your-Guts strolled by. Unassuming and grumpy as ever.

"As good as I am, it won't last forever. Off you go, Cinderbird."

Anthony squawked indignantly before you shoved him off the sill. He stretched his wings, working out the complexities of flight right before he hit the pavement.

His odd way of flying seized the Professor's attention right away. She caught him in her hands, stopping right where you wanted her.

Anthony freed himself as the first balloon careened down and splat against her head, drenching her in watered starch. You muffled a laugh as she screamed bloody murder. She had yet to get the sludge out of her hair before you dropped three more.

Blood pumping, Anthony flew right up, turning human right as he shot through the window.

"Save some for me!"

You kicked the box of balloons toward him, absolutely riveted by the scene you'd caused below. You looked far too good doing evil, and he was the Slytherin.

He dropped five balloons before Peeves uncovered the plot and took matters into his hands.

The poltergeist bombarded the Professor with the remaining ammunition and left the basket over her head as a consolation prize. While she shrieked at him, you and Anthony booked it—hands connected, boasting matching smiles.

Operation: DADA Comeuppance — Success!

And thanks to the spirit of mischief, you were never caught.

—

Anthony found it ironic that your favourite views were of crepuscular rays; those beams of light that slice through dense foliage or part the clouds to shine on dreary ground, because it's how he often described you—rarely letting the light in but always magnificent when you do.

You were standing under one of those rays as you bowed to a Hippogriff, once again setting an example for the class. It's to nobody's surprise, he's the first to burst into applause.

You glared at him. He mimicked your deep bow in response. The twitch of your lip was reward enough for him.

It wasn't long until the party was assigned to pairs. It was an easy guess as to who leeched to your side the second people broke off into their groups.

You waved your finger at him, as if that would keep him from you. "If you keep tailing me, we'll end up on the Bulletin'."

"I love a good word in. About us, specifically," he replied.

You shook your head, more endeared than disappointed. "Of course, you would."

"If I were you, I'd be showing off my new boyfriend."

"You say 'boyfriend' with so much conviction, you would think we've been going out for years."

"My apologies, m'lady. Would 'husband' suit your tastes more?"

"Lockwood!"

He withheld a smile. "You can call me Anthony, sweetheart. In fact, you can keep my last name for yourself."

Your mouth dropped into an 'o'. "I cannot believe what I'm hearing."

He took a more tentative step towards you, closing distance. "What are you hearing?"

"Nonsense. I hear nonsense," you replied. You were doomed the second your back hit a tree. Anthony wasted no time to trap you against it. "You are..."

He leaned down, bumping your nose with his. It was inertia that drew him close enough to touch lips. "I'm what– Oof!"

He clutched his chest after you pushed him away, smiling like you were faultless. "I'd like a ring if you are seriously talking about stealing surnames. A nice, awe-inspiring ring. Not a common one. Something privy to us."

He rubbed his shirt as he spoke, a smile teasing his lips. "How's about a house to start?"

Your visage changed. Genuine surprise marred your features. "You're serious?"

"It's a big house, and it could use a magical touch."

The way your lips quirked into a smile made him forget himself. A mistake he'll try not to make in the future.

Under the spell of your gaze, he hadn't seen your Hippogriff friend rush for him. He received a headbutt to the side and crashed into a tree. If that weren't bad enough, a fat fruit thumped him right on the head.

For a fleeting moment, everything went blurry. He saw you as a smudge in his vision. When he tried to talk, all that came out was gibberish.

"He's a friend," you explained to the Hippogriff. It gave a ninny and nudged its snout against Lockwood's side as a form of apology.

When he came to, he got a faceful of Hippogriff cheek. You waved the gentle beast out of the way before cradling Anthony's head.

His foul sentiments dissipated. Perhaps he should get bodied by a Hippogriff more often if that meant he got to see you this doting again.

"Merlin, Lockwood... I forgot she was protective."

"That's 'Anthony' to you, sweetheart, and 's alright," he slurred, blinking his vision back to clarity. He smacked his lips, luckily not tasting blood. "I get protective of you, too."

"Not the time to flirt, serpent boy."

"You're holding me. There is no better time to flirt."

"Alright, Casanova."

Your hands travelled to his wrist, assessing his pulse, then pressing into his side to check the extent of the damage. If this was a glimpse of how you'd be as a healer, he was already jealous of the patients you'd be caring for.

The second his brain fog cleared, he patted his pockets in search of his gifts.

You sat back on your calves, staring him down like the wind could blow him over. "Looks like minor damage."

"Excellent news," he rasped. He took your hand and placed a solid metal something in your palm. "This is for, if you choose to accept my invitation." He fished in his pocket for a second object. He placed that into your closed palm as well. "And this is for you in general."

The first object was a heavy silver key. The ornamental kind of key you loved to hold as a child. You stared at it with so much intensity, he was convinced you were trying to set it on fire with your eyes.

"You're just... giving this to me?"

Worry crossed his face. "Yes. If you'd like it, of course."

"I like it," you said urgently. "How could I not? I just... Don't I have to do something to earn this? Like, giving up a handful of galleons or marrying–"

He let go of the breath he was holding.

"Hold it there, sweetheart," he grasped your hands the second he saw your mind going in all different directions. "I want us to live together, no conditions. I want to be close to you." Of course, he had to add, “I know, I couldn't believe it myself.”

Your hands tightened around his. He'd let you squeeze his fingers bloodless if it quelled your worries.

He cracked a smile, relieved to see you giving the effort to return it. He carefully unravelled your hands to show you the second object.

You gasped. As would any girl when they're presented with a ring. It was the metal that complimented your skin best. A solid band detailed in engravings and decadent carvings. Your worry morphed into panic. With tense shoulders, your eyes flit to Anthony's.

"Relax," he mused, turning the ring in his hands and sliding it on your third finger. "It's not an engagement ring. It's a passion project of mine..."

Your shoulders laxed. "Thank Merlin... Hogwarts is not a place to propose."

"Agreed, and I'd never disrespect you by proposing so drably." He chuckled, examining the ring on your finger before brandishing his matching one. "They're a pair, loaded with protective charms and a trace. It functions as a handy portkey, too."

You raised your hand to the light, examining the engravings in full. "Why turn it into a portkey?"

"The trace tells me if you're in trouble. The portkey will take me to you the second you are."

Only a witch like you would fall in love with intricate spell work. It made you susceptible to melting for gestures as thoughtful as Anthony's.

He admired you as you admired the ring. His heart jumped as you quickly turned your head to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you," you whispered. The raw, unfiltered gratitude in your voice made him fall for you all over again.

His smile reached his eyes. "Anytime, sweetheart."

—

Waiting on the last train out of Hogwarts felt like some kind of catharsis. A journey that spanned seven years felt like a short car ride home. There was happiness doled by sadness, and sadness doled by happiness.

It was in Anthony's nature to look on the bright side, but it was difficult when he hadn't seen you since the awarding ceremony. You outdid him, of course. Bringing home one medal more than him.

His initial plan was to sulk, maybe play kicked puppy and finesse himself a kiss, but his anticipation blurred into worry as the train entered view, but you didn't.

He broke from the crowd, leaving his things with Lucy and George before going off to find you.

He didn't peg you as the type to take a last walk to your favourite spots, but he found you in the dingy Defence classroom. As much as you loathed the lingering stench, you exalted the memories in that very room. The only subject of concern was a boy toying with an empty cage on the far side of the room. Anthony turned a blind eye to the stranger, for how could he look away from you?

Your eyes, that were peering ruefully out the window, snapped to Anthony's. He felt the beginnings of a smile creep up.

Without warning, a wardrobe wove open, the hinges holding it together rasped as a black form ballooned out of it. Your gaze fell on it, and horror replaced the nostalgia instantaneously.

He'd never heard you scream so loud.

Blood rushed to his head. He found his wand.

You fell to the floor, clamping your hands over your ears with your eyes shut tight.

Vision in red, he turned his attention to the boggart that crushed the air in the room. It took the form of four figures; A horrific scene sampled from the many tormented stories plucked from the war...

He paused, finding his own tortured face staring back at him and your anguished one shackled, unable to help. The two remaining figures must have been members of your family, looming over you and watching you without compassion. They were your boggart.

