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adorerdraco · 4 years ago

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Healing Heart ✧ Draco x Reader Mini-Series PART 1

Summary: Draco meets and accidentally falls in love with reader during his sixth year (HBP). Part 1 of a upcoming series.

Warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of blood, crying, panic attacks

Words: 6.4K words (I made this so longgg)

A/N: my first Draco writing !!! i am sorry ahead of time if there are any misspellings, typing with long acrylics is hard omg. ALSO PLEASE FEEL FREE TO SEND ME REQUESTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! also i do not own this gif.

It was almost satirical how Draco managed to fall in love with someone at what might be, is, the lowest point in his life. It was his sixth year at Hogwarts, the dark mark burned into his left forearm, the restless mending of the vanishing cabinet, the impossible task of killing his Headmaster, the Dark Lord looming over him and his family with promises of torture and death if he didn’t follow through with the orders he was given.

Draco was an empty shell of what he used to be. The playful and mean remarks that would leave his mouth to anyone that stood in his path were gone. The devious twinkle in his eye and the smug smirk that used to grace his face almost 24/7 was reduced to a permanent scowl and red-rimmed eyes. He looked as if he had aged a rough 10 years since the last year he was at school. Everyone noticed it.

Everyone noticed the skipped meals, the lack of sleep, the empty look in his eyes, the falling behind in class. But no one dared say a thing to him. It almost seems as though people were afraid of him now more than ever. The sneer on his face and the reckless and impulsive attitude he held now was like a repellent for anyone that tried to come near. He was completely alone, whether he liked it or not and he decided to keep it that way.

That all changed a few months into the year, however, when you were rushing to DADA, your long house colored scarf getting tangled underneath your feet causing you to trip and lurch forward, dropping all your books, your wand, and crashing into, you guessed it, Draco Malfoy himself. There was a loud cracking sound as you both tumbled onto the ground, a yelp slipping past Draco’s lips as he held his hand in pain.

"Oh, Merlin,” you gasped, Draco shooting you the dirtiest glare. “Draco, I’m so sorry.”

Before he could open his mouth to tell you off and incessantly insult you into oblivion, you reached forward and took his wounded hand in yours, the softness of your hands and tender touch throwing him off guard. He watched you as you examined the damage on one of his fingers.

“It’s just a sprain,” you finalized after inspecting it for a couple seconds. Draco recoiled his hand from yours as if he had touched a hot surface. He moved to get up and you huffed out a “wait, hold on,” as you scrambled around the ground for your wand. When you felt the wood underneath your fingertips, you clutched it and jumped to your feet, gently grabbing onto the sleeve of Draco’s robe who was already trying to retreat.

“Get away,” he snarled, snatching his arm out of your grasp.

“Let me help,” you pleaded softly, “it’ll be quick, I promise.”

Draco looked down at you with annoyance. He was about to leave again until he felt that same tender touch from just a few moments ago. The feeling stunning him again as he looked down at his hand that was now lying palm up in yours.

“Episkey,” you drawled the wand over his injured finger, the both of you watching the swollen and purple bruise beginning to form suddenly fade away.

Draco gave you one last scowl before he snatched his hand out of yours and turned around to leave the corridor, leaving you standing there dumbfounded as he quickly walked away, his cloak floating behind him like the professor, who’s class you now realized you were very late for.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

That night, Draco lied awake staring at his ceiling he had charmed to resemble a starry night sky. His mind wandered off to think about spells he could try to help fix the vanishing cabinet and different ways he could kill Dumbledore without actually having to face him. He thought of his parents, mostly his mom, and how much he wishes he could save her and himself from this life. He thought of this school and how much he missed being an unknowing child who just did his schoolwork, played quidditch and bully the Golden Trio. He missed the two-dimensional life he used to live. Even if he used to be a complete ignorant and snobby arse, he was a happy one at that. Only now he knows that life isn’t what mummy or daddy say it is, in fact, it is so much worse.

He found his mind wandering to his uneventful day of dragging himself through his classes and failed attempts on the cabinet in the room of requirement. He then all of a sudden remembered the klutzy y/h/c girl that tripped into him and sprained his finger. He remembered how soft her touch was and how gentle she was in fixing said finger. That feeling was hard to forget. He hasn’t felt such tenderness since he doesn’t know how long. He recalled his mother’s hug before he boarded the train to Hogwarts, but that was ages ago.

In his ever growing turmoil, there wasn’t an ounce of warmth in Draco’s life since he’s returned to school. The coldness he was feeling on the inside was just as apparent as it was in his surroundings. He catches himself wishing he could feel that touch again, something about you radiated warmth, and just as quick as that thought appeared, he pushed it away.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The next day, as Draco was leaving the room of requirement and into the empty corridor, he felt the familiar ache in his chest that began to flow through his body. He had made little to no progress today on the cabinet. He felt a panic attack on the horizon, his breathing becoming staggered and tears pricking his eyes. He hated it. He hated feeling so weak.

He began rushing towards Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, his tears blurring his vision and just like the day before, he crashed right into someone. Instinctively, he held the other person in place by their biceps so neither of them would fall. But that still didn’t stop how upon impact, the other person’s head had collided with his bottom lip. He squeezed his eyes in pain as he felt the skin break and blood quickly escaping it. When he pulled back, he focused on the figure in front of him and realized it was you. The same klutzy girl he bumped into yesterday.

“Oh no, not again,” you frown, placing your hand on the part of your head that met Draco’s lip.

“You ought to watch where you’re going, you twit,” he snarls, stepping away from you in anger.

“It was an accident,” you responded just as harshly. You take a deep breath and throw the attitude aside. He was bleeding for Merlin’s sake and you felt bad that it was because of you. “I’m sorry, please let me heal you again,” you offer, taking a step towards him, closing up the space he had made.

“I think you’ve done enough,” he backs up, eyeing you down.

“Draco, please, just let me heal your lip and i’ll be out of your way,” you ask again, your soft and guilt ridden e/c eyes peering up at him through your lashes. Draco’s heart flutters, his anger subsiding for a second and he nods.

You step towards him once more and unexpectedly place a warm hand on his face while the other brings your wand up to his lip where it hovers. It was a non-verbal spell you used this time and he felt the pulsating pain in his lip subside to nothing.

Even though he was healed, you both stayed in that position, your hand still on his cheek and his eyes gazing into yours. He didn’t realize it at that moment, but the pain in chest had also subsided, just a little. The tears had gone. His breathing was drastically slower.

“What’s your name?” the question tumbled from his lips before he could stop it. You gave him a small smile, your hand falling from his face and he frowns when he feels the cold on his skin from the loss of contact.

“It’s Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N” you answer. “We have potions together this year, actually.”

Draco thought back to that class, now that Slughorn was teaching it he hardly paid attention, especially since he felt he was skilled in it anyways so he would let himself slip into his thoughts and let the whole period pass by in a haze. He feels as though he might have heard your name here and there, but he wasn’t so sure.

“Hm, funny, I’ve never noticed you,” he says, not intending it to sound rude but it did. He watches your face fall and he feels a slight guilt poke at him.

“Well, like I said, I’ll be out of your way now,” you mumble to him, brushing past him softly as you continued your path out of the corridor and out of his sight.

He didn’t know why, but he felt a little sad to see you go. He shook his head, shaking the thought from his mind and instead of the bathroom, he decided to go to his room, no longer feeling like he did before your little encounter.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

As days went on, Draco ended up paying more attention in Slughorn’s class. Not to the chubby old professor, but to you, who he shared subtle glances with throughout classes and half-hearted smiles.

You wanted nothing more than to continue talking to him. To be in his presence. He was like a magnet to you, while everyone else thought the opposite of him. Even Pansy, who usually was up his ass, distanced herself from the ghost of the boy she once obsessed over. You couldn’t lie, the small crush you harbored on Draco had only grown more and more each day. It started about three years ago, during your third year when you had seen him in the hospital wing after his run-in with Buckbeak.

You remember the sheer shock you felt when you had seen him for the first time that year. The slicked back hair was gone, he had grown several inches taller, maybe even a foot taller now that you thought about it. His voice had deepened into that haughty tone you somehow couldn’t get enough of. But just like you, many other girls noticed these changes too and began pursuing him. Something you’d never had the guts to do.

Until now.

The feelings you had been suppressing for the past 3 years had come back in overflow the second you bumped into him the other day. Even worse this time since you’ve actually had a conversation with him now and the fact that he won’t stop looking at you.

Slughorn pulled you out of your thoughts when he announced to everyone to partner up to brew the potion he had been lecturing us on all week. Draught of Peace.

“This is your chance,” your friend besides you sings to you as you looked longingly in Draco’s direction who hasn’t moved from his spot.

“No, he usually works by himself, I don’t want to bother him anymore than I have,” you sigh, slumping down in your seat.

“Y/N, you’ve been in love with him since third year,” she huffs, “besides, maybe he only works alone because no one can stand being near him.”

“Shhh, someone might hear you,” you hiss, slumping even lower into your seat. “I am not in love with him, it’s just a stupid crush,” you whisper angrily to her while she only rolls her eyes.

“Okay, well, have fun working alone,” she smirks, getting up from her seat and scurrying across the room to join another classmate. You gape at her in distress, she returns the same gesture, mocking you. She then points over to Draco and smiles, giving you an encouraging thumbs up.

You rest your head in your hand for a second, feeling the hot blush that had made its way onto your face and focused your gaze onto the table in front of you. You mentally hexed your friend, who thought it’d be a good idea if she were ditch you so you would be forced to look for another partner. Jokes on her, you’re not getting up from this seat.

‘I can’t go up to him,” you thought, ‘he probably thinks I’m some annoying creep who won’t leave him alone. I’ll just work by myself.”

Draco looks over at you, noticing the empty space beside you and the frown on your face as you pushed your Potions book to the side and sat up to get your cauldron ready. You were alone, and so was he. He fought himself on whether or not he should join you. It was a bold move, especially for him. He was used to working alone, but the longer he looked at you, the more he found himself missing the sound of your honey sweet voice and soft eyes. Before he had any more time to argue with himself about it, he gathered up all his things and walked over to the empty spot next to you.

“Do you want help?” Draco asked awkwardly, immediately regretting his decision to move. Your eyes shot up from the potion book, not expecting to see the blond next to you with a faint blush on his cheeks.

“Um, yes, actually, that’d be nice,” you mutter out to him, moving some stuff around on the table so that he would have space for his. You could hardly contain the deep red blush that was already on your face from intensifying at his presence. You swallowed thickly as the realization set in that your longtime crush was right beside you and even offering a helping hand. Which in Draco’s case was extremely rare, almost unheard of. Matter of fact, this is something the Slytherin Prince has never done.

He sets his bag down and his supplies and takes a seat, rolling up his sleeves so that he could get started on crushing the porcupine quills into the moonstone powder. The amount of times he has made this potion by now for himself was sad, but good in this case since he would be able to impress you with his skill.

He worked diligently and quietly and you watched as his long slender fingers worked everything with attention and precision. You were looking up at him every now and then which you now realized was a terrible idea considering you were in the middle of cutting ginger root and you weren’t exactly coordinated to begin with. You felt the sharp blade slide across your finger and a small gasp left your mouth when the pain instantly began once the first drop of blood fell.

Draco looked at you in confusion, his eyes widening slightly when he saw the blood dripping from your hand and your face contorted in pain. You ignored the looks Draco was giving you, afraid that he might be looking at you with contempt for being sloppy.

“Y/L/N, perhaps you should go to Madam Pomfrey,” Draco suggests, now seeing that the cut was very deep as you inspected it. In fact, it was so deep he swore he could’ve seen bone.

“No, it’s fine, I can heal it,” you ignored the sharp pain and placed your hand on the table and pointed your wand at the cut with your uninjured hand. You focused on the cut and closed your eyes, letting your wand do its magic with your unspoken spell. When you opened your eyes, the cut was gone, just a small scar in its place and drying blood around it. “You see,” you smile, turning towards Draco and waving your finger, “brand new.”

“You don’t want dittany for the scarring?” Draco asked with an eyebrow raised.

“No, I don’t mind them and this one is small anyways. They’re like memories to me. Some come from good experiences, some bad. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a little clumsy,” you explain, a small smile on your lips.

“Trust me, I’ve noticed,” he sighs, “so you’ve managed to become your own healer because of that?”

“Exactly that,” you hummed. “That’s actually what I’m studying to be. I plan on being at St. Mungo’s once we graduate. I’ve been studying for it my whole life.”

Draco was silent for a moment. He watched as you carefully threw ingredients into the cauldron and stirred them with caution. He noticed that despite your clumsiness, you handled everything you touched with a care and gentleness. It was a calming sight to him for some reason and he faintly smiled.

“I think you’d be a great healer,” he complimented quietly. You looked at him with one of the brightest smiles he’s ever seen and his heart swells at the thought of it being because of him. He feels a smile mirroring yours that tries to break through, but he fights it.

“You know, you’re a lot nicer than you let on,” you say quietly, waiting for his reaction from the corner of his eye. Draco wants to give you a snarky remark, just to uphold his cold reputation he’s given himself since his first day back at Hogwarts, but he doesn’t.

Instead of saying anything, he just shrugged and gave you a small smile, turning his attention back to the task at hand. You do the same, choosing to enjoy the comfortable silence that had settled.

When Slughorn came by to check when you finished, he eyed you and Draco and smiled.

"Ahh, Mr. Malfoy, I’m glad you’ve finally decided to partner up with someone,” he gleamed. “Miss Y/L/N here is an excellent potions student such as yourself.”

“Yes, she is,” Draco responded, keeping his eyes trained on the professor. He didn’t want to look at you, feeling embarrassed that he has now complimented you twice in the last 20 minutes. You smiled to yourself, something you’ve been doing a lot of since the slytherin boy sat next to you.

“Well, I suppose you’ll be pleased to know the two of you have brewed an outstanding potion,” Slughorn grins, “both of you will receive perfect marks on this. You can be excused from today’s class now.”

“Thank you, Professor,” you begin gathering your things and turn towards Draco. “I’ll see you next class? Or maybe somewhere around the castle when I accidentally bump into you.”

Draco chuckles and shakes his head, “perhaps. I’ll see you soon, Y/L/N.”

With that, he strides out of the class, you staring at the back of his platinum blond head with a stupid smile on your face.

“You’re welcome,” your friend suddenly appeared next to you, playfully slapping your arm. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen Draco look so... calm.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Weeks had gone by, and several Potions classes. The seat beside you now belonged to Draco and the two of you had in a sense, become friends. Or acquaintances. You couldn’t quite say.

He was still brooding and mostly kept to himself, but he would converse with you here and there about things, almost always school. The two of you continuously getting outstanding marks on everything you produced much to Slughorn’s delight.

Sometimes he would come to class looking disheveled or angry and those were the days where no matter how much you tried to talk to him to at least maybe get his mind off things, he would ignore you. Wouldn’t even look at you. You couldn’t deny how it had hurt your feelings, but you would brush off the hurt and remind yourself that it wasn’t personal. He was obviously going through something, you didn’t know what, but you had to respect that sometimes he just didn’t want to talk. That was hard. Especially because you just wanted to hear his voice or see him give you that rare smile when you would say something he found amusing or you would accidentally drop something off the table with your elbows or knocked over with your hands.

You were rounding a corridor when you saw the flash of blond zoom past you. He didn’t see you, but you saw the pointed look in his eyes and the tears that were pooling in the stormy gray eyes that you adored. You mentally fought yourself on whether or not you should follow him, he looked so upset and all you wanted to do was give him a peace of mind. So you followed him, all through two corridors until he disappeared into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

Your heart broke at the sobs that filled the bathroom. They were full of pain and despair. The sound of his rapid breathing mixed in with his cries was more than enough to let you know that he was having a panic attack. You pushed open the door slightly to see him hunched over a sink, his robe discarded on the ground along with his vest and tie leaving him in only a white long sleeved dress shirt.

You wanted to run in and help, but stayed back, realizing that this was something that was extremely personal. You knew he would be livid if you or anyone saw him like this, so broken and emotional. You were about to leave, all of a sudden feeling very ashamed for even following him in here. You watched as he looked up into the mirror, an anger flashing in his eyes as he stared at the reflection looking back at him. Not yours, but his. All he could see was a monster staring back at him. A failure. A weak man. He was disgusted and angry with what he saw and before he knew what he was doing, he had pulled his fist back and you watched it collide with the middle of the mirror where he had been. The glass shattered upon impact, the shards now flying in all different directions and embedding into his knuckles. He fell to the ground on his knees, in pain and clutching his fist as his cries only got louder.