He didn't hesitate to mutter the counter-charm.

The illusion burst. The boggart whirled back into the closet with the wardrobe doors crashing shut.

The boy Anthony hadn't paid attention to stood to reopen it but Anthony threw a stupefy right at him. The boy nearly dented the wall with how hard he rammed into it.

Anthony advanced, fury heavy in his steps. It only heightened as he realised who the boy was. It was the Gryffindor boy you'd rejected all those weeks ago.

"You have got to be kidding me." Anthony scoffed.

The lion boy's nose flared, turning him twice as ugly. Anthony might have felt bad if he wasn't furious.

He didn't give the Gryffindor time to recuperate before he drew him up by the collar and cracked his back against the wall. "You bastard. You couldn't take the 'L', could you?"

The boy's head lulled. Anthony had to give it to him, he thought he'd be out cold with how solid the spell hit him, but the tosser had the resolve to spit at him.

There was no guilt in the way Anthony threw him to the floor. He could have done worse if you hadn't called for him.

"Anthony."

He turned his head, relieved to find that you'd returned to normal. Save the red that rimmed your eyes, you were fine. You were the one thing that kept him from bludgeoning the roach on the floor.

No words were needed.

The Gryffindor laughed, repulsed. "So, you were with him this whole time? Godric... you're a bitch—"

"Quite the mouth for someone who'd stoop low enough to unleash a boggart on a lady," Lockwood said dismally. "I suggest you scat. Before I show you what each of my accolades mean."

Courageous as the Gryffindor was, he was brainless. "Did you hand a few to her for 'favours'? Hm?"

Oh, the number of jinxes the human body could handle before breaking. The boy was lucky you were there. Anthony was gentleman enough not to hex in front of a lady.

He sufficed with carving crescents into his own palms to restrain himself. "Serpents don't concern themselves with the opinions of sheep. I suggest you stitch your mouth. There is a lady present, if you aren't too blind to see her."

"Kiss up," the Gryffindor simpered.

Patient as Anthony was, you weren't. You hurled a spell at the Gryffindor. After a twitch, his head hit the ground.

You showed Anthony your palms when you were met with inquisition.

"What? Was I supposed to let him speak to you like that?"

Holding back a smile was futile. He was proud. "You're cute."

You stepped over the Gryffindor and returned his smile. "I know." You brushed the imaginary dust off Anthony's shoulders and righted the orientation of his medals before you took his hand. "As I remember, we have a train to catch."

He twined your fingers, bringing your hand to his lips to worship your knuckles. "Shall we, m'lady?"

"We shall."

You exited the classroom, hands intertwined, leaving behind an incapacitated moron. If the rest of your lives were going to be spent like that, you had no qualms with it.

"Have I told you how gorgeous you look today?"

"No." You looked at him expectantly. "Tell me."

He pressed a kiss to your temple and gave your hand a squeeze as he said, "My dearest vexation, you are a vision. Aphrodite herself would be green with envy."

Definitely no qualms there.

—

"Why is it that you travel by this rather than apparating?"

You were always a sponge for knowledge, but your eyes were particularly bright once the train had delivered you to Platform 9¾. It spat you right out into the muggle world.

Anthony realised that he had never seen you in all-muggle clothes, and he wasn't shy of staring. He was rightfully in a daze until you'd asked the question.

"Cabs take us directly to where we want without raising suspicion from muggles."

"So, they willingly spend their sickles on simply getting home? How impractical, and expensive."

He hid a laugh. "It is the way it is, sweetheart. Nothing we can do to change that. It's best you avoid saying 'sickles' though. It'll confuse them."

"Noted."

Anthony loathed the silence, but he made due with it. He had you for a view, after all. He recounted all of your details, down to the flutter of your lashes as the breeze caressed your face.

Weirdly enough, the ride to Portland Row was much shorter than he remembered.

He slipped out first, flattening a hand at the top of the cab's door and taking the brunt of the impact when you expectedly bumped your head on the way out.

"Sorry."

"Don't mention it. I did the same as a kid."

You kissed his cheek anyway, and he turned his head to the side to make the warmth of his cheeks discreet.

As he unloaded the trunks, you absorbed the Lockwood family estate as it stood: A tall, classical home with wrought-iron fencing leading to the bricked door arch and its charming knocker... the picture of a fine London home.

The only thing out of place was the irritating, freckled face of a neighbour Anthony hoped disappeared.

"Tony! Done with community service?"

You turned to Quill Kipps with a frown. Anthony withheld a laugh. You had never met the man but you obviously disliked him already.

Kipps straightened, realising that you were present. "You have a dame with you... Quite the looker, too."

"I have a name, if you had the mind to ask." You crossed your arms. Anthony found that to be a sign to look away. You had yourself handled. "I suppose the oaf with room temperature IQ has a name, too?"

Quill Kipps's smirk faltered. "He does." His eyes shifted to Anthony before he clicked his tongue. "Just trying to rile up Tony. Hope you stick around though, sweetheart. He could use a backbone."

Anthony soured at the nickname.

You didn't let up your glare until Kipps vanished from sight.

You shifted your heated gaze to Anthony. "Did you hear what he called me? How have you not jinxed him?"

"Trust me, I'm not a fan of him either, but he's a muggle. Trying to fight him would be bullying."

"The lack of justice!"

He snorted. "It's bearable. Now, come on. There's someone who's been dying to meet you."

"I can stupefy the freckled redhead double quick."

"Sweetheart, no."

He seized your hand to make sure you didn't run off and break a law, no matter how entertaining that would be for the both of you.

—

"I'm Jessica Lockwood! Jess is preferable. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Your arm almost fell off from the intensity of her handshake. The older girl was twice as energetic as Anthony and triple times as smiley.

Your boyfriend was the one who saved your hand by taking it into his. "Jess, I like my girl with both her hands intact, please."

"Don't kid. You'd still be smitten if she was cursed into a worm." She slapped her brother's shoulder. You kept in a laugh as he struggled to remain upright. She didn't forget you for a second. "Once Anthony starts talking about you, it never truly ends. I didn't believe he hated you for a second. When he 'complained' about you, he'd use phrases like *'annoyingly distracting'* and *'unfairly attractive'*."

"Jess..."

"The truth was bound to come out." She shot you a knowing look. "You can tell in the smile. He does it without knowing"

"He is terribly obvious," you doubled, holding his hand in both of yours in a pacifying manner.

His mouth fell open. "My word . . . It's been five minutes and the pair of you are already cornering me."

"This is the beginning of something beautiful," Jessica sang. She winked at you before meandering to the door next to the steps. "Now show her your room and unpack before dinner. We're having potato soup. Are you allergic, sweets?"

You smiled until both of your cheeks hurt. "Not at all. I like the sound of potato soup. Before that, I'd like to formally introduce myself–"

"There's no need for it, really. Anthony blabbed about you enough. I'll call you two down when it's ready."

Anthony lead you to the stairs by the shoulders. "Up we go, sweetheart. Before Jess says more than she should."

"I think she's a treat, Anthony. I wish I had a sister like her."

"She kicked me into a lake once. You wouldn't find her very nice if she did that to you, would you?"

"I would kick you into a lake, too, if you were my brother."

"Let's not open that can of worms, sweetheart. I want to be your husband. Obliviate this conversation from my memory."

You laughed, patting his knuckles sympathetically. "Torturing you is just as fun as laughing about it."

"You and Jess get along like a house on fire. That said, I'm not sure how long I'll stay sane."

"I'll save you a room at St. Mungo's." He fought a smile as you stalled on the taller steps. He was a goner the second you turned to wrap your arms around him. "You love it though. And you love me."

He sighed into your hair. "Unfortunately."

His arms wound around you, pulling you close enough for your heartbeats to sync. He nuzzled into your shoulder, and you did the worst thing you could possibly do: you played with his hair. He melted.

The prospect of you being in his forever home made a strange feeling bubble in his stomach. He figured it was what he had been looking for—a sense of fulfilment, or maybe he just needed someone to play with his hair the way you did.

Jessica's voice speared through the tranquillity. "No funny business, both of you!"

"Yes, ma'am," Anthony responded. He stole a chaste kiss from you before leading you to the first door on the second floor.

—

He should have known you'd go straight for the bed. You were always lounging or reclining if you weren't working. Anthony developed a disease that entailed observing you every time you did. He could probably paint a portrait of you, if he only had the artistic talent.

You stretched like a starfish, relishing the softness of the sheets that still smelt of him.

"I could die here, happily."

Anthony kneeled in the space next you to fix the blanket over you. "Sweet as that is, I like you better alive."

"I'll live and die here," you cooed, pulling him down beside you. "So much better than my room... well, my old room. My parents decorated the house like it was a prison. Seeing your mess can make any place feel like home."

"Should I be offended? You just called my interior decorating skills a mess."

"You're ugly enough to distract them from the mess."

"Thank you, sweetheart. Much appreciated."

"You're welcome."

He lowered his body next to yours, throwing an arm over your waist. The brush of his fingers on your stomach did not go unnoticed.

You took the liberty to rest your head on his shoulder, snuggling deeper into the blanket as you did. The perfect plot to hide your warming cheeks.

"Getting cosy, already? In my room?"

"We can share, can't we?" The way you looked at him made the temptation of a cosy cuddle difficult to resist.

"Jess would behead me, and I don't mean metaphorically. We have a collection of axes from pivotal historic events downstairs."

"Just a nap then. We have some time before dinner."

You made a good bargain. There was only so much saying 'no' Anthony could do to you before he bent.

"Just this once."

"Just this once," you confirm with an unconvincing smile.

"I am a gentleman, you understand that? We can't stay here for too long."

"I know."

"Then why are you smiling like that?"

Your smile only grew. "Cause I'll be the barbarian this time. I demand to stay here."

"Sweetheart—"

"My mind's already made up. Sleep, Anthony."

“My sister—"

"Sleep."

He tapped your side in surrender. He dragged the blanket higher to cover your shoulders. "If I am putting my neck out for a cuddle, might as well ask for your input. Though, the idea itself might be absurd."

"Anthony, 'absurd' means 'innovative' in your language. Spill."

"Is it possible to shrink a patronus? I was thinking about the practicality of a smaller patronus after I signed up for the auror training programme."

"It'd be more covert."

"My thought exactly." His expression turned pensive. "I might use it to get into the specialised auror squadron."

"Well," You sat up and wiggled your wand out of your pocket. "Only one way to find out."

He couldn't leave it alone. "First person to do it gets a tick on the Tally."

"You're just bitter I got one more medallion than you."

"What can I say?" He tapped your nose, bringing the smile back to your face. "I love the competition."

—

The spellcasting didn't cease, even after dinner had passed.

You found yourselves under the covers, using the space between you as an arena for your patronuses. So far, every cast came out a regular-sized patronus.

Anthony's eyes drifted to the glint of your ring every time it was your turn. The engravings came to life every time it came into contact with magic. He felt the pulse of it through his own ring. He shouldn't have felt as thrilled as he did, but he couldn't help it.

"Anthony. Are you sleeping with your eyes open?"

"No. Just looking at you."

Your lip curled. "Cheesy."

"You love it."

"No comment."

He laughed before picking up his wand. He concentrated as best as he could, but one glimpse at your face, and it slipped. His patronus emerged as it usually did.

Magnificent, iridescent, and face-slapping. Its silvery sands dissipated as Anthony received a well-placed smack to the cheek.

"That was worse than the last one," you snorted.

Anthony nudged your knee. "I'd like to see you do better."

Even if a million failed attempts already plagued you, you went through the motions. This time, the swishes of your wand were smaller and more slurred—like your wrist was limp as you cast.

Your patronus burst forth. Beautiful and respectable, and the size of a mouse.

"Aha!" You threw your hands up, sending the blanket flying and letting the cold air rush in. "I win! Get the Tally, give me my point."

"Merlin, sweetheart. Careful." Anthony chuckled, gathering the blanket and quickly chucking it over your head before getting up from the bed to fetch the notebook.

Your head poked out of the swaths of fabric, just to prop your chin on his shoulder and watch as he drew another line under your column. Two points more than his.

He leaned his head on yours. "Happy?"

"Very," you quipped.

The patronus trounced over his hand, soaring over your head like a halo before perching on his nose.

"Try it." You coaxed. "Smaller shapes, dramatic flicks."

"You're going to laugh if it fails, aren't you?"

"When do I not?"

The crane flew over to the nightstand, preening it's feathers before cocking its head at Anthony. Urging him to go on.

With a sigh, he gave in and gave it another go. The first attempt was as bad as the last. The second one worked like a charm.

His patronus skipped the usual fly around the room, preferring to head straight for yours, landing next to it and dancing around it before they took off like butterflies in the wind.

Your lips parted for a yawn. Anthony felt your weight press against his side, his arm instinctively finding home around your waist.

"How late is it?" Your eyes were too bleary to read the time.

Anthony found the clock. "A quarter to midnight." He hauled you closer, settling you against the pillows before dimming the lights. "I think we're due for some shut-eye."

"A Slytherin who values a proper sleep schedule . . . Boo!"

He didn't even try to fight you. You were already swaying.

You felt his chest rumble as he spoke. "We can stay up then."

"Your idea, not mine."

Your head rested against him, the steady lub-dub of his heart pounding against your cheek. He felt yours against your ribs as he rubbed circles under your shirt. Even then, he couldn't tear his eyes away from your miniature patronuses.

They lit up the room like restless twin flames. Your eyes followed them, too, but not for long.

The combination of the patronuses' light and Lockwood's gentle massaging proved to be an effective sleeping pill. It wasn't long 'till your earlier words were void and your breath evened out.

"Thought we were staying up," Anthony whispered, more endeared than anything. He couldn't help but place a kiss on your forehead.

The curious thing was... your patronus hadn't disappeared, even as you slept.

The pair of tiny cranes danced in flight. Nipping playfully before beautifully looping around one another.

He observed them for a while more before the drowse began to creep in. He dispelled his patronus, and only then did both of them disappear. Never leaving one without the other.

He cracked a smile as he slipped the blanket tighter around you, blessing your head with another kiss before he, himself, succumbed to the symphonies of sleep.

—

When life spun from essays and practicals to work and elbow grease, Anthony often found himself thinking of the future, of the past and where the two met in the middle.

He wondered if you ever missed the opulence of living in a pureblood home: The fluted columns, the glistening chandeliers, and the sunlight that streamed through ceiling-length windows.

He'd stare at the back of your head, feeling the doubt creep in. Then, you'd turn and chide him about some miscellaneous argument you refused to let rest, then all would be right in the world.

On a particularly gruelling day, he traipsed straight to bed without breakfast, too tuckered out to even lift a finger.

He heard you and Jessica chattering while you cleaned downstairs—moving furniture and kicking the ol' vacuum back to life. Sometime after dusting the bookshelves, you carefully opened the door to your (Lockwood's) room—mindful not to wake him with its creaking. He watched you through lidded eyes. You didn't notice his blinking.

Your hands glided a cloth over the nightstand pictures. When you'd reached the family portrait, you smiled. He found himself holding his breath.

"Your son is a dolt, you know," you snitched as if they'd be ready to gossip with you. You brought the picture to the light and rubbed away a stain on the glass. "Can't even take care of himself these days. He's lucky Jess and I are here to scold him . . . But he is a good man. A polite, romantic, and utterly chaotic one," You took a breath to calm yourself. "but I can't bring myself to hate him more than I... Well, I can't get the word out, but I will eventually. I've only been here for a while but living seems so much easier now. Not to alarm you, but it may have something to do with your son."

It was complete agony to continue feigning sleep after that. You cleaned the other night table, then adjusted the blanket so he was fully covered.

You left the room like you hadn't taken his heart with you.

—

On the dreaded eve of his parents' death, you approached him as he scrutinised the chipping paint and the stick-on stars on the ceiling.

Detached wasn't an apt word to describe how he had been acting all day. He was somewhere else mentally. Not even Jessica could break through to him.

"Jess told me to check on you," you said quietly, trying not to startle him.

All he did was hum in return.

You filled the empty space on the bed. "Anthony . . . Grief is just love with nowhere to go." You set your hand on his cheek, carefully swiping over his cheek, catching tears that have yet to fall. "No need to repress anything in front of me, serpent boy."