That was when you threw open the door, rushing in to help him, not caring that you were going to have to put up a fight in order to even get near him. Draco’s eyes shot up to meet yours, and just like you thought, he was beyond pissed to see you.

Draco has never felt such humiliation in his life. The beautiful and kind y/h girl he had acquainted himself with, was now looking at him with pity. He grabbed his wand from his pocket, pointing it at you with such quickness that you faltered in your steps.

“Get. Out!” He yelled, his wand shaking violently in his uninjured hand. He would never hex you, but he figured you would fall for his bluff and leave. But you didn’t. You only sat yourself down a few feet away from him and felt your own tears begin to fall. “Y/L/N, I swear to Merlin, if you don’t leave, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” you challenged. “I just want to help.”

“I don’t need your help,” he sneered, his wand still pointed at you.

“You’re bleeding, a lot, Draco,” you point to his bloodied hand that curled to his chest. “You know I can save you a trip to the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey’s interrogation.”

After a few moments of silence and a wand still pointed at you, you slowly scoot towards him. Your hand encloses around the one holding his wand and you lower it for him while he watches you. He was still crying and breathing heavily. His panic attack somehow getting worse now and no longer having the energy to fight you. You finally reach him, now knee to knee with him and you place a hand on his shoulder.

“Draco, just breath with me,” you say calmly. “In,” you took a long exaggerated inhale, and after a few seconds, “out,” and let out an equally exaggerated exhale. You did that with him for a while, his pained gray eyes focused on yours the whole time, never breaking eye contact. Once he was calmed down enough and was just left with the post crying hiccoughs, you took his injured hand in yours. There was shards and particles of glass stuck in his reddened and bloody skin.

You reached into your robe pocket and pulled out a set of tweezers you kept with you. You often found yourself getting splinters or tiny rocks stuck in your skin when your hands hit the pavement when you’d fall you try and catch yourself.

“This might hurt,” you warn, starting to remove one of the biggest pieces. He sharply inhales as you try your best to do take it out carefully.

It was quiet the rest of the process, just sniffles and gasps from Draco when you had removed a piece that especially hurt. When you were done, you waved your wand over the gashes and watched as they faded into faint pink scars. You got up, pulling him with you and took him to the sink where you rinsed off the blood from both your hands and his.

He couldn’t say anything. He didn’t know what. He just stared at you, dumbfounded and confused. You turned your body to face his and he did the same, eyeing you carefully and still very cautious to any move you made.

“I can leave now, if you’d like me to,” you offer quietly. He stayed silent, wondering if he should just send you off. But he didn’t want to. You had already seen him at his worst, and he was terribly alone, so he just shook his head ‘no.’ You looked up at him and decided to risk it all. “Can I give you a hug?”

Draco was stunned at the question, his heart pounding against his chest. “I suppose,” he managed to let out in a strained voice.

You slowly stepped closer to him and slid your arms up his biceps until your hands met behind his neck. You stood on your tippy toes and pulled him into you, his chin now resting on your shoulder as your hand smoothed the back of his head. You felt him stiff under your touch and as he got comfortable in your embrace, his arms raised from his sides and snaked around your waist, pushing you flush against him. You stayed like that for what felt like forever, and he held you tightly, not wanting to let go.

This was the first time in a long time that he had felt any type of relief. It had been such a constant uphill battle for him, day after day. He took a deep inhale accidentally, but the smell of your perfume and shampoo filling his nose and his mind made him feel at ease. The warmth of your body from underneath his fingertips brought him peace and succor.

“Thank you,” he whispered into your hair so quietly that if you weren’t so focused on him, you would’ve missed it.

“Anytime.”

That was the day Draco Malfoy became your friend.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Potions class was no longer the only place you would see Draco. Now that the two of you were comfortable with one another and he trusted you more than anyone else, he found himself hanging out with you every day during his free time when he would be done messing with the cabinet.

It would be taking walks around the castle. Sneaking out at night and meeting behind statues to talk. Sitting together at a bench in the courtyard. Skipping stones along the Black Lake. It’s been months of this. Months of friendship he so desperately needed. You had helped him through several more panic attacks and meltdowns, each time coming closer together. He never told you about what caused them. The worst ones were when he found he had almost killed Katie Bell and Ron Weasley, and as much as you begged him to tell you, he kept his mouth shut.

He had spent so much time with you that it was affecting him. But for the better. He found himself eating again at the Slytherin table and his friends were more than excited to have him back. He still wasn’t too buddy-buddy with everyone as he once was, but he joined conversations and shared a couple jokes. He was even sleeping a little more. He was still beyond stressed, but it wasn’t as gut-wrenching. He enjoyed Potions again and even started paying a little more attention in his other classes. His new found energy even helped him greatly progress in mending the vanishing cabinet, finally making a breakthrough in fixing it.

He would lie awake at night sometimes and thank Merlin you crashed into his life, literally. You were like an angel to him, healing his heart with every word and smile and touch you sent his way. It was easy with you. He tried his best to keep his emotions at bay, reminding himself that when he would have to follow through with his task, he would lose you and that thought pained him to no end. But he was selfish, and he adored you with every fiber of his being so he couldn’t leave you alone. And especially not when he needed you most.

Today, you lied in the grass, shoulder to shoulder and staring up at the sky and watching the clouds. You were a little ways from the castle, away from all your other classmates and teachers and it was nice. Finally being able to enjoy time with the Slytherin Prince without people gawking at the two of you.

“My mother used to do this with me when I was a small,” Draco trailed off, his eyes following a particular funny shaped cloud. “She would take me out to the garden behind the Manor, usually when father was doing some work at the ministry. But we would sit against this tall oak tree and I’d be on her lap and she’d have her arms wrapped around me and she would point out the funniest shaped clouds and try to pinpoint what they resemble. Sometimes she’d even joke around and say the weirdest shaped cloud looked like father.”

You giggled at that last part, your heart swelling at the story. He rarely talked about his family, but when he did, it would always be of his mother and a happy memory he had with her, never his father.

“Draco, can I ask you something?” you turn onto your side, your elbow holding you up as you gazed down at him.

“What do you wanna know, darling?” you blushed at the nickname but brushed it aside, knowing he only meant it in a friendly way.

“Forgive me if it’s rude, you don’t have to answer,” you begin, “but do you miss your father? I know it’s none of my business and I’m so sorry the Daily Prophet put your family business on blast like that. I can’t imagine how that must have felt.”

Draco frowned and followed you in turning onto his side and propping himself up with his elbow to face you. You remembered the image of Draco and his mother on the newspaper, bright lights flashing across their faces as all the press tried to get picture of them after the sentencing of Lucius Malfoy to Azkaban. You remembered seeing Draco look so sad, yet strong beside his mother as he looked from her and then into the camera with disdain.

“Sometimes, I do,” he answers, eyebrows furrowed as he thought of his father. “My whole life, he’s expected nothing short of perfection from me. There were no room for mistakes, and if I made any, I would be punished for them. I remember coming to Hogwarts was like an escape, a place where I could finally sort of relax and be a child. I don’t miss his scolding or his coldness. But I miss having a father, I miss going home on that first day of summer and seeing both my parents even if he was going to reprimand me for something later on in the day. He’s been with me my whole life, and now he’s gone, stuck in a cell in Azkaban. He’s never going to be the same. Home is never going to be the same.”

You felt tears prick your eyes as you listened to the boy beside you, a distant look in his eyes as he turned back over on his back to look at the sky in the middle of his explanation. You sat up and he did the same, looking at you with a frown when he noticed you were about to cry. You took your hand in his and held it tightly.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” you mumble. “You don’t deserve any of the bad things you’ve been through.”

“I do,” he shrugs. “I’ve been a real git since I’ve been at Hogwarts, you know.”

“You’re different now,” you say. “Sure, you still haven’t lost a little bit of the Malfoy snobbishness and you’re still a bit of a git, but you’re kinder and more gentle. You’re a lot more empathetic and perceptive. I mean, I’ve never spoken to you prior to this year, but your reputation follows and the Draco in front of me doesn’t seem anything like the Draco you were.”

“How you’ve managed to insult me while complimenting me is something I’ve never seen anyone be able to do successfully is astonishing,” he laughs, a smile growing on his face as you laughed with him.

“I’m serious, Dray,” you giggle, “I think you’re a good person.”

“I’m not good,” he thinks to himself. The compliment leaving your lips made him feel foul. He didn’t deserve to have such a kind soul complimenting him to be something he’d never amount to. He frowned and harshly stood up, and you quickly followed. Suddenly afraid that you might have overstepped your boundaries.

“Where are you going?” You ask, fear trembling in your voice. He begins to hurriedly walk off and you chase after him, stopping in front of him so you could place your hands on his chest to stop him.

“Y/N, let me go,” he pleads. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“I think I’ve been around you long enough to know who you are.”

“Not long enough.”

You stare up at him, but he refuses to look at you. His body feels rigid under your touch and it pains you to see him beginning to shut down again.

“I know something has been bothering you this year, and I know it’s not just because of what happened with your father,” you start. “I don’t know what is hurting you so deeply enough to make you hate yourself, but I’m here to tell you that whatever that thing is, it doesn’t define you.”

Draco swallows thickly, the tears already falling down his cheeks. “It does, it does.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you cry with him. “Even if you don’t see your goodness, I do.”

Both you and Draco are crying, the tree you were now standing under was swaying violently in the wind, as if it was picking up on your guys’ emotions. You placed a hand on his cheek, and he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I’m not good,” he whispers to you, “and once you see that, you’re going to hate me.”

“I could never hate you, Draco Malfoy,” you promise, a complete sincerity in your voice that it makes his heart jump.

Draco lifts his head up and sniffles, he watched you do the same, peering up at him through your wet lashes. He brought his thumb up to smooth the crease in between your eyebrows, letting it fall down to your cheeks where he wiped away the stray tears that had stilled. His hand then landed on your mouth that was pulled down in a grimace that matched his own. His thumb grazed over your lips, the softness of them nearly driving him mad. He wanted nothing more than to feel them against his own, but he couldn’t bring himself to kiss you. He didn’t want to drag you into the darkness of his life more than he already has.

“Kiss me,” you said to him, so softly but it rang loud in his ears. You had seen the way he looked at you and how he seemed so focused on your lips. You knew what he was thinking because it was exactly what you were thinking. You wanted this just as badly as he did. “Kiss me.”

Every argument he had in his head vanished and suddenly he closed the small space between the two of you and gently placed his lips onto yours. It was a fluid movement, like two puzzle pieces fitting together.

Your hands found their way in his hair, holding him closer to you and he did the same by gripping onto your hips. His lips were soft against yours, filled with fervor and desire. He was gentle with you, but you could still feel the deepness of his kiss and how it intensified with each second. He had put all his emotions into it, his care, his appreciation, his want, his sadness, his grief, his love.

When he pulled away and the two of you stood there staring at each other with love stricken eyes, he realized he had made a grave mistake.

He realized he was in love with you. He realized that he would never be able to let you go, and you would never let him go. And he knew that with the direction his life was going in, one way or another, you would get hurt and he would lose you, maybe even to death itself.

So in that moment he knew. As much as he loved you and wanted more than anything to be with you, he couldn’t put you in that position where you would be staring evil and death in the face. He wouldn’t tarnish your beautiful soul like that.

“I have to go,” he breathed out. “Please, leave me alone. For good.”

And with that he turned away, leaving you standing under the tree with tears falling down your face, a sob escaping your throat and the sound of your knees hitting the grass below you. He held back his own cries and walked faster away from you, knowing you had finally done damage to yourself that you couldn’t heal, and it was all his fault.

PART 2

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rebeccccccaaa · 4 years ago

Text

𝙊𝙣𝙡𝙮��𝙖𝙣𝙨.𝙘𝙤𝙢/𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙫𝙚 𝙍𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙎𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡

___________________________

sᴛᴇᴠᴇ ʀᴏɢᴇʀs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴘᴇᴛᴇʀ ᴘᴀʀᴋᴇʀ

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: (ANON) a part two of OnlyFans where Steve takes them up on their offer would be 🥵🤤

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: Smut 18+minors dni, threesome! (my first time writing one im scared), also it’s uh… it’s a lot. it’s probably the filthiest thing i’ve written; so out of my comfort zone so go easy

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: i got a lot of people in my inbox asking about a part two but holy shite balls ive never written something like this omggg i can’t believe it aviajbgvi8gahahaha, anyways plz don’t let this flop i worked really hard to write this and imma cry if it does

____________________________

Steve sat on the bed nervously. He had no idea what came over him agreeing to this.

“Are you ok?” you asked him softly as Peter set the camera up.

“Yeah, just out of my element; very out of my element.”

“You can always say no; at any time. Even after we film and take pictures, you decide that you don’t want this out there we’ll delete it right away. I promise,” you reassured.

“Thank you, but I want this. I don’t trust anyone more than you two to do this with.”

Peter looked up from the camera and smiled at you both; he wasn’t gonna lie, he was really excited when Steve came up to them saying he wanted to be a part of this. He was expecting you and Steve to do something together but when he asked Peter to also be a part of it he was very ecstatic and aroused about it.

“Ok,” you cupped his face.

“Well the camera’s ready if you want to start slow, maybe some pictures first?” Peter suggested.

“Sure, you’re the experts,” Steve shrugged.

“Ok, Pete, what should we do first?” you turned to your boyfriend.

“Well, maybe we can shoot some of just you guys, and then just me and you, and after all three of us,” he said standing behind the camera.

“Sounds like a plan,” you went up quickly to Peter and kissed before turning back to Steve holding a mischievous gleam in your eyes and made him feel wanton.

You slowly walked closer to Steve, your hands reaching for the tie that held your silk robe together and unveiled the most sexiest lingerie set that Steve’s ever laid his eyes on. His eyes could help themselves staring directly at your nearly exposed chest. You noted his inner battle to not reach out and touch without permission and Peter chuckled from behind.

“You can touch her, Steve. She doesn’t mind, do you princess?”

“Not at all,” you whispered sensually.

Steve reached out and pulled you close to his body. He sported simply a pair of black boxers and a black leather choker with a silver ring in the center. You curled your finger over the silver ring and pulled him closer to your face. Peter saw this as a great shot and the shutter of the camera alerted Steve pulling him out that momentary spell you have on him.

“It’s ok,” you whispered against his lips.

Steve swallowed audibly shoving his nerves down before bringing his large hands up your thighs. You smiled beautifully and teased him barely brushing your lips against Steve’s. As Peter continued snapping pictures, he was embarrassed to admit that he was growing hard at the sight of you teasing Steve; biting his lip having to remind himself to keep snapping pictures.

Steve was slowly getting the hang of things and trailed his hand up your front to wrap harshly around your throat. You giggled at the feeling making direct contact with the lens putting on, which wasn't hard at all, your sexist face before all three of you bursted into giggles.

“Too much?” Steve chuckled.

“No, it was perfect,” you giggled.

You took some more pictures; you sat between Steve’s legs looking innocently into the camera and you could see the visible tremble in Peter’s legs. Another was you sitting with your back against Steve’s chest, his lips pressing faintly to your skin and his hands wrapping around your body closely both looking into the camera seductively.

“These are fucking hot, guys. People are gonna lose their shit,” Peter told you guys.

“How ‘bout one more,” you winked at Peter.

You crawled over Steve straddling his waist and pressing your hands against his pecs. He leaned back on his elbow, his expression taken back yet aroused and excited. Peter watched carefully, his finger resting on the button to snap the perfect shot. You rubbed your nose along Steve’s and you could feel his breath quicken.

You pressed your lips against his and lightly grinded down on his crotch feeling his large member poking your center. Steve fluttered his eyes closed as his lips moved against yours softly moaning. You pulled away to find his cheeks reddened and his eyes blown out with lust. You crawled off but Steve pulled you back in already addicted to your taste.

“Alright hands off, it’s my turn,” Peter walked up, making you giggle.

Peter practically pounced on you once Steve stumbled his way to the camera; waddling from his raging erection.

“You look so fucking sexy; I haven’t gotten to tell you,” Peter whispered in your ear.

“Thank you; you still ok with this?” you asked him.