He took a shuddering breath. The first time he truly took a breath all day. It shattered you as his eyes glazed over. Even then, he refused to look at you. Refused to show you how torn up he was.

"I just... I miss them, but it's been so many years since they left. I thought–" He sucked in a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose just to cover his eyes. "I thought it would be easier. It's supposed to be easier."

You shifted closer, the bed dipping at your weight and bringing him closer to you. He thought he'd seen it all, but he'd never seen that kind of softness on your face. You pried his fingers away and wiped his tears yourself.

He was reduced to a little boy, and you were still sticking around. No barbs, no sharp sarcasm. Just your caring eyes and even more careful hands grasping his cheeks.

"Grief never really leaves, Anthony. They're your parents, of course you'd miss them." You mustered a smile, but it only revealed the tears gathering at your eyeline. "But you don't have to feel it alone. Jessica is here, and she loves you more than anything. It hurts her to see you so distant." He reached up to hold your hand in his. Your melancholic smile stretched. "And I'm here, too. You'd have to be pretty daft to forget your roommate."

He managed a smile, squeezing your hand in silent thanks — just before he had felt his façade fracture.

Anthony sat up, pulling you onto his thighs and wrapping you in a hug that was all-encompassing. He hid his face in your shoulder, and you rubbed his back as he finally let the tears free.

Sobs racked his body, his heart picked itself apart once more, but at least he could breath. Keeping all of the heartache to himself was like holding his breath. There was only so much he could hold before he needed air.

He didn't know how long Jessica had stood at the door before you beckoned her closer. Another pair of arms came around you two, washing away all the misplaced guilt he'd been stewing in since morning.

It didn't make him miss his parents less, but it reminded him that there were still people he got to hold hands with. And you were right, it was easier than doing it alone.

—

The conversation at dinner was a calm one. Less on banter and more on planning what to do in the morning.

The general consensus was to pick up flowers and bring some things to picnic with before visiting the Lockwoods' graves.

Jessica hugged Lockwood extra tight before letting him turn in for the night.

You glued yourself to his side the second he slid into bed. The responsibility of initiating skinship usually was on him, so, the change of pace was heavily appreciated.

He wrapped an arm around you and pressed a kiss to your head in unspoken gratitude.

You fought your nature to fall asleep first, just to stay up with him, but your resolve crumbled after your third yawn. You drifted off. Your arms didn't budge, and he was relishing the closeness for what it was.

Though, his mind wouldn't stop turning.

He never heard his parents' story, but he knew his mother had been a half-blood. He wanted to know how they met, if his mother's patronus ever changed, if his father had fashioned something from muggle magic to impress her.

So many questions that would remain unanswered forever.

He reached for his wand when insomnia had stolen enough hours of sleep from him. In the darkness, he whispered the enchantment.

His patronus burst forth, silvery and glorious... and not alone. Contrary to his previous casts, he summoned not just one crane, but two.

The pair of them remained quiet, for your sake. They perched on the armoire opposite of the bed and preened one another. He was entranced by their obvious affections, only breaking from focus when you shuffled in his arms.

The patronuses faded away, and you blinked into the darkness.

"What are you up to?" Your voice was heavy with drowse. Anthony fought the urge to pinch your cheek.

"Nothing, sweetheart." He glided a hand over your eyes, coaxing, "Go back to sleep."

You grumbled. "I saw something, you liar."

"Just a trick of the light."

You eyed him with sleepy uncertainty before your head went limp against his shoulder once more. "We'll come back to this," you swore.

Anthony pacified you by rubbing your back. "You bet, sweetheart. Now get your beauty sleep. I can't always be the prettier one."

He didn't have to tell you twice.

Not long after, his own eyes began to droop with the twin cranes still swimming in his mind.

—

The last time the sky had been this alive was the night Anthony had stolen you away to the Astronomy Tower. It felt like a lifetime ago.

You barely even noticed the extra luminescence of the moon or Anthony, who had been waiting for some form of acknowledgement all day.

Grunts were your definition of olive branches, and he wasn't having it. He stole the page from your hands and raised it above his head.

Your response was snap. "Anthony... I don't have time to dawdle."

"Why are you so worked up?"

You flailed your arms, gesturing wildly to the hulking stack of papers on your desk. "The warden at St. Mungo's wants to speak to me, personally. I need to be ready."

He read your scrawl on the paper, quickly giving up on trying to understand what it all meant.

What you dove into was far beyond the field of study in Hogwarts. Madame Pomfrey clearly took her role as your mentor seriously. You were advancing quickly.

"My girl," he said with a laugh. "You're the only witch who can commit a twelve-foot scroll to heart in the span of two hours. You'll be fine."

He loosened his grip on the paper as you leapt up to snatch it back from him, sitting back down on your chair with your lips pursed. Stress lines forming where your smile lines were supposed to. He hated seeing you so... consumed.

He wondered if you'd been hiding that face behind the four walls of your bedroom before things had changed between you, back when medals were currency in your home rather than achievements.

"This is a once in a lifetime opportunity... and it's being handed to me. I have to put my best foot forward." Your hold on the page turned sentimental. "I can't mess it up, Anthony."

He set his hands on your shoulders, and you surrendered to his touch. He took it as a good sign and cleared himself to kiss the top of your head.

"You are the best at what you do," he assured. "No one can compare. I'm not just saying that. You genuinely scare people with how much you know." He spun your chair to face him, tilting your chin to see you. "My dearest vexation... You've got this, and I've got you."

Your shoulders dropped with the intensity of your sigh. "I don't know what to do... I might forget something I'm supposed to know."

"You could never." He scrutinised your work desk before he made the decision. "What you need is a break. Dance with me?"

He drew you up by both hands, guiding one of your hands to rest on his shoulder. When your eyes drifted back to your stack of papers, he killed the lights so you wouldn't be able to see them.

You laxed as soon as the room plunged into the dark. That left you, Anthony, and the glow of the moon and streetlights.

Anthony returned his hand to yours and hummed a sentimental tune to lead the dance.

You leaned into the music, resting your head against his shoulder. He, in turn, rested his cheek against your head.

"This reminds me of our first dance," you mumbled.

"How could I forget?"

You concealed a smile in his shirt. "A lovely dance on the balcony after you kissed me senseless."

"It takes two to tango, sweetheart." He pulled closer, basking in the yelp you let out. "And my hair didn't stand a chance in your hands."

"In my defence, the tousled look suits you." You had the cheek to peck the juncture between his shoulder and neck. "Like the princes I used to read about."

"Charming."

"Don't be salty, captain. You'll always be my favourite." You rubbed his shoulder as a gesture of peace.

"As I should be."

You chuckled. "You're smirking. I feel it."

"You can't even see me."

"Don't have to," you chirped. "I know you."

"I've never met a woman so cumbersome."

Your head jerked back. Even in the limited lighting, he could see the scowl on your face. "You know other women?"

He couldn't hold back a grin. "Merlin, you are so jealous." He pressed a kiss to your temple, a gesture of truce. "You're my only and only vexation, spitfire. Everyone and everything pales in comparison."

You opened your mouth with the intent of giving a smart answer, but he shot you down before you even said it.

"Don't bring the moon into this."

You sealed your lips into a smile. Your worries slipped away, and you relished the few minutes you stole for a moonlight waltz with your lover.

—

In the two years you'd lived together, he'd picked up on your ticks. And you, his.

When you lightly bump your forehead against his cheek, Anthony knew it was your way of demanding a kiss. He never denied you one.

You learned to wear loose shirts to sleep because Anthony liked to slip his hand up your bare back and feel the up-and-down motions of your breathing as you slept.

He never forgot to bring home a little keepsake from work for you, accompanied by a single flower you got to add to a growing bouquet in the living room.

Anthony often got colds in the winter seasons, but he retains his reverent hate for the smell of Vix. So, you made your own impromptu mint remedy with lemongrass and ginger. To him, it was so much better.

Last but not least, a new chess board found home in the receiving room. The pieces only move when you and Anthony arrive home from your respective statutes of work.

Gist is, you had a routine, and you knew what to do for every boyfriend-shaped hurdle life had in store for you.

Imagine the panic that hit you the second your enchanted ring started to warm and shake.

The day was dark and ruthless. Rain pelting down like cats and dogs. Electricity had gone out as well.

You were wary to answer the door, since you were home alone, but you did so anyway because your ring had only grown more restless.

Your heart ceased in your chest as you took in the sight of Anthony. He couldn't even hold himself up. Lucy and James were doing that for him.

You choked on nothing. "Merlin..."

You reached out. Like a moth to a flame, Anthony gravitated to you. Falling into your arms and sighing into your shoulder like your presence alone could suture the injuries that marred his figure from head to toe.

"We took him to St. Mungo's," Lucy elaborated, clutching her own side. She was less beat, but she was still slouched in pain.

James had taken over when she wheezed for breath. "He fought every medi-witch that approached. Said he just wanted to come home and see you."

"You twat," you scolded in a whisper. It took most of your energy to keep Anthony upright. You schooled your expression, offering a mustered smile to his companions. "Thank you for bringing him home. See yourselves to St. Mungo's. I'll cover your tab when my shift rolls by."

James hooked his arm around a limping Lucy, offering you a grateful smile before producing his wand and apparating in the guise of the rain.

Anthony was tracking blood and mud wherever he walked. It was useless trying to get farther than the living room. You'd rather have a tarnished sofa than a bloodless boyfriend.

"What happened, Anthony?" Your tone was firm, but quiet—careful of a headache that could be blooming behind his ears.

You tore off his coat to get to the scratches on his arms. Repairing him one injury at a time. Even if the injuries were gone, his skin was still drenched in his own sweat and blood. It was a mess, and you'd be damned than leave him looking so trodden.

You accioed a basin of water and a handful of washcloths to your side. Swiping away grime as you healed him.

Only when you began to unbutton his shirt did he find his voice.

"We're moving a bit too fast, sweetheart. Where's your decorum?"

Your gaze held bite. He chuckled like his smile would save him.

"Where's your mind? You've been unresponsive for five minutes! I thought you were stewing in the after-effects of a psychological curse—" You drowned a blood-stained cloth in the basin of water, watching scarlet swirl into the clear water before moving back to his shirt. "—and I'd have to give you a permanent room at the ward, and then break the news to Jess—"

"I'm fine—"

"But I'm not!"

You sat back on your calves, taken aback by your own tone. The backs of your fists pressed into your eyes, forcing your tears back in before returning to assessing his wounds.

He was quiet as you examined the deeper gashes slashed across his torso. Your hands swiped at your cheeks before your lips moved, muttering cures and charms that stitched him up like new.

You wiped the blood away, but you wrung the cloth like you still saw blood. On the fabric, on your hands, on his skin.

Your voice was devoid of life as you asked, "May I see your back?"

He winced as he sat forward. At least the pain wasn't as unbearable as earlier. He saw some herbs swirling in the basin, so it was safe to assume you'd taken extra precautions to make things as painless for him as possible. His heart wrenched as you repaired him and dirtied the water with even more blood.

"I didn't mean things to get messy," Anthony told you slowly. He felt your hand pause on his back, then continue with more careful intent. "The suspect had an accomplice we didn't account for. Had us outnumbered... and they had a spell book full of vulgar spells. Nasty ones."

"So, you took the brunt of them?"

He chanced a smirk. "You know me too well."

"You're reckless."

"I couldn't let my subordinates get hurt," he rasped, sucking in a breath when you purposely pressed down on an open wound.

You magicked it away and cleaned the blood, but you refused to meet his eyes the whole time.

Finally, the insistent shaking of the linked rings faded. It calmed your pulse by a fraction, but nothing could cease the trembling of your hands.

Anthony took the liberty to take them in his, your matching rings clinking against one another.

"I'm here... I'm okay."

You hung your head, forehead meeting your twined hands. "I almost lost you... I couldn't find your pulse right away, and there was so much blood—all I could see was red. Anthony—"

"Shh." He closed the space, flattening himself against your side and drawing you into his chest so you could feel the familiar thrum of his heart. "We're okay. I'm so sorry, sweetheart... I didn't mean to scare you."

You sniffed, hiding your face in his neck. "Why didn't you accept help from St. Mungo's? They have blood banks to replenish what you lost, I can't do much about that here."

He held you tighter, rubbing your arm as he racked his mind. "I thought it was too late for me... I just wanted to see you. I wanted to come home."

You hit his chest once, seething as you sobbed. Your tears wet his shoulder, but he didn't stop you. He took your rage until you went boneless in his arms—clinging to him like it would calm the racing of your heart.

Eventually, you picked yourself up to gather another cloth to wipe away the bloodstains on his face. Hands still shaking but determined to restore him to full health.

As low as it was, he still heard you. "I love you, you know that? It's impossible for me to remember a time where you weren't around."

He searched your eyes, finding nothing but morose truth in them. It was the first time you'd said those three words to him. Explicitly, without sarcastic connotation.

He caught your wrist, lowering your hands so he could look at you. "I know... and I love you, too. I'm sorry."

"Then why put your neck out like that? You promised me a ring, Anthony Lockwood. You gave me your word. You can't do that if you're gone."

"I'd never forget," he promised, kissing apologies across your palms and wrists. "How could I when it comes to you?"

"Then tell me why you put yourself in so much danger— in so much pain."

He licked his chapped lips. Your eyes pleaded for explanation, and he'd be cruel not to suffice you with an answer.

Reluctantly, he retrieved the box in his pocket. It was the only thing untouched by blood. Your eyes snagged on it immediately.

Anthony chuckled, nervous, before popping the case open. Inside sat an ornate ring, embellished with your birthstones put together. An eagle held yours in its talons, and a snake held his in its mouth. Your identities intertwined.

Whatever words you wanted to get out died in your throat, mouth hinging but never uttering a word.

Anthony tried his best not to stutter. "They tried to take it from me... I didn't let them. You can imagine that they weren't happy with being deprived of such a beaut."

You sunk into yourself. "You almost died... to save a ring."

"Your ring," he said carefully. "If you still want to have me as your husband, of course."

"I have half a mind to say 'no'." You laughed bitterly, swiping at your cheeks. "Merlin, Anthony... You have terrible timing when it comes to presenting things like this."

"A lot of realisations happen when you walk the line with Death."

He readjusted his hold on the box, refusing to let go of your hand. You admired the craftsmanship of the ring before you leaned on his shoulder.

"Promise me you'll never do that again. I'd rather have a husband than some hunk of metal."

He let out a breath of relief, hugging you to him as you smiled into his shoulder. "Rude. I learned how to craft a ring just for you."

"You crafted this?"

He felt the world hold its breath as he slid the ring onto your finger. A perfect fit for his perfect match. He kissed your knuckle to further cement the notion.

"From scratch," he boasted. "I made a killing from the pen business. I used the money to take some lessons from a smith in Hatton Garden."

"I cannot believe you..."

"You didn't believe me when I said I cleaned your desks before you'd arrive to class."

"That's different," you said promptly. "You almost got yourself killed to preserve a ring."

"That ring brings me one step closer to marrying you," he tutted. He even leaned down to steal a kiss. "It was worth it."

"I would have brought you back from the dead just to strangle you if you did die on our new sofa."

"Good thing I didn't."

You cracked a smile. "Good thing you didn't," you agreed. "But I'm not forgiving you so easily. You gave me a scare, Mr. Lockwood. I hope you know that you're not allowed to hug me tonight."

"I thought near-death would warrant me extra hugs."

"I can give you everything else, just not hugs."

"How cruel..."

You waved your hand dismissively. "Take it or leave it. What do you want while you're not allowed to hug me?"

Anthony wanted a lot of things. The cheesy dynamics in the books you read, the happily ever after where the couple ends up married and in love with a kid or two. He wants your kids to look like him but act like you, so you two wouldn't spend half the time greying from stress. He wanted to be part of your story forevermore.

But holding your hand would do for now.

He tangled your fingers together and kissed your knuckles. "This is enough for me."

Disbelief was written all over your face. "Really? I thought you'd be more combative."

"We have all the time in the world, sweetheart. We can live in the moment."

"I can only hope you don't jump into some other death-defying scheme again. I'll be all grey before you."