“Of course I am,” he grinned.

“I figured, considering you’re hard as a rock under these,” you pressed his erection firmly with your hand making his groan lowly and shifting his hips.

He kissed you ravishly and Steve snapped the shots quickly. He shifted from side to side attempting to take his mind off of his painfully boner but the sight you and Peter practically devouring each other’s mouths was incredibly arousing.

Peter’s hand cupped your breasts squeezing the flesh softly pulling soft barely audible moans from you. Peter laid you down on the bed and kissed down your body softly looking sensually at the camera. You arched your back and pointed your toes for effect but that didn’t take away from how Peter’s lips felt so good against your burning skin.

“Hey Stevie,” Peter practically purred.

“Why don’t you start recording and come help me please our little princess,” Peter’s words made your skin break into chills.

Steve practically skipped to the bed after pressing record and you made little grabby hands to pull him into a kiss. He came over your head and pressed his lips against yours placing his hand on your breast while Peter’s resting on your other one. Your lips tasted so sweet and they felt so velvety Steve could spend eternity against your lips and not complain.

“Fucking hell, so pretty,” Steve whispered.

Peter’s one goddamn lucky kid, he thought.

He lifted you by your shoulders and sat behind you as Peter continued to kiss down your legs pulling your panties down your legs. Steve rubbed your arms softly before circling your waist and nuzzling his face in your neck.

As Steve pressed kisses to your neck Peter pressed kisses to your inner thighs and you could do was breathe heavily and indulge in the attention. Peter slowly licked from the bottom of your entrance grazing your clit with his tongue and you tossed your head back on Steve fluttering your eyes closed. Steve’s hand moved up to wrap firmly around your throat and nibbled on your ear.

“Look at him baby girl. I want you to look at him as he makes you fall apart,” Steve said, his voice laced with lust and domination making you whimper pathetically.

“You sound so fucking pretty for daddy, don’t you,” Steve spoke smoothly; you hadn’t thought of him much of a talker, let alone any other kinks and honestly it make your knees weak.

Peter on the other hand, was having way too much fun. He brought his fingers and circled them teasing you just a bit. You always made the prettiest whines when he did and he knew your viewers loved it too.

Painstakingly slow, he pumped his fingers in and out of you and sucked harshly on your clit making you squirm and wiggle under him. It took him a while but he realized your moans and cries sounded muffled and when he flashed his eyes open he saw Steve’s thick fingers in your mouth as you sucked on them lewdly.

Your eyes were still trained on Peter and he moaned against your core; the vibrations stimulating you more, tightening your muscles and tears brimming your eyes. Your toes curled and your legs squeezed Peter’s head but he didn’t stop his assault on your core. Your legs started shaking and you could hear Steve’s dark chuckled low in your ear. He took his fingers out from your mouth and you practically screamed from the overstimulation. You pushed Peter off you, tears falling down your cheeks. There was a prominent wet spot left on the silk red sheets and Peter’s chin and mouth were covered in your arousal.

“Come here, handsome,” Steve reached for the back of Peter’s neck and kissed him sloppily, tasting you on his lips; both moaning in arousal. You could feel Steve’s sizable erection poking your back firmly as you stared up to the boys who kissed beautifully. You felt yourself calm down a bit and Peter and Steve pulled away before Peter attached his lips to yours.

“Holy shit,” you said, making the boys chuckle breathlessly.

“You did good, baby. But I think you can do more yeah? You gonna be a good girl for daddy?”

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“Yes, what?” Peter said, pulling your bottom lip from your teeth with his thumb.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl.”

You leaned forward again pressing a brief and chaste kiss to your boyfriend. You rubbed your hands all over his chest and whined like a brat before you felt Steve’s hand strike your cheek suddenly. You and Peter never dove into the spanking territory so it caught both of you by surprise; a good surprise though.

“Hey Petey, you gonna let daddy fuck your little girlfriend? I’m dying to feel how good this pussy feels.”

“She’s perfect,” Peter said looking lovingly into your eyes. You smiled shyly at him and felt yourself grow bashful at the compliment. You peered behind you quickly shooting Steve a wink before you wiggled your ass. Steve chuckled, smacking your ass playfully making you gasp before giggling.

He pushed his boxers down and gripped his aching cock desperate for attention. You felt his tip brushing against your hole and you whimpered clenching around nothing. You scratched your nails over Peter’s abs, digging harshly when Steve pushed himself past your folds.

Although Peter was already big and you loved it so very much, Steve did feel substantially bigger; almost too much. You hissed, breathing sharply through gritted teeth and Steve rubbed his hands gently over your back. Peter also soothed you pressing soft kisses to your cheeks and whispering praises.

“You’re taking him so well baby.”

“Such a pretty girl, aren’t cha.”

“You look so fucking sexy, princess.”

“Fuck,” you cried.

You practically clawed at Peter’s boxers pulling his dick out. You wrapped your hand around it and pumped up and down his shaft pulling quiet grunts and sighs of pleasure. You leaned down finally wrapping your lips around the tip of Peter’s aching cock making toss his head back in pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re sucking my cock so good baby,” Peter rubbed your head softly.

You moaned softly around him resting your hands on his thighs. Steve continued his languid thrusts in you pulling soft moans from you that stimulated Peter even more bringing him closer to his release. Steve’s pace sped up little by little until his thrusts became sloppy and wild practically jostling you around like a rag doll.

“Holy shit, Pete. Your girl feels amazing.”

“She really does; my little angel,” your stomach fluttered at the compliments.

“She’s so warm, and wet. God, such a perfect little pussy,” Steve smacked your ass making you shudder under his touch and moaned around Peter’s dick.

Peter’s legs began to shake and not long after you felt the hot ribbons of cum spurting down your throat. You released his dick with a pop before pressing lights kisses to Peter’s tip and down his shaft to his hips. You look seductively at Peter who carried a blissed expression but your own expression didn’t last long.

Steve grabbed your hair harshly pulling you up flush against his front. Peter chased you, standing to his knees in front you pressing kisses and nipping at the skin along your collarbones. He snaked his hand down and swiftly circled your clit making you scream.

“Fuck!”

Sweat lined your forehead lightly and you breathed unbelievably heavily; whimpering pathetically in both their arms. Steve groaned lowly in your ear, chasing his orgasm as yours approached quickly too. He whispered obscene things in your that only you and Peter could hear, almost like he wanted that to be your little dirty secret.

Eventually, your body spasmed between two bodies and you damned near screamed in pleasure. Stars clouded your vision and your eyes rolled back from euphoria. Your back arched pressed your hardened nipples against Peter's chest.

“Come on, princess; one more,” Steve grumbled. He quickly tore his boxers off his body as did Peter hardly giving you time to recover from your shattering high.

“I can’t,” you whimpered.

“Yes, you can, pretty girl. I know you can. You’ve been doing such a good job for me and Stevie,” Peter soothed.

Your knees rested on either side of Steve thighs; your back against his chest as you faced Peter. Steve pumped his cock quickly circled it around your tight hole making you shiver with anticipation. Peter wedged his legs between yours and Steve somehow before lining his own dick with your folds.

You felt Steve’s hands resting on your hips and Peter’s on your waist right above Steve’s. They peppered skins and whispered praises to you waiting for you to give them some kind of signal that you were ready.

This was completely new territory to you and you didn’t really prepare much prior to now. You steady your breathing and relaxed against the bodies that pressed softly against you. You briefly nodded your head and Peter pushed himself into you knowing you could at least handle him like you have hundreds of times before.

This was of course very familiar to you. You and Peter had sex many, many times and you love the familiar feeling. His cock stretching you out just right, the pressure already building with how big he was. But when it was Steve’s turn, your body instinctively tensed.

“Relax, princess. I gotcha, I’m gonna make you feel so good,” Steve nibbled on your ear.

“I know,” you bit your lip.

Peter pressed his forehead against yours and whispered softly so only you and Steve could hear his voice.

“You can always tap out and we’ll edit the video, ok? Your comfort and pleasure is most important to us.”

“Yes, I’d hate myself if I were to hurt you,” Steve whispered too.

“Ok, I’m ok.”

Steve undid your bra that you still wore and Peter tossed to the side. Steve kissed between your shoulder blades cupping your breasts from behind; he played with your nipples, pinching and twisting your perked buds. He gathered the slick that oozed from you and his own precum circling your puckered hole. He slowly pushed in making you gasp and hiss sharply. Peter kissed you softly and as Steve slowly bottomed out.

The two boys stayed still as you adjusted to the extremely new feeling. Your stomach fluttered from nerves but also arousal. You eventually couldn't take the stillness and whimpered, begging for someone to move.

Steve and Peter moved in rhythm with one another and you moaned loudly feeling overwhelmed with pleasure. Your bit your lip harshly; probably enough to draw blood. You were beginning to feel tired at this point but the pleasure building in your stomach felt like none other.

“Feel so fucking good, princess. So tight,” Steve mumbled.

“Feels so good, daddy,” you moaned.

“Yeah? You like daddy’s cock fucking that tight hole?” Peter mocked.

“Yes! Ugh!” you cried out.

“How she feel, Steve?” Peter asked.

“Fucking perfect,” he breathed out. Steve leaned over your shoulder to press his lips briefly to Peter and you watched closely with pure adoration for the boys. That quickly subsided when Steve and Peter shifted your hips slightly hitting new angles making you moan loudly again.

You moved like a ragdoll becoming exhausted, whimpering and whining. Steve groaned loudly biting your shoulder and Peter crashed his lips against yours. Everything became sloppy and messy. The sound of skin slapping against each other echoed in the room. The pleasure was too distracting; all three of you forgot about the camera.

“Fucking shit, I’m gonna cum! Fuck!” you squeaked.

“Let go, baby girl. Cum all over Pete’s cock,” Steve practically growled in your ear.

Tears brimmed your eyes and you suddenly became hyper aware of everything at once. The feeling of fours hands rubbing everywhere all over your body just right. Both cocks stretch you perfectly drastically and you feel like you were being split in half. The delicious feeling of both their lips trailing your hot skin. It was all enough to push you, no throw you off the edge.

Your orgasm ripped through you and you shook between their bodies. The boys grunted and with closed eyes rutted their hips in you one last time simultaneously, coating your walls in their hot white cum.

You looked lazily into the camera before smiling tiredly and relaxing completely in the boys’ arms. They breathed against your skin heavily, desperately catching their breaths. You brushed your fingers through Peter’s hair, lightly scratching his scalp. Your other hand traced small shapes into Steve’s hips behind you, bringing goosebumps to his skin.

Eventually, after what felt like hours, Peter removed himself slowly from you and turned the camera off swiftly.

“I think that was a great shot,” he said, tiredly making you and Steve chuckle.

“Take care of our princess; I’m gonna get some things to clean up. And you, just rest. You did so amazing,” Peter kissed you before disappearing into the bathroom.

Steve’s hands ran over your skin softly before carefully lifting your tired body off of him. He moved extremely slowly, extra careful pulling himself out to not hurt you although you hissed from the soreness that was already apparent in your body.

He flipped you delicately so you rested on your back and he pressed soft kisses all over you making you giggle and squirm a bit under him. Peter came out and picked you up bridal style to carry to you to the bathroom where he ran a bath for you; something he always did after a recording. Steve was preparing to leave with a waddle in his step when Peter stopped him.

“Don’t leave before she gets out. Here, help me with the bed and putting things away.”

They quickly put their boxers on and Peter put the camera away, setting it on the desk for later. He ran to the closet as Steve removed the sheets placing them in the laundry basket by the closet. He helped Peter change the sheets to a light color that was a complete contrast to what was there before. It was definitely more fitting for you and Peter though.

You bathed yourself basking in the afterglow of the most amazing sex you’ve ever experienced. If you were being honest with yourself, you really hoped that Peter and Steve would be up to the idea of doing this again, even without a camera or for anyone. You’ve always thought of Steve as a very attractive and amazing person; someone that you and Peter often gushed over together.

You couldn’t bother to think about it anymore as the tiredness was becoming too much; unable to think much about anything but a comfy warm bed. You struggled to get yourself out from the tub wary that Peter would scold for doing so but whatever. You wrapped yourself in a warm robe that Peter left for you and walked slowly to the doorway watching Peter and Steve practically giggling like teenagers as they changed the sheets.

“I thought I told you you were supposed to wait for me to help you. What if you got hurt getting out? You could’ve slipped.”

“I’m sorry,” you pouted, walking over to Peter who just couldn’t be mad at you.

“You ready to sleep baby?” he asked you, and you nodded.

You undid your robe opting to stay nude tonight. You noticed Steve wasn’t joining you in bed and seemed like he felt out of place.

“You want to stay here tonight?”

“I don’t want disturb-”

“You’re not,” you interrupted, making grabby hands at him. He smiled softly before climbing in bed with you and you snuggled between both of your boys.

“Thank you, Stevie,” you pressed your lips to his before finally shutting your tired eyes.

Steve and Peter held you closely between them tracing patterns onto your silky skin. Steve kept his eyes trained to the ceiling and he could tell that Peter wasn’t asleep yet.

“So, when’s the video gonna come out?” he asked quietly.

“Well, usually we take the night to recover but after just now we might need a couple days,” Peter chuckled as did Steve.

“But then, we’ll edit the pictures all week and the video or videos. And after a couple weeks of promotion and letting people know about the upcoming release, we publish and let the money rack up. If you want we can give you fifty of the profit we make from this. It really means a lot that you did this for us,” Peter turned to look at Steve.

“It’s nothing. Was something I wanted to try being in this new century and all; you guys gave me the perfect opportunity and wouldn’t have trusted anyone else,” Steve said sincerely.

“You know, we wouldn’t say no if you wanted to keep doing this. Without the camera, you know?” Peter said shyly.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your guys’ relationship. Besides, I’m an old man. You guys don’t want that,” Steve chuckled.

“Nothing about what we just did says old man; you’re far from that. And like you said it's the new century, but if it’s not something you want we respect that.”

“And if it is?”

“Well, then we can talk tomorrow morning; I’m more than sure this one isn’t gonna mind not one bit. She never stops talking about you, granted neither do I but-”

“You two talk about me?” Steve smirked.

“Uh- maybe once or twice,” Peter stuttered, suddenly feeling shy.

“What do you two talk about?” Steve teased.

“Fuck off, man,” Peter defended making him chuckle.

“Goodnight, Peter,” Steve said, reaching over to intertwine his fingers with Peter’s.

“Goodnight, Steve.”

================================

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)

@mathletemadison

@buckybarnes101

@l-sofiamia-l

@pluto-grl

@partr1dge

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #peter parker #peter parker smut #aged!up peter parker #peter parker x reader #steve rogers x reader x peter parker #marvel smut #marvel fics

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stuckwith-harry · 3 years ago

Text

cried out to you alone

“It becomes a part of who you are”, Harry says, some sort of clarity coming to him. “Death, I mean. Grief. It doesn’t have to swallow you whole, but there is a little bit of it in every part of you.”

Impossible, is the only thing Harry can stand to think. That there is still sunlight in the world after everything.

Still, it pours out over the Burrow’s kitchen table in bright, luminous yellow, warming the veined wood. Harry and the Weasleys watch it creep over the tabletop, sitting elbow-to-elbow. Molly and Arthur are touching shoulders and brushing through hair as they pass around steaming mugs of tea, as they pour milk and stir in spoonfuls of sugar, the bags under their eyes swollen and purple like figs.

When Harry tries to open his mouth, to offer help, Molly quickly shakes her head at him; pleading. Like she wouldn’t know what else to do with herself.

So Harry stays, cramped between George and Ginny, and lets her place her palm on his back as she places his tea in front of him. Through the open window, a sweet-smelling breeze comes pouring in, the smell of warm soil and flowers and summer rapidly approaching, which seems impossible, too.

Tomorrow morning, they’re going to get out of bed and make breakfast. They’re going to feed the chicken in the yard, do the dishes and read the newspaper. Still, the sun is going to come up.

For a moment, he catches Ron’s gaze; Ron, whose face is oddly contorted and whose eyes are glassy and bright red. Harry can’t bear the sight of it: he stares at the old mug in his hands, examining the faded red dots, hand-painted. Anything that soothes.

Poppies, he realises. On the inside, near a chip at the rim, he can make out the small letters spelling out Ottery St. Catchpole, and below that, half-drowning in sweet tea: Flea Market, 1988.