"I think you'd look like the snarkiest grandmother ever."

"Thank you, my love."

His brows furrowed. "My love?"

"What's with that reaction?" Your arms crossed. "Fine. I won't call you that."

"No! I was playing. Say it again, please."

"You lost your chance, snake boy." You shook his hand off, standing from the couch.

You didn't get far. Anthony latched to your waist, smiling into your shirt. "I pledge to never approach a renowned criminal ever again. Just say it again. Please, Sweetheart? Spitfire? My dearest vexation? M'lady?"

You didn't even get close to picking up the basin before Anthony snatched it from you.

"When I get back," he said sternly. "I want to hear you say 'my love' again. Even just a whisper. Thank you."

If you were subject to his clownery for the rest of your life, it wasn't that bad of a price to pay. He was thoughtful when he used his brain.

Every Slytherin boy needed their Ravenclaw girl to keep their ambitions from getting them into trouble, after all.

It wasn't long 'till Lockwood crashed back into your arms. Spinning you in the air like he hadn't been on the verge of death minutes prior. His eyes were wide with expectation, and you didn't want to torture the boy for too long. Not after the lengths he went to to keep your ring safe.

You exaggerated the sweetness in your tone as you said, "My love."

Anthony was more than ready to hear those words for the rest of his life.

Neither of you noticed the pair of cranes that soared past the window, announcing the end of the rain and welcoming the beginnings of a wonderful season.

BONUS ANGST ➺ If I didn't include Jessica, Anthony would be able to see Thestrals. You would do some absurd things to distract him when you pass the carriages—even when you were rivals.

⚜ PART 1 | SERIES MASTERLIST

SWEETHEARTS ➺ @kiyasoup @toddandersondupe @locknco @onecojg @avdiobliss @mentallyillsodapop @mitskiswift99 @mischivana @bella-rose29 @wordsarelife

NOTE ➺ expecto patronus was the title because the initial idea was they always protect each other :>

i like to think mitski's 'my love mine all mine' was the song they danced to. so romantic~ i'm just baffled that i was able to write so many words XD all this was once just brain barf, crazy. it was a rollercoaster, but i hope you enjoyed 💙

as always, leave your thoughts in the comments or reblogs, i love hearing feedback <3

love always 💙 until next time, my dearest vexations 😘

⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

[loneamaryllis]

Snarriet rec list - Small fics (under 30k)

Where Do We Go (When It's All Over)

by orphan_account. Rated E. 4k. Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, Pregnancy Kink.

Their bond is a complicated thing that knots up in a shared understanding of the two men that had influenced their lives.

One dead by his hands, the other by hers.

-

Or: Harry learns of Snape's survival, chases him down and twists them up into something else entirely even as Snape does his best to show her that there's nothing worth wanting.

Why I rec it: Hot smut, an annoyed Snape who can't fight his attraction to Harry, and great banter while they're fucking.

Sharing my heart, it's tearing me apart

by @pensieveprose. Rated E. 9K, WIP. (Underage) Creature Severus Snape, Soul Bond, Mind Link.

A mistake during a summoning ritual results in a soul bond between Harrie and Severus.

As Harrie and Severus tries to navigate being bonded and hiding it from everyone else, they realize the most crucial thing. They may be able to hide the bond from others, but hiding secrets from your bond mate is destined to end in disaster.

Why I rec it: The concept is great! Harrie binding Snape to her in a botched ritual... now they have to live with the consequences. Bonus points for the image of Snape with horns.

Untamed

by sheswayout. Not rated. 4k. Smut, Bearded!Snape.

In which Harrie attends the ministry gala and Snape is set to receive an Order of Merlin. Oh and Ginny made a bet or two.

Why I rec it: Nice little oneshot with some gala glitter and sex on a desk.

Mistletoe

by spicedlantern. Rated M. 8k. Mutual Pining, Stubborn Snape, Weaponized Mistletoe (sort of).

The seventh year Slytherins just want their Head of House to be happy. Severus must live with the consequences of their actions.

Why I rec it: It's such a fun fic! Snape growing increasingly frustrated with his problem while the solution is right there...

Stone Rolling

by spicedlantern. Rated M. 16k. Succubus, Jealousy, Pining.

Inevitably, the unstoppable force will meet the immovable object.

Or: Severus Snape is in some of the deepest denial possible, but a good succubus will expose the truth of any man, even those most stubborn and secretive.

Why I rec it: Severus being confronted with a succubus taking Harriet's form to seduce him and him going 'well there's been a mistake, I don't want Harriet Potter in any way, shape or form, no, never in a million years' is just. chef's kiss.

Fortunate Misfortune

by @hirukochan. Rated E. 6k. (Underage) Dubious Consent, Fuck or Die, Harrie touching things she shouldn't.

Harrie gets into contact with a nasty lust potion in Snape's potion lab while snooping. Because she is a virgin she would die without Snape's intervention.

Why I rec it: Fuck or die Snarriet! Bratty Harriet arguing with Snape's while he's fucking her :D

Snape's cat

by @loneamaryllis. Rated E. 29k. Cat Animagus Harrie, Fluff, Secrets.

Harrie's Animagus form is a cat. Snape happens to like cats.

Or: the fic where an 'Accio cat' starts everything.

Why I rec it: It's a self-rec so I'm being a bit selfish here. I like the fluffy moments, the way Snape lowers his guard around Harrie when she's a cat, and Harrie as a cat in general.

Open Book

by spicedlantern. Rated M. 18k. Mind Reading, Humor, Sex in a closet.

On the Monday of the final week of the final term of her Hogwarts career, Harriet Potter is cursed in a corridor by Pansy Parkinson. The curse seemingly fails.

By Wednesday morning of that same week, Severus Snape is certain he's gone quite mad.

Why I rec it: Snape losing his mind because he can hear Harriet's thoughts while she's thirsting after him! It's hilarious, and the smut scene is sizzling hot.

Siren's Song

by @loneamaryllis. Rated E. 19k. Siren Harriet Potter, Stoic Snape, Bathtub Sex.

"Everyone loves you," Snape had once told her with a bitter sneer. What happens when it becomes true in a very literal sense?

Why I rec it: another self-rec. I loved the idea of Harriet making everyone fall in love with her unwittingly, except Snape who isn't affected by her siren power.

[maxdibert]

STOP EVERYTHING, SEVERUS AS THE FATHER OF A GEN Z KID? GIRL, YOU JUST OPENED A DOOR, AND I’M OBSESSED WITH THIS IDEA!

Oh my gosh, it’s hilarious just to imagine it. Severus is already a bit older to be a first-time dad, but then add the fact that his child grew up surrounded by technology. The kid takes their phone and AirPods everywhere, like a wizard with their wand. They’re a little geek who spends their free time binge-watching Netflix or playing video games on their laptop, scrolling through TikTok all day, and never missing their favorite streamers' live streams. All their toys and plushies are from movies and shows they’ve been watching since they could remember.

Now imagine Severus telling his kid they have to leave all their stuff behind to go to Hogwarts, where they’ll be away from their phone for most of the year, for several years. A place where almost no one will understand their humor or sense of style. The poor kid would have a total mental breakdown, lol. I can just picture them throwing a little tantrum:

"I can’t go! The next season of Stranger Things is coming out soon, and I can’t just abandon my Sims save! And I’ll miss Kai’s live streams! How am I supposed to pass the time without listening to my Spotify playlist?! Mooooom, tell Dad I can’t go to Hogwarts!"

Meanwhile, Severus is leaning against the doorframe of their room, rethinking all of his life choices as he listens to their 'arguments' for why they shouldn’t go to Hogwarts.

The poor kid would go through a mini withdrawal at Hogwarts lol.

The whole thing is hilarious because I imagine Severus more or less giving his child instructions about Hogwarts—what the school is like, what to expect, etc.—and then the kid being like, “And if there’s no internet, how will I do my homework?” And Severus raising an eyebrow because, to him, whether at Hogwarts or not, it’s always been normal to look things up in actual books, so he’s just unfazed. “By looking in books, like it’s always been done.” And the kid frowning, super offended, like “Well, that’s a huge waste of time, dad.”

Severus trying to teach his child basic spells like Accio or Alohomora, but his wife has fully automated the house and bought an Alexa. While Severus is seriously explaining how to cast those spells, the kid just stares at him, bored, and goes, “But dad, why do you even need all that if you have Alexa? Just ask her to open the door or turn on the lights, simple.”

“You won’t have Alexa at Hogwarts.”

“From what you’ve told me, I won’t have a life at Hogwarts.”

Cue dramatic gesture, because, let’s be honest, this kid is Severus Snape’s child—they has drama running through his veins, only without the trauma. Meanwhile, they father is about to gain two hundred gray hairs.

But let’s go further—let’s bring also the mother into this too.

The mother storming in while Severus is quietly reading, slamming her hand on the table, furious:

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN I WON’T BE ABLE TO TALK TO MY CHILD ON THE PHONE AT THAT SCHOOL OF YOURS?!”

Severus, knowing a storm is coming, calmly sets his book down and looks at his wife, who’s on the verge of a breakdown.

“We’ve talked about this. There’s no technology at Hogwarts.”

“Can’t they use a spell or something like Callio or whatever?”

“That doesn’t exist.”

“Are you telling me I won’t be able to hear my baby’s voice until Christmas, and that the only way I can contact him is THROUGH BIRDS?!”

Silence.

Or something like…

“Hey, that school we’re sending our kid to… isn’t it the same one where you had so many problems and no one bothered to help you?”

“That was a different time.”

“It better be, because if anyone dares to lay a finger on my child, I’ll burn the place down.”

“Technically, Muggles can’t—”

“Then you’ll burn it down.”

[thirstingfortoxicmen]

Can I request an Ominis Gaunt x Male Reader? Where the reader is really pent up and just needs a break and Ominis gladly helps reader turn his brain off. (Dom Ominis and Sub Reader) please

Yes absolutely 👍 just a warning ive never done sub reader so... we shall see how this goes! (also it deleted my progress so this is me starting over😭)

(oneshot) 🔞🔞🔞

You feel so Beautiful🔞

Dom Ominis x Sub male Reader

(not my photo)

---

“ughhhhhh…” WHAM! my head hits the desk, rather hard but alas still not enough to swindle my headache. Unfortunately, I had woken up with a headache and people have been feeling extra dumb today, which was not helping. I squeeze my eyes tightly closed and hope to Merlin everyone goes away so I can pass away… swiftly… please? I quickly realize there is no god as i get a rude tapping on my shoulder. I take a deep breath in and raise my head from my desk only to find… the godstones kid again.

Dear Merlin I swear if thi- she interrupts me before I can spit my thoughts out, “I need your help, some kids took my gobstones again.” I deadpan.

“Have you even looked yourself, because last time i helped you it took me no less than 5 minutes, basic magic, and simple common sense.” I ask, headache brewing up a storm of death and suffering.

Her face flushing at the (accurate) accusation, “I- well its just- umm… no.” She practically mumbles the last part, she starts shuffling her feet back to the door she marched through feeling so courageous just a second before.

“yeah that's what I thought,” I mutter to myself, as she swiftly leaves the room.

“That was rather odd, what did she want?” I hear Ominis ask. He takes his seat next to me,

“Sebastian being out sick has made me realize how many bothersome people beg for my attention, her for example, wanting me to find her gobstones… again,” I sigh as I say it. Ominis chuckles at my frustration.

“That's true, Sebastian is a great guard dog that is for sure.” Ominis’s hand finds my thigh and he starts caressing it gently, sliding me closer to him. I rest my head onto his shoulder, headache dissipating slowly but surely. Also slowly but surely I feel Ominis creep his hand higher up my thigh.

“Ominis… class just started dont start teasing me now,” as I whisper that into his ears I feel his smirk grow across his face.

“Whatever could you mean,” the sarcasm audible in his voice. I see him flick his wand slightly and as I was about to ask what he'd done I felt a disillusionment charm wave over our laps. My eyes grow wide for a moment only to force my face back to normal so as to not draw attention. My cock twitching against my pants as Ominis teases me. My face had bloomed into a bright shade of red as Ominis pretends all is normal.

“Ominis please…” I beg softly, thanking Merlin that we sit at the back of the class.

“Professor, could I please be excused to Madam Pomfry’s my eyes seem to be bugging me.” Ominis speaks up.

“Yes of course Mr. Gaunt, here let's have someone help you there. hmmmm, Mr. L/n how about you help Mr. Gaunt to Madam Pomfry’s.” the professor declares.

“Yes Professor,” I manage out. My lower half now throbbing with anticipation. I quickly gather our stuff and pretend to guide Ominis to the hall, door shutting behind us. I follow Ominis as he leads me to the Undercroft. He grabs my collar pulling me close.

“Just let me do everything, alright.” Ominis all but demands. He pushes me lightly against a wall, grabbing my chin with one hand the other pressing against my erection. I exhale at the pressure, hearing that Ominis pulls me in and we kiss deep. His tongue working his magic. His hands float down below, freeing his member first then mine. Both of us red at the tips, after almost 30 minutes of teasing. Precum leaking onto the floor as Ominis grabs us both, the action causing me to groan into his mouth. We part for a breath of air. “Accio desk,” Ominis pants out. A desk from nearby pulling up behind me, he sits me on it. Slowly he starts stroking his one hand stroking both erect, leaking cocks. My hips stuttering into his hand as I grow close to the edge.

“Ominis please!” I moan out, his hips stuttering when he hears it. “I'm getting close!” We start making out again, his tongue now scouring my mouth.

“God you feel so beautiful,” Ominis groans into my ear. Like a switch flipping my eyes flutter and I moan out softly, holding onto Ominis’s shoulders I cum. Ominis looking frustrated and on the verge triggering me to hop off the desk and down to my knees. I move Ominis’s hand off his cock and take him into his mouth, he grabs my hair and forces me down. Gagging on him I look up at his face and see a flushed face. Tears welling in my eyes I hear, “C-cumming!” I wait until he finishes before removing my mouth and swallowing. “You did so amazing my dove,” Ominis says. Helping me to my feet I cast a cleaning charm, the mess vanishing. “We should probably go back to class now,” Ominis says whilst holding my face in his hand.

“Ugh, don't remind me.” I say over exaggerating my face. Ominis laughs, having felt my face move.

“Darn…”

“What?”

“It seems my eyes still hurt,” A smirk growing across Ominis’s face.

[chubby-maimaki]

"blame it on the alcohol" omg 🤣🤣🤣

The most inaccurate quote 🥲

[goldrosh]

in the last sugar rush post from 2023, @accio-victuuri asked us to list our top 5 cpns from last year but since I'm late I thought on doing a post. thank you for those recopilatory monthly posts, btw! they're very helpful and when you read them you also relive those beautiful moments. and overall for always keeping us updated about everything going on with our boys.

so here's my top 5 cpns from 2023

the inner mongolia saga: I decided to call it like that for everthing that happened from the moment xz went to film there. it started with yb's first selfie of 2023 and all the clowning about him perhaps visiting the loch set, the infamous black cloth, all the speculation about him owning a leica camera, the confirmation of him owning a leica camera, xz's birthday post that also had him posing with a leica camera, the camping pic, and everything culminating with yb's own pics taken in inner mongolia. honestly, september and october were such busy months to being a clown, I love how everything just developed little by little and fell like pieces of a puzzle.

the suspicious change on xz's filming schedule: when ybo reported that yb won't be able to participate in the star of the one and only promo period, everyone got worried, since when yb takes days off while sick? the next day tho, some reports came in; after days of going to film at a certain early time, xz was going a little bit late. "interesting" said every turtle in the world, "let's see how this continues". and boy, it did continue, casually until yb's recovery. a happy coincidence.

anniversary?: when we all thought nothing was toping the inner mongolia saga, november 19 happened. and to think everything started very innocently with yb updating his douyin and then everything scalating into the possibility of them sorting out the seriousness of their relationship one november 19... I honestly loved how everyone started to bring up years of clues and how it just made sense.

wedding outfit: this one is very self explanatory, their weinbo night outfits that strangely looked like wedding outfit. I would have loved to see them both walking out the red carpet but we all know how weinbo loves to self sabotage I mean I enjoy when they do that but not that night! I like to think that the reason why they chose those outfits is because their first weinbo night is also called "divorce night" and, after years of not attending the same event, they wanted to give us a wedding night. yes, I am that much of a clown, thank you.

ybo's birthday post: this one hit me so hard that I still tear up whenever I read "yb, the sunset is very beautiful". to most, that post it's just a very well written birthday wish, but if you're like me and believe xz wrote it then knowing that these two boys love each other so deeply is reason enough to warm your heart. "time does not have a pause button, yet you seem to hold the password for the occasional pauses in the world". cry with me 🥲

honorific mention to: THE hat (yb made it hard to ignore lmao), everything is lovely and its promo (at first I wasn't trying to read too much into the colors that were used to promote the ep but then the bone necklace appeared and changed my mind), mysterious driver (just so you all know I'm totally sold on this) and overall this year that seemed to have them together for longer periods of time.