A memory, then. One he wasn’t a part of, but one he can envision, anyway, the bright red summer day, the bustling and shuffling of the little village, the shrieking of children, strawberry ice cream rapidly melting and dripping on bare knees; a younger, happier Ron –

The scraping of a chair yanks him back, as Ginny abruptly gets to her feet and walks out without a word. No one tries to stop her, and the small, pathetic sound of her bedroom door closing from atop the stairs sounds down to them as though she slammed it.

After that, only silence. No pots stir in the kitchen sink, no footsteps thunder from several floors above, and no chatter, no yelling, no laughter holds the walls of the house together. No explosions sound from the twins’ room.

Death is an awfully quiet affair.

One by one, as the stripes on the tabletop grow long and orange, the Weasleys crawl into their hiding places. Harry knows he’s intruding, so he wanders outside, following the soft clucking of the chicken pecking away at the dirt behind their wooden fence, the only things alive and making a sound.

The solitude is a relief: he has never wished to flee the walls of the Burrow so desperately, only stayed long enough to change out of the black funeral robes and into an old Quidditch jumper. Then he pushed Ron’s bedroom door open far enough to slip out and disappear, and mercifully, Ron didn’t try to stop him, either.

The jumper is Ron’s, technically. It feels like being held, Gryffindor red and worn and entirely too large for Harry. Somehow that only makes him feel worse.

The Weasleys did not hesitate to take him home with them after the battle, because that was their way. They put up the old camp bed in Ron’s violently orange bedroom like they always had, and Ron silently handed him a pile of hand-me-downs so Harry would have something to wear other than the clothes that still reeked of the tent, of sweat and of blood.

Harry props his elbows up on the weathered fence and buries his face in the soft sleeves, breathing deeply. For a while, he simply listens as the hens, who do not know or care about anything, cluck away happily, as the urge to slip under the invisibility cloak, to disappear and never make a sound again, keeps on rushing over him.

“Hi.”

His heart jumps painfully into his throat at the quiet greeting and the sound of footsteps on dry grass that preceded it, and when he turns around to face it, he’s looking at Ginny. She’s changed out of her black dress robes, too, back into worn-out denim dungarees and a striped t-shirt. Scarlet and yellow. Her hair has come out of the braid from earlier and falls wildly to her collarbones again, no longer to her belly button, like it used to.

“I couldn’t stand the silence anymore”, she says, voice oddly throaty.

Harry wants to say, you don’t have to explain, but before he can, she pushes out: “And then I was in my room and it was just as fucking quiet, and I just – I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

She looks older, Harry thinks wildly. He hasn’t let himself look at her, not really, doesn’t even know why, just that he’s been avoiding her most of all. Ever since May 2nd, the quiet between them has stretched and stretched over miles and oceans and continents of wasteland. Harry knows it’s his fault, that he should say something, but he has no words, no words at all.

The first morning after the battle, when he came stumbling into the common room and found her there, they just held each other, and he had no words then, either. There was sunlight there, too, he remembers suddenly, poking through the shattered windows and lighting up every particle of dust floating around the empty room.

“Can we go somewhere else?”, she asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Anywhere else?”

Harry nods, mouth dry. For a moment, her eyes seem to linger on him, but then she turns away without another word, and he follows her lead without question or objection. They don’t speak again until they reach the old broomshed, and Ginny suddenly turns to look at him again, face unreadable.

“Any chance you wanna go for a fly?”

“Wh-What?”

She shrugs. “Do you?”

It’s a strange time capsule, the shed. Ginny pushes the wooden door open and sends flurries of dust into the air, catching sunlight; Harry, who is standing behind her, catches a glimpse of Arthur’s old Muggle trinkets and the old brooms lined up against the wall. Ron and Ginny’s are closest to the door; the twins’ brooms are up on a shelf opposite the square window.

For a moment, Ginny is perfectly still, and Harry knows she is looking at them, too. Then she reaches for her broom and silently pushes past him. Harry grabs Ron’s and closes the door of the shed behind him, and together they wander away from the Burrow, over the hills that surround it, where wild poppies are peeking through the unkempt grass and weeds.

Harry thinks he knows where she’s going: their makeshift Quidditch pitch hidden between gnarly old trees from summers long lost, where they used to chuck apples and tennis balls at each other, during all those afternoons spent playing Quidditch two against two.

Tall, sweet-smelling yarrow brushes along their bare shins as they walk, and pink clover, the soft heads bending back to the earth under the weight of bumblebees passing by, thick dandelion leaves spread all across the ground amidst the weeds; and everywhere poppies, peeking through the tall grass, the paper-thin petals fluttering in the breeze.

Tucked behind another hill, Harry remembers, a few minutes on foot further north, is the lake where they whiled away happier summer afternoons than this. The image comes to his mind in bright, sunny colours, Ginny’s wide, toothy grin as she sneaks up on Ron, the thundering splash and Hermione’s piercing shriek, and Ron, emerging, spluttering and yelling, his sopping hair plastered to his face.

But that was centuries ago, and their full-bellied laughter seems miles and countries away already. Here, only silence. Harry wants to ask, are you okay?, or say, it’s going to be alright, but what good would it do?

The poppies are early: they’re not supposed to bloom for another month. There’s no end to them, no matter how far they walk, a sea of red stretching out all over the soft hills. Harry can’t tear his eyes away until the first beech trees they used to climb, black pines and yews throw cool shadows over their heads.

Strange, that it looks the same. The leaves up above their heads rustle softly as they mount their brooms, and Ginny shoots into the air, a quiet cannon. For the better part of an hour, they zoom in circles through the rapidly cooling air, chucking an old Quaffle back and forth at each other. Ginny’s throws are hard and unrelenting: they’re not keeping score, but she’s playing like it’s the last game of the season, like the House Cup depends on it, so Harry lets her exhaust herself. By the time they sink back to the ground, the sky over the meadow is dotted in shades of pink and red.

Ginny hits the ground with such force her knees buckle under the impact and hit the dry grass. Harry gasps, but she is already getting up again, brushing off the dirt without comment.

They find a spot at the outer edge of the pitch and slump into the tall grass with their backs leaning against an oak tree, where they can see the sunset falling on the soft hills and the Burrow in the distance, bright red like poppies. Ginny’s hands are uselessly holding her ribs, her warm eyes staring off into nothing.

“Feel any better?”, Harry asks after a while.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

She shifts next to him, tucking her scraped knees to her chest. They look like she’s spent all summer climbing trees and rolling down the grassy hills around the Burrow and crashing her broomstick into her brothers in a spectacular grab for the Quaffle.

“At least I feel a little less like I was buried with him”, she mutters.

I’m sorry, Harry wants to say, but that seems useless, too.

“I wanted to leave, too”, he says finally. “It was so quiet in there.”

“I hate it”, Ginny says softly. “It doesn’t feel anything like home when it’s like this.”

“I’m sorry”, he says despite himself, for what feels like the thousandth time since everything. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Ginny's brows furrow slightly, as if to say, yes, you should. “If you weren’t, I’d still be shut up in my room right now. Going mad, probably.”

After a short pause, she adds: “I wouldn’t know who to talk to.”

It strikes Harry like lightning: she was looking for him.

She looks over at him as though searching for something. Her brown eyes glow golden in the warm light, like honey, her whole face painted in reds and oranges and pinks.

“How do you do it?”, she asks finally, voice quiet, but steady, as the soft breeze continues to rush through the trees. “How do you lose everyone you’ve lost – and go on living? How do you live with the dead?”

Harry looks at her, the way she sits cross-legged and hunched over in the grass next to him, arms hugged to herself, and it sinks in, what she’s searching for, what she’s asking of him.

“It’s not the same”, he says softly.

She scoffs quietly. “How is that not the same?”

Harry looks around their hiding place. Maybe it’s the creaking of old branches around them, almost a murmur, the smell of the trees, that brings them back: his parents in the Forbidden Forest, walking towards him, Sirius’ bright grin, Dumbledore at King’s Cross Station.

The thought of them cuts through him, every beat of his heart sharp and stinging as they remain dead and he does not.

“Your speech”, he says finally, and watches her jaw clench. “I couldn’t have said anything like that about my parents – or Sirius …”

“I can’t believe I wrote him a fucking eulogy”, Ginny mutters, staring at the weeds to her feet, the patches of moss creeping across the earth under the wild, entangled grass. “It makes it feel so fucking final.”

“You did really well”, Harry says. “It was beautiful.”

She merely shrugs, and he doesn’t blame her.

“I’m glad I got to say something, I think”, she says after another stretch of silence. “But, Merlin, he was walking and talking and making jokes just a week ago, and now he’s six feet underground and I’ve written a double-sided page on how sorely he’ll be missed.”

She wipes her nose on the back of her sleeve.

“Up until today, I really thought he might jump up and laugh it off and make fun of us for falling for it.”

You made it feel like that today, he wants to say, but doesn’t.

“I’m so sorry, Ginny.”

She read it out with a completely steady voice, both fists clutching the slip of paper in her hand. She did not bother to find a silver lining this time, or to look for meaning at all; but every word seemed to bring Fred back to life a little, even earning a few teary chuckles from the other Weasleys. Every anecdote and every prank she recounted was a testament to the fact that Fred Weasley had been alive, that he had mattered, that he had left an impact on her, on all of them.

“You know my Mum had brothers”, Ginny says suddenly, looking over at Harry’s hands. “Fabian and Gideon Prewett.”

She points, and Harry realises what she’s really looking at: Fabian Prewett’s battered old watch on his arm.

“They died in the first war. Bill, Charlie and Percy say they remember them a little, but the rest of us just grew up hearing stories.”

She picks at the shallow wound on her knee, where droplets of bright red blood have pushed to the surface through the cracks in her freckled skin. “It’s why Fred and George are named after them. A little bit, anyway – you know, Fred and George … Fabian and Gideon … Mum was pregnant when they died.”

Harry swallows. “I didn’t know.”

Ginny smiles sadly. “I liked the idea that they got to live on in the twins a little. I never thought to ask Fred and George how they felt about it, actually. I can’t imagine … how Mum feels.”

Harry watches her wrap her arms around her legs, watches the strawberry blond hairs on her shins stand on end as the air cools around them. She looks tired, but her eyes are dry.

“I never made that connection”, he says softly.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you”, she says. “It seemed important.”

Even over the rustling of the trees, the chirping and creaking all around them, he can hear her clearly, her voice steady, unwavering.

“Do you miss him?”

“Yes.”

She looks around at him. “Do you not miss your parents?”

“I don’t know how”, Harry mutters. “Your speech … it was full of memories.”

She doesn’t respond, understanding silently. Then: “What about Sirius?”

Harry shrugs. “He never really got to be my godfather, did he? Not the way he was supposed to, anyway … there wasn’t time. And I don’t remember when my parents were alive – I’ve never known anything else.”

He looks at her, the way she’s quietly watching. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you were hoping to hear.”

Ginny dismisses it with a half-hearted gesture, lost in thoughts somewhere else.

“Do you think grieving someone is the same thing as missing them, then?”

“No … do you?”

She seems to consider it for a moment, then shakes her head.

“I just – I just want to talk to him and tell him what’s going on, and I think about how long it’s been since I’ve talked to him and how much I wish he were here and how I’m not gonna get to talk to him –”

She pauses mid-sentence, as though looking for words, and doesn’t find any.

“And then I think about the fact that he’s dead. That his life is over. And that I helped bury him today. And they’re both – awful, but it’s different, I guess.”

Harry nods, more to himself than to Ginny this time.

“And now, I just – I need to know what to do. So it doesn’t swallow me whole.”

Harry is still watching them walk towards him before his inner eye, his parents in the Forbidden Forest, his mother’s hungry face.

“I forget, sometimes”, he says. “For a moment, I think I forget they’re gone. Or I’m – I don’t know, distracted, and I’m not thinking about it – it slips away, and then it hits me again.”

Ginny’s teeth dig into her bottom lip. “I … honestly can’t fathom it right now.”

Harry looks over at her, the way she sits next to him, curled into herself, her hands still uselessly holding her ribs. Like it is physically hurting her.

“I dunno. Maybe forgetting is the wrong word. But when it happens, it always feels like it’s happening to someone else, like I am someone else.”

Ginny watches him intently as he stumbles to the end of his sentence: it feels pathetic already, having said it out loud like that.

“Like you are who you would’ve been if they hadn’t died?”, she asks, in that quietly remarkable way of hers, where she doesn’t treat him like something delicate, but she doesn’t ask for more than he can give, either.

“Yeah, I reckon. But I don’t recognise him at all.”

Ginny hums in understanding. She leans back against the bark of the tree and pulls her knees to herself again. “You would’ve been happier, anyway.”

Harry turns away at that, suddenly not trusting himself to speak.

“I know it doesn’t make sense or anything –”

“No, it does, Harry.”

“I mean, I know they couldn’t have lived. Everything would have to be different. We probably wouldn’t be here.”

Ginny sits in silence for a while.

“Do you ever wonder?”, she asks finally. “What you would’ve been like?”

“I guess … more like them. In ways I can recognise, anyway.”

He gestures helplessly at nothing, and Ginny takes that as a sign to push no further.

“I don’t recognise Ginny a week ago, either”, he hears her say, and the muffled sound of her voice tells him she’s wiping her nose on her sleeve again. “Every time something terrible happened, I guess I didn’t. It’s like remembering an old friend. One whose address you lost or something.”

“Cheery”, Ginny says in a hollow voice.

“It gets less all-consuming”, he says softly.

“Good”, she mutters. “Right now it’s pretty fucking all-consuming. It’s there when I wake up in the morning, and it’s – in my tea, and on all my clothes, and it’s in everyone I talk to and everything I say.”

Harry stares at the sky overhead, the red rapidly paling. Still, there is that whispering in the treetops, the feeling of being transported back into the Forbidden Forest. Still, his parents, reaching out for him.

“I’m sorry”, he says truthfully. “That’s all I’ve got.”

Ginny shakes her head. “It’s all I needed.”

He watches her tug at a poppy near her feet, struck by how long he’s managed to stay away from her, when her company is so comforting. The resolution comes to him all on its own, that he’s going to tell her everything. The Forbidden Forest. King’s Cross Station.

“Do you want to head back yet?”

Ginny looks at him, and she seems calmer somehow. For the first time since they got here, she doesn’t seem to be searching for anything – just looking.

“In a little while”, she says.

Harry looks back at her, really looks at her, and for a long time, neither of them speak, having arrived at some quiet understanding. Still, there’s a murmur in the trees around them, but they pay it no mind, and they don’t turn to look.

#i never posted it in obnoxious long text post form so :-)#here we are.#hinny #hp #fanfiction #cried out

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harrysweasleys · 4 years ago

Text

caught in the act // f.w

summary: how do you feel about writing a request for professor!fred and professor!reader bantering like cRaZy at hogwarts a few years after graduation and things just ~happen~ between them both? like maybe they try to one up each other all the time or they just dislike one another OR they're secretly dating but try to hide it from the students but the students know anyway? i don't even care what it is, i just desperately need professor fred k love u BYE

warnings: flirty and steamy, mentions of food

word count: 3.7k

a/n: OK so this idea was stemmed from a very long chat between me, @ickle-ronniekins and @wand3ringr0s3 and it has finally been brought to life! this was so much fun to write and i really hope you all enjoy :) [i do not give consent for my work to be reposted on any platform.]

———————————————————————

The familiar echo of the Hogwarts bell never failed to make you jump out of your skin. Especially when you were currently eyeing a class full of students in eerie silence, broken only by the occasional drop of a quill. Their practice exam required lack of noise to the point where you swore you could hear the movements of your ribs as you inhaled and exhaled.

The ringing sound echoed throughout the class for a short moment, the students in front of you all placing their quills down and forming a line towards your desk, their parchment in hand and some of their faces rather sullen. It was only a practice exam, but the real deal was coming up in a few weeks and revisions were taking up a majority of their free time. You couldn’t tell if their expressions were from the work they just did or from the lack of sleep.

You remembered your exam days at Hogwarts. Long, dreary nights in the common room by the fire until the sun came up, your eyes burning out of your scalp from reading scribbles and notes all night long. Those really were the days, weren’t they?

“I don’t think I did so well, Professor,” one of your students, a fourth year Hufflepuff, said with a defeated tone to his voice, “I couldn’t remember the proper spell.”