[roohuh]

🪄The Duel🪄

Ominis x MC

Tags: @abbiesxox 🫣

Summary: in an effort to impress MC Ominis decides to challenge her to a duel.

Warnings: friendly dueling so slight violence. Mostly fluff about how elegant Ominis is

Ominis never felt the need to duel, only sparing with Sebastian in the undercroft and when it was necessary for his classes. He never felt the need to showboat as Sebastian did; he was much more content to listen to his friends' endeavors. But now that humility seemed to handicap his effort to prove himself to Y/N. He wanted to show her he was capable of protecting her or at the least having her back. He wanders into the cross wand arena. Hearing Y/N he strides over with confidence and places a soft hand on your head feeling your soft hair beneath. Absentmindedly he runs his fingers through your hair taking in the scent as you turn around in your seat to look up at his warm smile.

“Oh hello there!” Your enthusiastic greeting sends waves of warmth though his body.

“Going to duel?” He questions

“No one will fight me after I won all three consecutive rounds by myself.” You laugh sourly.

“Besides Sebastian of course but I gave him such a thrashing yesterday he is still pouting.” Ominis chuckles as he was there for the so called thrashing which was in fact a close fight as you had the handicap of no ancient magic.

“Care for a fight then?” His challenge draws the attention of not just you; no one had seen him duel in crossed wands before and more than a few wondered if he was capable of much more than a polite exchange of spells.

“You're on!” You jump up before he can take it back a competitive fire lit beneath you although with a bit trepidation unsure of his skill level not wanting to hurt his body or pride.

Soon a crowd gathers to see the champion face off against the blind Gaunt with Sebastian front and center eager to watch, knowing fully well what his friends are each capable of. Ominis, having shed his cloak, stood at the ready waiting for Lucan to give the signal. Unable to take your eyes off of his toned frame and defined arms you almost miss the start.

“Levioso” he calls out. Which you easily block. You both start circling each other feeling out your opponent. The red glow of Ominis wand only ceases to send spells your way. His footwork so elegant you could almost call it a dance every move deliberate and thought through. Ominis is a strategic opponent. Spell after spell you are seemingly equally matched. Spells reverberate around the large stone room. Feeling yourself start to lose pase you fall back a bit to try him from a different angel.

“Accio” you feel yourself being pulled towards Ominis straight into his arms. The scent of his colne fills your senses.

“Ready to admit defeat?” He whispers in your ear causing your heart to pound at the closeness. For a moment you consider surrender in hopes to linger in his arms longer. However your pride will not let you lose that easily and push away from him shouting.

“Never! Expelliarmus!” He deflects your attack and moves back. You can smell the lingering scent of Ominis on your robes.

“Confringo!” You are hit square in the chest by his spell and it sends you flying back knocking the air from your lungs. Before Lucan had a chance to announce him as the winner Ominis flies to your side, apologies pouring from his lips.

“I thought you would catch that I am so sorry Y/N!” You gasp trying to catch the breath. Once you regain your composure you begin to laugh at your mistake.

“You really got me with that one!” The crowd cheers at Ominis victory over the undefeated champion. He helps you to your feet, continuing to hold your hand once you are standing. Still seemingly worried about hurting you.

“Are you sure you are alright?” He asks in a low tone leaning in close. You nod trying to not be swept away by his continual closeness.

“You fight well Gaunt” your compliment sends a swell of pride through him.

“I only won because you did not use ancient magic.” He admits fairly.

“You won because you are a formidable opponent.” You correct him. Ominis blushes and shrugs not used to compliments.

“Care to buy the sore loser a butterbeer?” You ask

“With pleasure.” He says softly kissing the back of your hand before leading you out of the room.

[lunasky2491]

accio-srirachaFollow

darkcrowprincess asked:

Regulus upset and slams down the book of dark magic:You brought him into my life and now I want you to bring him back. Bring him back! I have never asked you for anything. I've never asked you for spells but do this. I know you can bring him back.

Narcissa: No, dear. We won't do that.

Andromeda: We don't do that.

Regulus tearing up but angrily flipping through the pages of the book:But you can. You can do this. I know you can. I remember. I found it here when mommy and daddy died.

Narcissa: Even if we did bring him back, it wouldn't be James. It would be something else. Something dark and unnatural.

Regulus: [Starts crying, and out right begs] I don't care what he comes back as. As long he comes back. Please do this for me. Please? Please? Please? Please?

oww this would make such a good au or one shot like imagine James coming back to life but has forgotten everything, twisted by dark magic to make him fearful of all that he originally held dear to him.

Now think of James hiding in the shadows, avoiding all his remaining friends and Regulus trying to come near him only for James to flinch back. Regulus thinking himself as a monster and that’s why James hates him, ran away when he first saw him.

James running away in the wood where the ritual to revive him took place scared and confused not even knowing who he is

give me a scared and confused James trying to make sense of a falling apart world that he had no memory off, dogging people in masks and dark cloaks trying to kill him when he had no idea why

give me a guilt filled Regulus falling apart when the only person who ever fully trusted him looks him in the eye fearful and and afraid, Regulus who thinks it’s all his fault and James hates him and what he has done

another gut wrenching story filled with agony and pain

“a great big tragedy”

one full of confusion and misunderstanding, one where horrors come to life.

one where Regulus was always destined to miss the sun, just by a little bit

[rainbowsky]

Hi! What do you think of the new camera cpn? I don't think I saw you talk about it. I love reading long cpn analyses but I haven't seen many people analyze the camera thing so I'm very eager to know people's thoughts about it

Hi Anon!

I've been ill for the past few weeks (recovering, I'll be fine), so haven't been online much, which is why you haven't seen me talking about much or responding to asks. I don't really have the spoons right now to dig too deeply into this (you're not likely to see any long analysis from me for a bit) but I can give a few thoughts on it.

Fake, fan fiction, CPN.

GG has been seen using Leica cameras and other sophisticated camera equipment for years. He is, after all, a professional graphic designer and photographer who used to be the primary photographer for a photography studio he ran with friends.

He has been spotted using this specialized Leica that is optimized for black and white photography, and has shared black and white photos in the past.

Now suddenly we see DD - someone who, while he's had a lot of hobbies, has never shown any special interest in photography - wandering the streets of Paris with a new Leica that's an updated model of the same one GG's been using, that's optimized for black and white photography...

Not only does he appear to be taking up photography (or at least being public about his interest in photography, if it's something he's developed over time), but it's black and white photography, and he's using a Leica - a fairly niche, very expensive brand - of the same type and similar model as GG has been using.

Sometimes I feel like I have to remind everyone to have a sense of perspective on things like this, because it's easy to forget or overlook relevant context. And by that I mean, let's consider how something like this would be received if it was a man and a woman who had been rumored to be in a relationship and who suddenly appeared to be using the same camera brand of similar models in this narrow 'black and white' space. MF relationships have been completely 'outed' by less.

This is pretty damn unwashable in my eyes. Just like the phone case, this is another situation of these guys 'coincidentally' having the exact same taste in something that's not popular or mainstream.

Both of them using a credit card iPhone case, in CHINA, where everyone pays for everything via phone apps, not via credit cards?

Now this camera... BJYXSZD.

So those are my thoughts on this very 💣 candy.

However, for deeper analysis and some of the details, photos, etc. you can check out @accio-victuuri's posts on the subject. You can find those posts here:

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