You had found it rather odd that for a Charms class, the students had to do a written practice exam. It wasn’t your decision — but you surely questioned it.

“It’s alright, Edwards,” you grinned back, “It’s not the final thing. This will only prepare you for the one you take in two weeks. Remember, that one is a performance exam. If you’ve got your wand movements down, you’ll be all set.”

The boy nodded, no trace of a smile on his face as he turned away and trudged out of the class, his overly heavy backpack hanging off of his shoulder.

A frown formed on your lips as the next student walked towards your desk, a confident smile on her face as she handed you her exam paper, “Have a good day, Professor!”

You were about to wish her a good day in return, but a figure by the door caught your attention instead.

Fred Weasley — or, rather, known to his students as Professor Weasley — stood with his hands in his pockets, his button up shirt tucked tightly into his slacks. His hair was short, standing up and looking soft as ever.

He shot you a quick wink, causing you to shake your head with a small laugh before you returned to collecting exams. You couldn’t give away that you were, indeed, dating a fellow professor. You were sure, due to the countless times you’ve popped in and out of each other’s classes, that some of them were suspicious. But you could hardly think about that too much without getting paranoid.

Your students filed out of the classroom one by one, each of them excited to finally be on lunch break. You could hear a few of them mutter a quick ‘good afternoon, Professor Weasley’ as they passed by him in the doorway, none of them striking any sort of conversation, much to your pleasure.

“And what can I help you with?” you grinned, standing up from your chair and placing a clip around the stack of papers, sitting them down in the corner of your desk so you could remember to take them with you and look at them in your office later in the evening. You much preferred to do your grading and marking at night — you felt much more ‘in the zone,’ so to speak.

He walked over to you, hands still in his pockets, “What? Can’t pay my girl a visit during breaks?”

You scoffed, taking out a large stack of paper from your desk drawer and preparing for the class of sixth years you had after your break. Fred was inching closer to you with each passing second, taking strides with his long legs as if time was running out and he was trying to get to you as soon as possible without running. You stifled a laugh at his movements.

“Considering no one knows I’m your girl, I’d say no,” you replied, giving him a small smirk, “We don’t want to get caught like last time do we?”

You mentally cringed, thinking back to when fellow professor Neville Longbottom caught you and Fred at the Hogwarts staff Christmas party, your bodies nearly flushed to each other and his head dipping down to whisper in your ear. That might not be a giveaway, but considering the nature of Fred’s words and the way your eyes grew wide as you gave him a slap across the chest, it was a bit of a statement. Neville had asked you that night if anything was going on between you two, to which you replied ‘it’s late, I need to leave.’

“Well, it would be a shame for the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher to be dating the Charms teacher,” he said, a fake grimace on his face, “You’re only the most brilliant person in this entire school. I would be so ashamed if people knew. The highest held Professor, me, dating you, the lowly Charms teacher — a tragedy, really.”

“Oh, excuse me,” you placed a hand over your chest, stepping closer to him and leaning against the edge of your desk, “A shame, you say? I’ll have you know people much prefer my class to yours, anyways. Actually, just this morning, a group of Hufflepuffs told me they liked me best.”

The corner of his lip curved up into a smirk, leaning closer and wrapping his arms around your waist, his hips leaning against yours. You felt his hands slide lower down your back, giving your bottom a quick squeeze.

“Hands off, Freddie,” you poked him in the chest, “This relationship has now become a competition.”

He pursed his lips, “Well, can the academic competition start tomorrow after we perform the, to kindly put it, physical competition in my room tonight.”

You slid away from him, shaking your head, “You are unbelievable.”

“Well, believe it, love,” even though you weren’t facing him, you could hear the smirk in his voice, “This is all yours.”

“Uh, Professor Y/L/N?”

You spun on the spot, colour draining completely from your face. You heard Fred let out an awkward cough, facing the doorway where someone now stood. One of the students from your previous class was standing awkwardly, books in her arms and a confused look on her face.

“Oh, hello, Miss Myers,” you sighed, running a hand down your face, “Professor Weasley, do you mind giving us a moment?” Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, and the temperature in the room was now a million degrees warmer than it previously was.

Fred grumbled a quick ‘of course,’ and made his way out of the room, turning to give you a wide-eyed expression before closing the door behind him. You let out a deep sigh, falling back into your chair, tossing your hair over your shoulder and looking over at your student.

“Did I interrupt something?” she asked, clearly fighting a grin.

You waved your hand, “No! No,” you tried your best to act nonchalant, letting your student take a seat in front of you, “So, what can I help you with?”

She began expressing her worries for the upcoming exam, all the while you tried giving her the best tips and advice on how to study her charms carefully and safely. You couldn’t count the number of times students had tried their spells outside of the class and had something go horribly wrong. No one wanted to deal with that again.

Though, you kept wondering what she meant by ‘interrupting something.’

You knew that she didn’t mean it in an accusatory manner — you weren’t all cozied up to Fred when she walked in. She couldn’t have seen anything, could she? Even if she did, who would she tell? Headmistress McGonagall was well aware of your relationship with Fred. But she was the only one who knew. You didn’t want to even think about the rumours that would spread if word broke out about your — to put it scandalously — affair.

You honestly weren’t sure what was holding you back from just announcing it. If McGonagall approved, what’s the worst that could happen?

“Thanks for the help, Professor,” Miss Myers’ voice cut your internal rambling short, causing you to shake your head.

“No problem, my door is always open,” you grinned, motioning your hand in the direction of the door. She gave you a bright grin and picked up her backpack, turning to give you a little wave before making her way out of the classroom, once again, the door shutting closed behind her.

A loud groan left your lips before you dropped your head, letting your forehead smack loudly against the hardwood surface.

———————————————————————

The next two weeks felt like a whirlwind. Not only was the end of term approaching as rapidly as ever, but because your fifth years were rushing towards you every hour of the day to prepare for their OWLs, you were feeling rather happy that you only had a few days left before you were out of here. A lot of them seemed to get the hang of their Charms abilities, but many of them still seemed to be a little off. You couldn’t blame them — fifth year was rough — but you really wanted them all to be successful and to pass. Many of your students wanted to go on and be Aurors. A passing Charms mark was kind of a necessity.

“So you’re alright with overlooking the exam?” the Headmistress asked, her pointy hat standing tall on her head as her emerald robes flowed loosely behind her, the two of you walking towards the Great Hall, “You won’t be alone, but I just wanted to double check.”

You grinned, “Of course, it would be my pleasure.”

The walk to the Hall wasn’t long, but you were feeling suddenly anxious. You had poured your heart and soul into the teaching that you had done this year — you only hoped it paid off enough. You didn’t want to disappoint or let your students down. This was the most important exam yet.

The Charms exam was tomorrow at noon, so you weren’t sure why your wand was in a knot just yet, but the anxious bubbles in your stomach hadn’t calmed down over the last few days, to be totally honest.

You walked into the silent Hall, no students present yet, and came to a halt as you spotted the redheaded man standing all the way on the other side.

“Oh, so you’re my ever so lovely companion this afternoon?” he grinned, standing up off of his chair and placing the stack of papers down on the table in front of him, his sweater clinging rightfully to his body and causing you to scan your eyes up and down his figure. He had a pen sticking out from behind his ear and you could see the pleased expression cross his face, even from the other side of the room.

“I suspect you two will behave,” McGonagall said from next to you, her eyes twinkling with some sort of amusement as she gazed between the two of you, eyebrows raised.

“When do I not behave, Minerva?” Fred asked cockily, shoving his hands into his pockets — which suddenly seemed to be a signature move for him. You weren’t really sure where it came from, but you weren’t complaining. It gave him some sort of authoritarian vibe, which was one of the many reasons you felt as if today might be a tough day.

Leaving you and Fred alone, McGonagall left the hall with a quick shake of her head, her little heels clacking loudly. You rolled your eyes, walking over to stand next to him. Even as you walked up the few stairs to the platform, Fred’s height towered over you and caused you to crane your neck up to look him in the eyes.

“Well, well, well,” he grinned, his hands finding their way to your lower back, sliding down so that they rested in the bum pockets of your jeans.

“Fred!” you squeaked, giving him a light slap across the bicep before pulling away, “We’ve almost been caught twice. Third time is definitely not the charm, here.”

He let out a low chuckle, his chest vibrating and his eyes crinkling in the corners. You loved the sight of him in a good mood, your heart doing a little flip in your chest as he ran a hand through his hair.

You couldn’t help yourself, leaning up onto your tip toes and pressing a light kiss to his lips, pulling away ever-so-quickly, reaching up and pulling the pen out from behind his ear in the process, putting it down on the little desk next to the chair he was previously seated in.

“Ha! Gotcha,” you grinned, using your index finger to tap his nose lightly.

“Oh, okay,” he nodded, hands immediately finding their way around your waist, “That’s not fair, love.”

His lips quickly found their way down to yours, warm and inviting as always. No matter how many times you kissed him, you never got tired of it. You still got the same amount of tingles and butterflies as you did the first time he kissed you. And that’s not something you ever imagined would change.

“Fred,” you mumbled against his lips, a low groan leaving his throat as you tried your best to wiggle out of his grasp. You could hear the voices of students down the corridor— they were bound to enter the Great Hall any second now. This was not the position you wanted them to see you two in.

“Fine, fine,” he mumbled, pulling away and rolling his eyes. His lips were red and his cheeks were slightly flushed, but he looked as dashing as ever. It was hard for him not to look like this, actually. Something in Fred Weasley’s blood just made him irresistible. You often felt like cursing him out, honestly.

Seconds later, the large door opened and the room was no longer silent. Fred shot you a quick wink, sending your heart into a fluttering frenzy, before you turned to face the oncoming group.

“Good morning!” you announced with a somehow steady voice, “Everyone find your seat so we can begin!”

It took a few minutes, but eventually the group each found their assigned desks and sat down, taking out their quills and parchment.

“You have two hours,” Fred clapped his hands together, echoing loudly throughout the room, “And the two of us will be here if you have any questions. The lovely Professor Y/L/N has volunteered to keep me company, probably because she finds me irresistible—” you rolled your eyes, “—but we’ll both answer any questions you have.”

You looked to the ground, hair falling into your face as you bit your tongue, holding back any snarky remarks towards your idiotic boyfriend. He really wasn’t helping the whole ‘lowkey’ aspect to your relationship.

“Does anyone have any questions before we start?” he asked, lifting his left arm to check the watch on his wrist. You finally peered back up, gazing over at the large clock that was sitting behind you. You immediately regretted not bringing a cup of tea or a snack, but the two hours were bound to fly by. This wasn’t your first time overlooking an exam period, and each time you’ve done this before, it’s never felt like it was dragging on.

“Good luck everyone!” you called out with a smile, clapping your hands together. They all began scribbling away as you finished your sentence, the scratching sound being the only noise you could hear as any previous chatter had now completely ceased.

You walked slowly over to Fred, your hands crossed over your chest as you raised an eyebrow, “Really smooth, you know? Nearly gave us away, you did.”

He shrugged, giving you a lopsided grin, “Oh, come on. Pretty sure half this lot know we’re together anyways. They may be younger, but they’re not completely dim-witted.”

Scoffing and turning your back to the group to face him better, you tried your best to give Fred a serious glare, “None of them are dim-witted, Fred. I’m just saying it would be nice to avoid the drama that comes with public teacher relationships.”

You took a step back as he took one towards you, trying your best to maintain some sort of professional distance. The students might be busy with their work, but that didn’t mean they were blind to the two Professors standing watch at the front of the room.

“I gotta admit, love,” he nodded his head, lowering his voice and leaning in, “the sneaking around has been rather fun.”

His voice sent shivers down your body, goosebumps rising on your skin. You forgot how to breathe for a second, quickly trying your best to regain your composure so the students didn’t see you looking like a fish out of water.

You let out a low cough, clearing your throat and nodding, “It has, hasn’t it?”

The grin on his face was practically contagious, causing the corners of your own lips to turn up before lifting a hand to toss your hair out of your face. You gazed up at him, running your tongue over your bottom lip before pulling it between your teeth, shooting him a wink in the process.

You could see the way his eyes were drawn to your every move, looking at your lips as if in some sort of trance. It caused a little sense of pride to blossom in your chest, to be honest. Fred was often the one who had you locked in a permanent dreamy state. It wasn’t everyday that you had the upper hand.

“Not bloody fair,” he tossed his head back, “Y’know how badly that makes me want to kiss you.”

You smirked, giving him a quick shrug of your shoulders and turning away, swaying your hips as you walked over to the chair that was a few feet away, sitting down comfortably and giving him another wink. You could tell his gaze was on your hips as you walked away — the darker tone in his eyes now locked on you.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

———————————————————————

“You’re a real piece of work, y’know?” he groaned in your ear, leaning over you as you organized the pile of recently collected exams, making sure that Fred’s proximity wasn’t a distraction. You weren’t being overly successful at that last part, though. You could smell his cologne and the warmth of his skin as he stood mere inches away, knowing damn well that he was causing you to stutter in your work.

You had been teasing Fred the entire exam period, sending him winks and lingering looks, even being bold enough to run your hand through his hair at one point, making sure to rake your nails lightly down the nape of his neck, enough to cause his body to erupt in goosebumps. He gave you a stern look after that, letting you know that he was now completely and utterly under your charm.

“Am I? Well, this is a competition, if you remember correctly. I think I won.” you spun around, leaning against the desk, a teasing look on your face.

“Oh, you definitely won,” his hands slid around your waist, delicately but firmly. He had a way with body language that was unmatched, you had to admit.

Taking a step closer to you and pulling your body closer to his, he dipped his head and began to pepper your jaw with light kisses.

“Fred,” you giggled, weakly attempting to push him away, “Not right now.”

He groaned against your neck, his lips continuing to press kisses along your skin. It was rendering your mind nearly completely blank, but you tried your best to stay focused, to make sure that you guys wouldn’t get caught and ruin the secrecy aspect to your hidden romance. Plus, you really didn’t want McGonagall to catch you in such a scandalous position.

“Honestly, do you have no self control?” you asked, successfully pushing him away. You missed the warmth of his body pressed against yours, but you had a feeling you’d be getting a lot of that tonight so you weren’t too upset about it. He’d more than make up for it in a few hours.

“Not around you, love,” he grinned, running a hand through his hair. You wished you were the one doing it instead, but once again, you had a feeling you’d be doing that quite a bit tonight, so you figured you’d wait until you could do it with no worries of anyone cutting in. He loved the feeling of your hands running through his hair, delicately giving little tugs every now and then.

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as you picked up the pile of finished exams, “You’re too much.”

Fred followed closely after you as you made your way towards the exit of the Hall, his hands empty but he kept them to himself this time, “But you love me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

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After having been empty this afternoon, the Great Hall was now bustling with life. The four house tables were filled with students and food, echoes of distant and nearby conversations reverberating around the crowded room. It wasn’t a sight one could get used to. Yes, you had spent seven years of your youth here, and a few years as a Professor now, but the atmosphere of this room would never quite sink in.

Professor Neville Longbottom, who was currently seated next to you, was rambling on about a mishap that happened in his class that day — something about a first year Gryffindor knocking over eight potted plants — and you nodded along and laughed as he made jokes.

“Can you believe it?” he asked, eyes wide as he munched on a potato, “He thought Mandrakes and Mimbulus Mimbletonia were the same thing!”

You let out an amused snort, “Kind of hard to think that,” you took a sip of your goblet of wine, “But I guess some people don’t have the magical knack for plants that you do.” You nudged him in the side with a smile.

He grinned at the compliment, the tips of his ears turning a deep shade of red. Neville was two years below you while in school, but his knowledge of plants and nature was way beyond you.

The conversation fell to a lull and Neville became invested in chatting with the person to his other side. You didn’t pay much attention to who it was, as your eyes were now trained to the other end of the table, where the usual seat of Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor was occupied by your boyfriend.

His eyes were already looking in your direction, causing a heat to surge through your body. A lazy smile was on his lips, and he clearly wasn’t paying attention to the elderly Professor Slughorn seated to his right.

“I love you,” you could read his lips, his eyes bright as they stayed locked on yours. His smile was genuine and loving, quite opposite to the teasing one he usually gave you, and it left your stomach feeling rather fluttery.

You bit your lower lip, fighting a grin, before moving your lips in return, “I love you more.”

———————————————————————

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embrassemoi · 3 years ago

Text

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 17

Pairings: Sirius B, Remus L, [F]Reader Content: Language, possible errors A/N: slight head-hopping

Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 17: The Stalking Map

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January 31st, 1976 | 11:30 pm

“Move your arse over!” Lily whispered. Moments after the lights went out, she crawled out of bed, her silky nightgown dragged across the floor as she walked over to Y/N. In one hand, she held a pillow, the other, Toulouse.

Y/N giggled, scooting over. “Can't get enough of me?”

“Hush! You know what I mean,” she blushed. Lily slipped in, the bed dipped as she wiggled around, making herself comfortable. But the small size didn’t help as they were slightly cramped together, leaving little space for either girl to move. Y/N made a note to herself to charm her bed so it’d be larger.

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February 2nd, 1976 | 12:23 am

“You really shouldn’t cram studying like this.”

A candle burned brightly inside their closed curtain drapes as Y/N continued to stress over an upcoming test.

“You’re smart — but you’re lucky if you manage a troll.”

“Be anymore encouraging, will you?” Y/N muttered out sarcastically.

Lily rolled her eyes, getting up from her pretzel seated position as her hand reached out, disappearing beyond the curtain drapes. Leaning over and supporting herself by gripping the bed frame, she grabbed a coffee pot and two teacups, pouring a steaming amount into each. She handed her one, Lily’s eyes squinted, her tongue poking out in thought before beginning. “So, five birds will be ejected from the wand with a blue light…”

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February 4th, 1976 | 1:12 am

They stared at each other for a moment before Lily’s mouth twitched upwards. The silence only lasted for a few beats before they both erupted into roaring laughter so strong that they had to lean into each other to prevent themselves from rolling off the bed.

“No. You. Didn’t!” Y/N exclaimed.

“What was I supposed to do? Not punch him?!” “Precisely!”

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February 5th, 1976 | 10:59 pm

Lily danced, jumping around on her bed. Her bright hair bounced around wildly whilst Y/N held her wand, pretending it was a microphone. One earbud was in Lily’s ear, the other in hers.

‘Yes, I’ve been brokenhearted!’ They mouthed to each other, despite there being a silencing spell around Lily’s bed.

‘Blue since the day we parted,

Why? Why? Did I ever let you go?

Mamma Mia now I really know!’

Y/N took her hands, pretending to play chords as if she were in front of an actual piano, mimicking the erratic backtrack. Lily shook with laughter before she slowly sank onto the bed as her hair sprawled out.

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February 9th, 1976 | 12:17 am

“Ginger —”

“I consider that harassment and bullying. Do you know how many detentions I can give you?”

“Haha — ginger.”

“Ten points from Gryff —” “No —” “TWENTY POINTS FROM —” “I’M SORRY!”

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February 11th, 1976 | 1:37 am

“What do you wanna know?” She whispered.

Speckles of starlight slipping through the cracks of their drapes. Lily, for whatever reason, seemed restless. It always seemed like whenever it was extremely early in the morning, there was a change in Lily’s demeanour.

Lily averted her gaze, biting her bottom lip, “Tell me a secret.”

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February 12th, 1976

After almost two weeks of their almost nightly rendezvous, they’d gotten closer than they have in the past six months and it seemed like Lily knew her better than she did at times.

Lily was practically bouncing off the walls. Every day, she seemed to become more radiant, happier, bubblier and Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what caused such a spike in her mood.

The redhead wove their way out of the bustling crowd, her arm linked with Y/N’s. She’d caught a few times, Lily looking at her every now and then before she seemed to stare for a little longer than what was considered polite. She’d forced a cough, fiddling with a strand of hair with her free hand; looking everywhere — or at anything, but her.

Sometimes Y/N felt and sounded like a broken record.

Repeating her thoughts over and over again, analyzing herself and the people around her; overthinking causing loads of unanswered questions… It was a problem that she didn’t know how to switch off.

Sometimes, it’d become too overwhelming, even to the point of tears in frustration and the constant overthinking. It would start with a flicker of interest, morphing into a spiral of questions, then irritation before spreading through her veins like a wildfire, spiking with anxiousness or fury. But recently, her over-thinking wasn’t necessarily overwhelming or maddening, this time it was purely curious. It was as if she blinked an eye; suddenly Lily would be acting fine — normal to becoming strange and skittish within mere seconds.

Perhaps it was stress?

February began and the workload for the OWLs was beginning to wear down on everyone. To be dramatic, every day became a blur, all merging into one blob: wake up, head down to the hall, class, lunch, class, study — then become too overwhelmed from studying and have the urge to cry or yell, dinner, study more, then sleep. With hardly any time to retain the information and the OWLs set to start late May, Y/N’s main goal was to memorize every bit of information rather than learn what it meant; that was for another time.

Whenever the fifth or seventh years weren’t in class, they were studying in the library, the hallways, even at dinner or lunch. It was so busy that the Marauders made it a point to swing by — even Mary and Marlene were becoming frequent visitors too. Mostly, they studied, but other times it ended with Lily constantly threatening James with detention (which he already received one and lost around forty house points after starting a small fire — which nobody knew how it even happened), Peter brought baked goods but ended up spilling a cup of tea over his notes and robes; Sirius and Marlene often mucked around while Y/N and Remus begun migrating to the common room after Pince threatened to throw them all out (and honestly, they were tired with everyone else’s shit).

And it had been taking a toll on Lily. She’d lost sleep and was slightly more agitated when it came to those around her and overall seemed to become quieter than usual.

Yeah, it was probably stress, but it didn’t answer her happy mood. Whatever it was, it looked good on her.

That day, they decided to eat lunch away from the Great Hall. They sat on a nearby window ledge, watching students idly as they passed back and forth, all having their own little lives. Y/N’s back was pressed against the window, her knees bunched together as Lily guessed the lives of people around them.

Young students, old students, some smiling, some frowning. Usually, Hogwarts was almost too overbearing. The swarm of bodies clung together like magnets, hard to separate, hard to pull yourself away from because soon enough, you’ll be roped into another set of magnets. While Hogwarts had been smaller in size and population compared to Ilvermorny, you could never catch a break here.

But, in times like these, they were able to come down from the high. It was fascinating and oddly calm; the noise, the chatter, it all became background noise.

And like a magician, Remus popped out, walking towards them. Lily waved Remus down, inviting him to sit with them. Although, Peter wasn’t that far behind as he came bouncing up behind. A few people waved to him, he’d even stopped a few times to catch up with a few students that passed.

Remus took the free seat next to Y/N, Peter next to Lily.

“Bloody cold here,” Peter said, rubbing his shoulder up and down, handing each girl a muffin before Remus, but he declined, waving around a small bag of blackberries.

Lily and Peter quickly fell into a conversation while she and Remus turned to talk. His leg brushed against hers before ripping away quickly. Even with just the slightest touch, Remus was a furnace. Y/N quickly looked up to him, their eyes meeting shortly. Her eyebrow curled up at him, wondering why he was so warm; had he been sick? He didn’t look bad…

She hadn’t been spending that much time with him as of late, aside from the study groups. But he smiles broadly. There was a weariness on his face that seemed to have chased away immediately. “Noon.”

“Noon! How have you been?”

His smile turns even brighter, so much as he could rival the stars. There’s a certain playfulness in his eyes, devilishly and sly. He looks too eerily like James, but it only tells her that he’d come up with another prank recently.

“Great,” there is amusement in his voice, so smug, so confident. “Came up with a new prank idea.”

Bloody knew it, as he’d would say.

“Tell me about it.”

“Well, let’s just say that there’s going to be a lot of dungbombs, Polyjuice potions and probably explosions.”

“Explosions?!”

“You’ll see.” Again, sounding so confident and smug. It put a smile on her face. “So what about you?”

Her mind racks around for a while; nothing much has happened recently; she’s stumped.

He considers her for a moment with a soft gaze, completely understanding. “We’re planning to mix in Polyjuice potion with pumpkin juice on Valentine's day at dinner. When the person drinks it; they should turn into who they fancy.”

“So where do the explosions come in?”

Remus gives a deep chuckle, “Now I can’t give away all my secrets, can I?”

But before she could make a witty retort, perhaps even convincing him to spill his deets, Peter calls out to Remus, pointing discreetly to a girl looking at them directly from the other side of the corridor. They all recognized her from the study group, a fourth year that comes on Wednesdays. She waved over to them — well, actually just at Remus as her other hand grasped an item behind her back.

He waves over, hesitantly getting up, “I’ll be back.

This wasn’t unusual — since he ran most of the fifth year groups, Remus constantly had younger students approach him in the halls. Although, they were all starstruck; after all, he was tall, a bit scary and a part of the oh so intimidating Marauders.

Their eyes were glued to his back as they watched the interaction play out. The girl tipped back and forth on her feet, swaying as she shyly looked up to him. She went on to a small monologue before pulling out a heart-shaped box of chocolates and holding it in front of herself.

Lily sucked in a sharp breath, a hand flying to her mouth to prevent giggling to seep out and the young girl overhearing, but it was out of entertainment rather than any malicious intent. Remus, however, did not look too phased, however, gave a pitiful smile, thanking the girl for her confession but letting her down softly. Within a second, the girl’s face contorted, her eyes swelling up with thick tears as she threw the chocolate box at Remu’s chest — but missed, scattering to the ground, as she bolted down the corridor.

“Blimey,” Peter breathed out, “That’s the third one this week. He’s going to beat Sirius for Valentine’s day confessions at this rate.”

“Well this is awkward,” Remus said, coming back to the group. He had picked up the box, an uncomfortable grimace on his face as he turned it around. Y/N looked up at him; he was flustered, unsure what to do. So, she patted his shoulder, gaining his attention and slid the box out of his hands and cracked it open; they were all sorts of different chocolate, milk, white, dark, truffles, shavings, even some had coconut while others were biscuits covered in it. It was intended for Valentine's day judging by the intricate and soft velvety packaging but she assumed that poor girl simply couldn’t refrain.

Yeah, she definitely should’ve waited — or not have said anything, but at least she had nerve. It felt like Y/N lacked the so-called Gryffindor trait often, so if anything, she applauded that fourth year.

The group looked at her oddly as Y/N shrugged, plopping a piece into her mouth. “What? Expensive chocolate is still expensive chocolate.”

She took the box, stretching her hand out, offering it to the group.

“Nu-uh,” Lily blurted, her wands waved out in front of her, “There’s no way I’m eating that.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you feel bad?! And that must be bad mojo! You broke her heart; why did you take the box?”

“Surely you saw her throw it at me! You didn’t expect me to throw it back at her?”

Lily stopped her scold, suppressing another fit of giggles before letting out a very loud snort. Y/N and Peter howled together at careless, ‘improper’ lady laughs that Lily usually didn’t make. Y/N liked the change, she seemed freer.

“Well, do you fancy anyone then?” Lily retorted as she composed herself.

Remus snorted too, scooted over to Y/N as she offered him the box. He nodded, grabbing a small bite-sized chocolate piece. He rubbed at his collarbone in a sheepish manner, cracking it which made Y/N and Peter's face scrunch up. “What do you think?”

“You should go and date around. Honestly, you have all these women at your feet and you’ve never gone on one.” Peter added.

“Yes, yes!” Lily urged, “Listen to him!”

“You guys care more about this than I do.”

If James and Sirius were the most popular students, James being goofy while Sirius was a playboy, and Peter had the most friends, Remus was definitely the most well-liked Marauder and the one with the coolest reputation; something that James was certainly jealous of. But the fact that he seemed oblivious to it, Y/N found hilarious and humbling, very unlike his friends.

His head shook. “Well then, what about you two. Do you fancy anyone?”

They both went red immediately. Peter bit the inside of his cheek before Y/N shoved the tray of chocolates his way; he grabbed a handful, eating them in complete silence. Lily, well, she went completely still, almost as if Remus had shot a spell at her. She coughed, looking away uncomfortably as a nervous chuckle embedded its way out.

Y/N’s eyes widened and she and Remus immediately whipped their heads to look at each other. Their mouths gaped, closing and opening like goldfish. Both of their minds reeled, thinking about the same thing. Remus snapped his head back to Lily, his finger pointing at her. “Godric! You do!”

“I-I do not! I don’t fancy anyone!”

“Spill! What’s he like?” Remus asked. They kept probing her for questions, in hope of an answer but she wouldn’t budge.

“Is it Potter?!” Peter asked, his happy mood dimming but he forced a chipperly grin.

Remus was choking on air itself, “You’re taking the piss!”

They all looked at her in burning anticipation. If it was true, James was going to have a field day. Lily’s eyes widened, reaching over to grab the lid of the chocolate box and wacked Peter with it.

They were a mess of giggles, particularly Remus and Y/N who watched Lily berate Peter for the sheer mention of James. They basked in the safe feeling of the sunlight on their skin, the warmth spreading through them and rivalled the bitter chill.

As more laughter erupted, memories created, chocolate eaten, the bell eventually rang. Lily parted off with Marlene and Peter, both in the small class, as Y/N joined Remus.

“You think it’s Potter? Can’t be, can it?”

“I think he’d cry if it was.”

“Truly, he’d go mental.”

“Or maybe Lily’s gone mad.”

Remus shrugged, a smirk tugged at his lips, “Perfect match then.”

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Y/N slumped over her textbooks, watching as Bowie the Bowtruckle climbed into her hand. She hardly paid attention to what Kettleburn droned about.

“Alright! My pupils, listen up; next week, we’re starting a group project for the OWLs. But, I will be the one assigning the partners — oh don’t give me those faces! I have picked your partner based on grades and strengths. Ultimately you will both work together on hatching a Puffskein and care for it. It will be ongoing alongside the rest of your OWL studies and other projects I will assign.

“You will be graded on the overall health and happiness of your Puffskeins. We have gone over their care for a while and I think we’re ready to start. Remember to refer back to your books and do not hesitate to ask me. I have all your equipment ready to go next week.”

Kettleburn coughed, unfurling a piece of parchment with what the class assumed was a list of names.

“To start, Dorcas Meadowes and Lucinda Talkalot —”

Great.

Kettleburn continued to list name after name. Y/N brought a finger to Bowie, letting him touch her gently.

“ — Crabble and Evan Rosier.

“Amita Patil and Edmud Brown.

“Sirius Black and Y/N L/N.

“Susan Chang and Agnes —”

Wait.

Her eyes widened, sharply turning to Sirius who already stared back. Both of their mouths were agape. She hadn’t heard wrong.

“Now, don't ask me to change partners. I will do no such thing. We'll talk more about this next week. Class is dismissed — don’t forget about your paper due on Tuesday!”

Y/N watched as the class got up from their seats, her shoulders slumped dejectedly. Quickly, she stood, walking to the door and pushed the assignment quickly out of her head. But once reaching the door, a Slytherin knocked into her. His hands were pushed out, causing her books and notes to sprawl over the floor as he scoffed down.

“Sorry,” she groans out, “I didn’t mean —”

“Watch where you’re going, stupid Muggle.” With a sharp turn, Crabble walked away with a nasty smile.

Sirius had seen the entire ordeal go down, finding himself stuck at a crossroad; it took all the effort in the world to prevent himself from walking straight up to the boy, hexing him beyond belief, but casting a glance at her, struggling to process what just happened caused him to reassess his thoughts. Instead, he took a deep inhale, noting to himself to take care of that later, and strode towards her, dropping down as he picked up her books, shoving them neatly into her bag while collecting any loose sheet of parchment.

“You okay?” He asked with a voice so gentle it could have been mistaken for a whisper. He turned his head upwards to look at her.

Her eyes were foggy, a faraway look in them, completely in shock.

Sirius wasn’t sure what compelled him to, but his hand reached over, picking up her hand delicately in reassurance. His thumb stroked over her soft skin and helped to pull her to her feet.

The touch broke Y/N out of her daze; the physical contact caused both students to have a fuzzy, odd feeling settling at the pit of their stomachs.

His touch was so soft, so gentle despite his eyes brimming with rage that almost seemed feral.

But, she hardly noticed it as she nodded weakly, jaw clenched. Her mind reeled, attempting to process her emotions — completely baffled and shocked. It was so sudden she felt like she hadn’t had time to digest the situation. Muggle… the Slytherin used it in such a derogatory manner. A word meant to simply describe her sounded bitter — disgusting and low.

Sirius pulled back quickly, the hand flying straight up to his hair. A thought passed through his head, he wanted to reach out again, but he squashed it for more important manners.

“Are you okay?” He repeated.

“Why are you helping me?” She blurted out before she could stop herself. It was the only coherent thought she had at the moment. Sirius out of all people should be laughing at her, shouldn’t he? Being a Pureblood and all…

The comment and the way her eyes judged him quickly told him all he needed to know. A panged sigh went through him.

“Look,” Sirius grew stiff, “I —” he paused, “I may not particularly like you, but I don’t like blood purist arseholes who push women more.”

With another once over, Sirius checked for any scratches or injuries before calming down. “I can take you to the Hospital Wing. It was a nasty fall.”

She shook her head again. The last thing she wanted was for them to get along only out of pity. Sirius understood, handing over her bag and walked away. She watched as his hand clutched the straps of his bag; his grip was so tight that his knuckles were white. His other hand, the one that he touched her with, flexed several times before curling into a fist.

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Currently, she sat by the window ledge in the common room, writing a letter to her mother. Although, her mother hadn't responded to her letters since December. In fact, her mother had only responded to two of her letters throughout her stay; about six months. It made Y/N bitterly press her lips into a thin line. For once, it’d feel nice for her own mother to prioritize her, to make her feel more important than her work.

Blood-red silk curtains nearly swallowed her whole, letting in the little light from the stars outside. The fireplace and chandelier were lit and she could scarcely make out the familiar figure of messy hair, two tufts sticking out like always, swinging an arm over her shoulders. He whined, “Oi! Evans has been stealing you! I feel like I’ve hardly talked to you the past week!”

“Jealous much?”

“Of course,” he said sarcastically, “Anyway, I, the James Potter, your best friend —" "Right." "— am inviting you on a prank. In or out?”

“In,” she said without hesitation. After the Muggle situation, she would do anything to get it out of her head, even for just a few hours. She immediately got up from her seat, walking out the portrait hole. James threw his invisibility cloak over them.

“What are we doing? Is it Remus’ prank we’re doing now?”

James turned to her, his eyebrows deep in confusion. “He told you about that? He hardly tells us before the day of the execution. Anyway, anything you want.”

“Anything I want? What about your boy band?”

He looked over to her in confusion, sliding out a small bag filled with both of their favourite snacks, tossing it to her. “Not coming, just us. Although Remus is on patrol tonight and his mini-gift to you — or er — us, he’s making sure that the Gryffindor and Slytherin floors are cleared from teachers. Should go off without a hitch. So, I’ll ask you again, what do you have in mind?”

“Pranking the Slytherins,” she said without a pause which caused James to grin.

“Atta girl! Learning from the best!”

The prank itself was small in comparison to the prank she helped with on Halloween. Y/N decided on having the prank in the Great Hall for everyone to see. James produced about a dozen dungbombs from his bag, setting it under the Slytherin table and placing a timer on it, ready to be set off in the morning.

But she insisted on the one Slytherin from earlier. Crabble, was it? She asked James to help her give him a little bit more misery than the others. They placed a dozen hexes and jinxes on his usual seat: hair lost jinx, jelly legs, horn tongue hex, Engorgio, twitchy ears, bedazzling hex —

Right now was not the time for Y/N to forgive and forget — revenge was beautiful, fulfilling; she couldn’t wait.

But, their only downfall was that they weren’t on the floors Remus had cleared out for them. So when Mrs. Norris came up to them, only to dash out of the hall, it caused the two pranksters to finalize their escapade before James grabbed her hand and fled the scene.

They ran throughout the empty corridors as the clicking of their shoes echoed throughout the corridor. They were both laughing, smiling brightly. They ran past the Bloody Baron and Nearly Headless Nick, woke up most of the portraits before they heard the vague sound of Filch’s screaming.

“COME BACK HERE!”

“YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO CATCH US!” Y/N shouted, which had James snickering.

He whipped his head around and placed two hands around his mouth to make his statement louder, “YOU MUST BE LOOKING FOR A GALLEON, EH?! RENT BOY!”

After an abundance of sharp twists and turns, passing by countless hallways and secret tunnels, James seized a blank piece of parchment from his back pocket. He muttered a few words, opening it and ran down another set of corridors, through a tunnel and outside of the castle.

“What are you doing?!”

“Just trust me!”

There wasn’t even a moment’s hesitation: Y/N had grown to trust James a long time ago.

They ducked under an overhead from the castle, far away from Filch. Their ragged breaths filled the air before Y/N snatched the parchment from James’ grasp. “What is this?”

A panicked look flashes through James before he reaches over, trying to pry it from her grasp.

“Nu-uh!” She waved in front of her.

He sighed, realizing that he wasn’t going to get it back and that lying was the worst possible option. “You can’t tell anyone — my chaps will have my head if you do —”

“Who do you think I am?! Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course,” he rolled his eyes at her guilt tripping, “It’s a map we all created — er — Moony was the one to create it. He came up with it and did most of the work. Anyway, it tells us where everything and everyone is at every minute of the day.”

On the front, it read in maroon colours of the boy’s code names, Moony at the very front.

Moony — Remus… always a surprise.

James opened it, flicking it open as he pointed to a pair of animated footprints sprinted around the page hurriedly; Filch's name appearing overhead. His name travelled across the paper at a fast pace, running and zigzagging down the halls in the opposite direction. And by the looks of it, Peeves was following him. Above, they could see Remus’ name close to where they used to be, his name moving quickly in what both assumed was him trying to look for them. He must’ve heard the screaming.

It truly was amazing their little map. She marvelled at the classrooms, every hallway, every inch of ground that covered the surrounding area. Passageways, hallways, doors and abandoned classrooms were all there. Although, a few areas were missing. She noticed how the little nook underneath the tapestry nor a large plot of land close to the left-wing of the castle had yet to be mapped out.

“I proudly present the Marauder’s map.” James boasts.

Her face scrunched up, “You mean the stalking map — perv.”

James faked an offended expression, a hand came to clutch his heart. “I was raised to be a gentleman!”

“Sure thing.”

He was about to make another joke before his face slowly fell upon realization, “Wait, really? Is that why Lily doesn’t like me?” He tugged down on his hair in distress, his eyes looking as if they were to pop out any second. “Do women think I’m perving around?!”

Y/N chortled, prying the map from his hands and slipped back into the castle while having a panicked James follow, completely freaking out in the background, spurting out concern after concern.

She followed the map, walking over to Remus who stood underneath a large painting. He escorted them back to the common room to prevent them from getting any possible detentions and not needing the invisibility cloak. But James continued to babble on about his (alleged and false) creepy behaviour, his emotions spiking while Remus watched the two.

“Okay,” he sighed, observing James have a meltdown as he clung to Y/N’s arm, spewing apologies if he had ever crossed a line. “What did you do? You broke him.”

"Nothing.”

He didn’t question it but his nostrils flared as he attempted to press his lips in a thin line, his face going as red as Lily’s hair.

104 notes · View notes

amedetoiles · 4 years ago

Photo

@suibian-chenqing ME TOOOO!!! It is my ultimate endgame in any version of cql/mdzs. Just Lotus Pier in some way, shape, or form being the home where everyone returns to.

So please consider a universe where everyone makes better choices, has healthier conflict resolution skills à la conversations over soup, and lives happily ever after. Hear me out:

We all know that the chaotic Jiang disciples are the unsung heroes of the story, always merrily dragging their grumpy grape sect leader from danger and picking up after his dramatically discarded capes across various parts of the country.

What if after that staged fight while Jiang Cheng angrily copes with brozilla wedding planning (they hear him crying yelling multiple times at all the notebooks full of wedding ideas Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng have jotted down over the years), they decide that this is just not conducive to the happiness of their two favorite Young Masters?

Or equally important, the continuation of their beloved tradition of monthly Lotus Pier lake parties. A Jiang pool party without their resident chaos king and undisputed champion for the highest caliber splash swan dives? This Will Not Stand!

Obviously it is their Duty and their Right as the protectors and purveyors of Jiang culture for a few of them to secretly stow away while Jiang Cheng is having an epic meltdown over fabric.

“800 thread count? Are you out of your goddamn minds? My only sister, and you expect us to throw her a wedding with disgraceful eight hundred thread count fabric?! Do we Jiangs look like barbarians to you?!”

The Jiang disciples go to Yiling, rush up the Burial Mounds, and shout very convincingly, “Da-shixiong! Da-shixiong! Zongzhu, he – he –”

Wei Wuxian, war-torn, living with ten thousand ghosts, and constantly on edge, panics immediately, jumps to the absolute worst conclusion, and doesn’t even clarify before he rushes down the mountain because oh god, oh god, no, not again, didn’t he leave so his siblings would be safe, didn’t he promise to keep Jiang Cheng safe?????

Wen Qing warily agrees to come along because they clearly now have this well-established ongoing unspoken agreement to constantly save each other’s little brothers.

If the Jiang disciples have caught Jiang Cheng brooding over a pretty redwood comb wrapped in a silk handkerchief more than once, then they don’t say anything. Just share silent looks of glee when no one is watching.

By the time they reach Lotus Pier, Wei Wuxian has worked himself up into such a state of frenzy that he bursts through the doors of Lotus Pier like a black thundercloud of overprotective fury and worry, screaming, “JIANG CHENG! JIANG CHENG!”

.... Jiang Cheng is sitting on the floor of the Sword Hall, surrounded by a mountain of square fabric samples, with bits of thread stuck in his hair, totally gobsmacked at the sight of his windswept big brother.

Wei Wuxian, still panicked, falls to the floor in front of him, grabs Jiang Cheng by the arms before he can even react, and frantically checks him over. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened – I thought –”

Jiang Cheng stares at him. Wei Wuxian blinks. The Jiang disciples have all conveniently disappeared.

Behind them, Wen Qing heaves a big sigh, slow and long through pursed lips. She bows respectfully, says “I will be outside,” and gets the fuck out of there.

There is a tense silence. Wei Wuxian realizes he’s been tricked, but he is so overcome with relief after all that soul-crushing fear that he doesn’t even get mad, just sags forward with his face in Jiang Cheng’s chest as the adrenaline leaves him all at once. He pretends he’s not shaking.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know if he wants to shove Wei Wuxian away, hug him back, or wrap him in as many blankets as he can possibly find until a-jie comes home. He does none of those, just demands, half-strangled, half-something-like-worry, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“They said – I thought you were in trouble or – or –”

[long pause] “You – came all the way here shouting like a possessed lunatic because you thought I was in trouble?”

Wei Wuxian hunches a little defensively and starts to move away. “Of course I did.” He makes sure to add, with emphasis, “Idiot.”

It doesn’t matter if Jiang Cheng can’t make up his mind because apparently his hands can, and they grip both of Wei Wuxian’s elbows to keep his brother from pulling away. They stare at one another.

”You said you didn’t want anything to do with the Jiang sect.”

Wei Wuxian looks away, grumbling. “How else was I supposed to keep you and shijie safe? Besides, you’re the one who stabbed me.” He is very pouty about this.

Jiang Cheng, immediately incensed and indignant, shouts, “You broke my arm! I had to be in a cast for a whole month!”

An almost smile flashes over Wei Wuxian’s face. “Hey, it was only your left arm. You were still able to write.”

Jiang Cheng glares at him and shoves his shoulder. Wei Wuxian instinctively shoves him back. They stare. Wei Wuxian scrubs his face tiredly with his hands. Jiang Cheng has to push away the urge to motherhen with blankets again.

He says, “I never asked you to protect me.”

Wei Wuxian gives him a look. “I don’t need to be asked.”

Jiang Cheng grits his teeth. “I don’t want you to protect me, idiot.”

Wei Wuxian heaves a very resigned sigh. “Then what do you want?”

Several answers come up, all too serious and too revealing without the support of a-jie’s soup and copious amount of alcohol. So Jiang Cheng just throws a handful of fabric samples at Wei Wuxian’s face. “Help me pick through these until a-jie comes home. You should have fucking heard Jin Zixuan’s suggestions last week. If we let the peacock plan a-jie’s wedding, it’s going to be an absolute disaster.”

Wei Wuxian’s smile this time is real and genuine and lasts the entire afternoon of bickering over fabric squares until Jiang Yanli rushes into the pavilion with many Jiang disciples in tow and hugs both her brothers for the first time in months. They manage to not horribly cry all over each other.

Jiang Yanli insists Wen Qing has dinner with them. There’s plenty of soup after all. Jiang Cheng is awkwardly stiff and doesn’t look Wen Qing in the eye the entire time, and Wei Wuxian pokes him repeatedly with silent what the hell is wrong with you.

They talk about growing turnips, purifying rice wine, that the scariest thing about Wen Ning is his ability to create a disturbingly large variety of dishes from turnips, and how Wei Wuxian has essentially adopted baby A-Yuan as his own.

Later, Jiang Yanli tells Wen Qing, with a smile, her eyes alight like a flame, that she will take care of it. Wen Qing has no idea what this means. Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian share a look as only little brothers with intimate knowledge of their big sister’s stubbornness could and wisely choose to remain silent.

Jiang Yanli enlists the help of both Jin Zixuan and Madam Jin and somehow does indeed take care of it.

Many back door conversations occur between Jiang, Jin, Lan, and Nie sects. Jin Zixuan is the sole Jin representative. Nie Mingjue is initially leery but comes at the behest of Huaisang and Xichen.

At some point, Wen Ning tells Wei Wuxian that if they are going to do this, then it’s best if they have no more secrets. Wei Wuxian glares and tries to pretend that he has no idea what he is talking about, but neither Jiang Yanli nor Jiang Cheng allow Wei Wuxian to run away this time.

There is an emotional golden core reveal, followed by an equally emotional I didn’t go back for their bodies, with lots of shouting, shoving, crying, and clinging. In the aftermath, the Jiang siblings form an even stronger co-dependent unit around each other.

Jiang Yanli coordinates with Lan Xichen (and a begrudgingly cooperative Jiang Cheng) to bring Lan Wangji to Lotus Pier to help Wei Wuxian control his powers. Wangxian are desperately cute, and Jiang Cheng makes pointed gagging sounds whenever he’s around them that leads to several incidents of lake shoving, an excitable gaggle of Jiang disciples swan diving into the water after them, and a very, very confused Lan.

In the end, Wei Wuxian refuses to hand over the Stygian Tiger Seal to any of the sects, but he does agree to destroy it if Wen Qing, Wen Ning, and the remaining Wens are granted clemency and allowed to live freely without persecution. Jiang, Lan, and Nie sects agree.

Jin Guangshan tries to make an uproar, but in a surprising turn of events, Jin Guangyao (grateful for Jiang Yanli’s non-judgmental kindness over the past year) reveals all of his father’s treacherous secrets, including ordering the slaughter of Wen civilians, pardoning and releasing Xue Yang, and purposefully fueling the mob against Wei Wuxian to acquire the seal for himself. Jin Guangshan is shamed, sentenced, and dies imprisoned some months later.

Jin Zixuan formally recognizes his newly renamed brother Jin Ziyao.

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian decide that their sister is even scarier than they had believed.

The Wens leave the Burial Mounds and build a small village together in Yiling where they branch into farming non-turnip crops much to the delight of Wei Wuxian. Jiang disciples are dispatched to help with the construction of several buildings, including one extremely beautiful apothecary. Jiang Cheng is seen in Yiling fairly regularly.

Jin Zixun, the most vocal opponent against the pardons for Wei Wuxian and the Wens, tragically falls off a cliff one day. Sect Leader Yao tries to pin it on Wei Wuxian, but Jiang Cheng shuts him down with scathing ferocity.

Someone also puts a Silencing Spell on Sect Leader Yao and keeps it going. Every Lan swears it was not them and thus cannot remove the spell. It lasts for two glorious months. Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji get along disturbingly well from that point on.

Wei Wuxian is there when Jiang Yanli gets married in a magnificent splendor of red and gold. He is there to see Jin Ling born, to watch Jiang Cheng tie a purple bell to their nephew’s robes, and to gift little A-Ling a bracelet on his first month birthday. He is there to watch Jiang Cheng rebuild their sect with unending grit, respect, and loyalty. He is there to see Jin Ling and A-Yuan grow up underneath a sky he helped clear, loved and adored by all the different parts of their family. And some years after he and Lan Wangji are happily married, Wei Wuxian is there when his little brother dons red robes and bows to the heavens, to the earth, and to a woman with a redwood comb in her hair whose life became entwined with theirs so very long ago.

#the untamed #mdzs #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #yunmeng sibs #陈情令 #[ ask eve ]#suibian-chenqing #!mine #!meta #!fic #ok i lied asks are still being a shit on tumblr so i made a new post sorry for my ocdness #anyway this really got away from me lmfao but i effectively entertained myself very thoroughly #so i hope you enjoy this too #i love my jiangs #JIANGS ALWAYS AND FOREVER #long post

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writingxfootballl · 4 years ago

Text

know that it’s you (g.w.)

(ginny weasley x reader)

it only took seven years for you to get your happy ending.

warnings: mentions of death, light cursing, men, sarcasm, and no capitalization

word count: ~2.5k

a/n: first hp fic! hope i did okay- i tried my best to capture ginny’s character but it’s not perfect <3

format inspired by @ravenclawwriting ‘s masterpiece- “turning time”

title- hold on, flor

——

first year

the aura of confidence she gives off smacks you straight in the face when she passes by you on the platform.

not that you needed any help noticing her.

her flowing red hair caught your eye almost immediately.

oh how you wished to be her friend.

“gryffindor!”

you let out a sigh of relief.

slowly you pick yourself up and walk to the table, where the pretty red headed girl is sitting.

she looks up and smiles at you, gesturing for you to take a seat next to her.

when you do, she sticks out her hand and introduces herself.

“ginny weasley.”

taking her hand, you do the same.

“y/n y/ln.”

when ginny goes missing later that year, you blame yourself.

you should’ve noticed that she was getting quieter and quieter.

you should’ve noticed that she would be gone for hours.

you should’ve noticed.

when she disappears for a few days, she takes your heart with her.

so when harry fucking potter swoops in and saves her, you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, and it feels like your heart can finally beat normally again.

second year

now that you got her back, you were inseparable.

screw fred and george, you were the new duo at hogwarts.

just kidding, no one could beat the iconic mischief seeking twins, but you sure gave professors a run for their money.

the red headed girl always seemed to have something up her sleeve, and no matter good or bad, you followed her.

that summer, you’re invited to the burrow for the first time.

the two of you share a room, and what started out as separate beds and shy company slowly turned into fleeting glances and lingering touches.

hand holding, cheek kisses and cuddling, all the “platonic” displays of affection.

and then, ginny invites you to the quidditch world cup.

you’ve never been a quidditch fan, but you’d go a thousand times over if she asked you.

really, you’d do a lot of things if she asked you.

third year

you can see her concern for harry when he gets drawn for the triwizard tournament.

it makes you want to rip his head off.

and then, slowly, you begin to notice it all.

how when you were constantly staring at ginny, her eyes followed a certain boy’s every move.

how she’s a flushed, nervous, bumbling wreck around him, so different from the confident and assured girl you knew.

it makes you want to rip his head off even more.

but you don’t know why.

harry’s always been a nice guy.

arrogant, sure, but a nice guy, certainly someone you shouldn’t hate.

so you ask hermione.

the golden girl just laughs when you tell her.

“oh, my dear y/n, you’re just jealous.”

now you’re even more confused.

“jealous? why would i be jealous?”

hermione chuckles a little bit and looks up from her book.

“you fancy her y/n.”

you scoff a little at that.

“me? fancying ginny? no way!”

hermione rolls her eyes and motions for you to leave her to her studying, before mumbling quietly:

“no wonder you were sorted into gryffindor and not ravenclaw.”

you’re determined to somehow prove hermione wrong.

so when seamus asks you to the ball, you consider accepting.

but then you think about ginny.

your sweet, beautiful ginny.

you tell him you’ll get back to him, before running across the school to the courtyard, where you know she’s at.

your question somehow makes it through the panted breaths and heaves.

“would you like to go to the yule ball with me?”

ginny’s face splits into a grin.

“i would love to.”

when you see ginny at the ball, you have to remember how to breathe.

“you look stunning.”

ginny blushes a little at your compliment.

“so do you.”

your heart races in your chest at her words.

you clear your throat at the silence that follows and-

“so, shall we dance?”

you smile and nod graciously, taking her hand and following.

with one of her hands on your waist and the other tightly clasped in yours, hermione’s words flash in your mind.

“you fancy her y/n.”

your eyes meet and you can’t believe you’ve never taken the time to admire how much of a golden honey color they are.

but then.

of course.

“hey um- could i speak to you ginny?”

dean fucking thomas.

ginny lets go of you almost immediately.

she glances at you apologetically, and despite the nagging ache in your chest, you nod and let her go.

after she leaves with him, the rest of the ball passes in a blur, where you can’t focus on anything else except the tenuous strain of your heart.

maybe hermione was right after all.

fourth year

turns out hermione was right.

so very very right.

ginny had you wrapped around her finger.

and for the most part, this year wasn’t bad.

with the exception of dean of course.

when he comes into the picture, it shatters you.

but she couldn’t know that.

so you listened to her talk about him, biting back the i could treat you better from the tip of your tongue.

despite the fact that ginny has a boyfriend, the two of you grow closer.

you’re both members of the DA, helping each other with spells and practicing in your free time.

“ugh gin it’s not working-“

ginny rolls her eyes at you.

“it’s not that hard y/nn, do you want to watch me do it again?”

you nod enthusiastically and ginny giggles a little.

“alright move aside then.”

you move and watch from the side, somehow ending up eyeing along her side profile rather than watching her hex.

eyebrows furrowed, lip bitten in concentration-

dear godric she’s so pretty-

“y/n are you even watching?!”

you shake your head and blush before stuttering out:

“u-uh, s-sorry could you d-do it again?”

ginny watches you with an amused smirk and takes a step in, closer to you.

“you’re kind of cute you know that?”

her finger tracing your jaw, she emphasizes the end of her sentence with a pop and a nose tap.

your mouth drops open, and all the blood in your body rushes to your cheeks.

ginny steps away and seeing that you were still frozen there, turns back and teases:

“aw come on y/n, the bat bogey hex isn’t going to learn itself now is it?”

merlin, this girl was going to be the death of you.

when ginny tells you she broke up with dean, you want to go out and scream in happiness.

but instead, you stay put and say, “aw gin im so sorry, i’ll be here if you need me.”

you’re woken up later that night when ginny crawls into bed with you.

with her face buried in your neck and her hands wrapped loosely around your waist, you can’t help the smile teasing the corners of your lips.

it’s everything you’ve ever asked for.

fifth year

then, fifth year happens.

you could see harry and ginny growing closer and closer, and it felt like she was leaving you behind.

your weekly hogsmeade trips slowly became less and less intimate, as the golden trio began joining the two of you.

a butterbeer was poked at mindlessly with a straw by you at the three broomsticks, all while listening to ginny chat with harry, and ron chat with hermione.

it doesn’t surprise you when ginny and harry disappear together after a little while.

it doesn’t surprise you when ginny starts spending less time in your room, and more time in his.

it doesn’t surprise you when you spot ginny with her head on his shoulder one day.

it doesn’t surprise you, but it still stings.

it stings a lot.

sixth year

the golden trio is gone for almost the entirety of this year.

before they leave, harry breaks up with ginny, and she doesn’t react really.

she accepts it.

but you’re there for her even if she says she’s fine and she doesn’t need it.

then one day, she needs it.

you walk into your room to see her sitting on her bed.

it takes you a second to realize she’s crying.

you’re by her side immediately.

“oh gin- what’s wrong?”

she doesn’t say anything, just turning to you and without a word, you wrap your arms around her.

and you stay like that for a while.

when she goes quiet, you whisper out:

“gin?”

and then you realize she’s fallen asleep.

you try to bite back your poorly contained smile, gently guiding the girl off your shoulder and onto your lap.

you softly tuck a loose, fiery red strand behind her ear, a blush lightly tinting your cheeks when she exhales softly in her sleep.

merlin, i love you.

your cheeks flush even more when she grasps the front of your robes, pulling herself even closer to you.

with your heart hammering in your chest, it’s a wonder ginny hasn’t woken up yet.

you pull out your transfiguration textbook quietly, and try your best to focus on the page, rather than the girl laying there on your lap.

it doesn’t work.

but for once, all is well.

eventually, you get absorbed into your studies, distracted enough to miss the girl on your lap beginning to stir.

your brows are furrowed as you scribble down the last words of your essay, and you bring your quill up to your lips before ginny’s hand gently pushes them away, startling you.

“don’t do that, you’ll stain your teeth.”

you blush sheepishly and drop your hand.

“you’re awake.”

ginny smiles.

“well i’m talking to you aren’t i?”

you grin softly.

“i suppose you are.”

ginny rolls her eyes and sighs, her brown eyes locking with yours immediately after.

her hand comes up to tuck a loosed strand of hair behind your ear and suddenly, the air seems to thicken.

for a moment, neither of you move, too caught up in each other’s eyes.

when ginny’s eyes drop down to your lips you can hear your breath catch in your throat.

you feel yourself being pulled in by some invisible force, your eyes dropping down-

then neville knocks on the door, and just like that, the spell is broken.

“y/n- oh hey ginny.”

ginny sits up and darts away from you so quickly you would’ve missed it if you blinked.

“what’s up nev?”

neville shuffles nervously.

“sorry for catching you at a bad time- um it’s just that professor mcgonagall wanted to see-.”

“all right i’ll be there in a minute.”

neville nods and then, it’s back to the two of you.

it’s quiet for a moment before you both speak.

“you should-“

“i really-“

both of you stop and flush a little before you continue.

“i really should go see what that was about.”

ginny nods and gestures for you to leave.

and you do, not before taking her hand and pulling her up into a tight hug.

“i’ll see you later?”

ginny nods.

“yeah. later.”

when the golden trio returns to hogwarts and all hell breaks loose, the two of you are separated.

in fact, you haven’t seen most of the weasleys since the war began.

you’re left alone with neville for the majority of the fight, and you spend most of it worrying about ginny.

one day when you’re just walking along the edge of the forbidden forest, you catch a glimpse of red hair on the opposite side of the field.

your breath catches in your throat.

as you get closer, you can tell who it is.

and then you start running.

your body almost collides with hers as you wrap your arms around her.

at first, there’s relief.

“you’re here you’re here you’re-“

ginny shushes you and pulls you in tighter, drawing out the sob you tried to hard to keep down.

then the relief turns to anger.

and frustration.

you pull away from the hug abruptly and ginny sends a confused look your way.

“ginevra molly weasley! if you ever, ever do that again i’ll-“

“aw, seems like someone missed me.”

you scoff.

“don’t joke! i thought you were killed- gin you have no idea i was so worried- worried about where you were, what you did-“

the rest of your confession is cut off when ginny grabs your tattered tie, pulls you in, and kisses you.

it’s quick.

lips unmoving, it’s really more of a peck than a kiss.

but it still hit you the same way.

ginny pulls back abruptly when you don’t react, but taking the smile that graced your lips as a good sign, leans back in.

this time, you’re ready for her.

your arms wrap around her neck, her’s falling to your waist, and finally, you’re content.

it’s soft and sweet and then there’s tongue and lips and teeth and you really can’t believe this is happening-

“hey y/n! quit snogging my sister!”

ron’s exclamation startles you.

you flush red, and break the kiss, trying to pull away from ginny out of embarrassment, but she keeps an arm firmly attached to your waist.

hermione grins next to ron.

“about time you two. about time.”

harry defeats he who must not voldemort in probably what is the most anticlimactic final battle ever.

but just like that,

the war’s over.

seventh year

propped against a tree, ginny runs a hand through your hair, the other tangled with yours in front of your chest.

“hey.”

ginny smiles softly down at you.

“hey to you too.”

“i love you.”

the red headed girl smiles and leans down to give you a soft kiss before replying.

“i love you too y/n.”

your smile is almost blinding, and out of pure happiness, you confess:

“i’ve loved you since third year gin, did you know that?”

the red headed girl almost looks surprised.

“i was gross third year.”

you scoff and mutter:

“you could never be gross.”

ginny just laughs and leans down again.

“i love you y/n. i really do. i’m sorry it took so long for me to realize.”

you look up at your girlfriend with pure adoration in your eyes.

with her lips on yours and fingers tangled together, it felt like the world was finally at peace again.

ginevra weasley was your happily ever after.

cheesy ending, but i loved writing this one.. i hope you guys like it too <3

#ginny weasley #ginny weasley x reader #ginny weasley imagine #ginny weasley x female reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #hp imagine #harry potter #hp series #ginevra molly weasley #ginny weasley x fem reader

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wh0reyp0tter · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter One: Fucking Dragons

Masterlist for this series

Y/N Y/L/N is chosen as one of the champions in the Triwizard Tournament with one of her best friends, Harry Potter. Along with the struggles of being one of the champions, she also has to navigate her feelings for her best friend, Hermione Granger. But, as far as Y/N knows, Hermione fancies Krum.

Includes: Angst, pining, swearing, wlw, bi!reader (mentions of flirting with men), smut, name-calling, Krum hating, fighting, physical violence, fighting, mentions of injuries, and flirting

_______________________________________________________________

I groan as my head collapses into my hands. I feel a hand on my back as I look up to see Harry looking down at me.

“What’s wrong?” He asks softly.

“Hermione’s off with Krum,” I seethe loudly. Harry laughs softly as he pats my back.

“Well, she does have no idea you fancy her,” Harry points out. I shoot him a glare as I flip him off.

“Shut it, Potter,” I say. Harry and I both were picked for the Triwizard Tournament. We are competing alongside Viktor Krum, Fleur Delacour, and Cedric Diggory.

“Did you hear what the first task is?” Harry says as he sits down. I shake my head as he leans closer to me. “Dragons,” he says quietly. My eyes widen in shock as I look at him.

“Fucking Dragons?” I say loudly. Harry hit my arm as he shushed me.

“Shut up, Y/L/N,” he seethes. I roll my eyes as I let my head fall into my hands again.

“Fucking Dragons, just my luck,” I groan as I shake my head quickly. Harry stands up as he rubs my back.

“I’ll see you later, Y/N/N,” he says. I wave him off as I say goodbye. Hours later I’m sitting in Hermione and I’s dorm room as a lamp flickers softly next to me. I huff in anger as I ball up the paper in front of me and throw it in the bin. I pull out another bit of parchment. I start sketching some ideas before one pops into my head. I sit up brightly as I hear the door get pushed open. I hear it close again as someone appears behind me.

“What are you doing?” I hear Hermione’s soft voice ask.

“Trying to figure out this riddle,” I say, completely focused on the paper in front of me.

“Not really a riddle is it? You just have to get the golden egg from the dragon,” Hermione points out.

“Yeah, but getting something from a dragon! Isn’t that great!” I exclaim, my tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Hey, no need to be an arse, just saying,” Hermione says as she folds her arms over her chest. I shake my head as I begin to think.

“Wand, wand, wands,” I say softly as I tap my head softly.

“Why don’t you use your wand to accio something to help?” She says as she leans against my side.

“Do you think it’s possible to accio the egg?” I ask as I look up at Hermione. She shrugs as she looks down at me. “If not, you could always accio a broom,” she says.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a bloody genius?” I say as I look up and smile at the girl.

“Once or twice,” Hermione responds with a smile. I smile as I laugh and roll my eyes.

“So modest,” I laugh as I yawn.

“You should sleep, Y/N. The first task is tomorrow,” she says as she pats my head.

“Good idea, H,” I say softly as I lean my head against her side. She runs her hand through my hair slowly. I stand up as I shut off my lamp and walk to my bed. I pull back the quilt as I shuffle into my bed.

“Night darling,” Hermione smiles softly.

“Night ‘Mione,” I say as I yawn. My eyes close as I fall asleep.

I blink softly as the light pours in through the windows. I see Hermione still fast asleep. I smile as I walk over to her before shaking her softly.

“Hermione,” I say softly. She rolls over as she whines loudly. “Come on love, we gotta go down for breakfast.” She sits up as she blinks confused before looking at me.

“Hi,” she says sleepily.

“Hey, gorgeous,” I say with a smile. Hermione gives me a sleepy smile as she leans against my torso.

“Ready for breakfast?” She asks as she stands with a yawn.

“Have to get dressed first, darling,” I smile. She shuffles to her closet as I move to the bathroom to pull on my robes. I walk out as Hermione walks in, I toss my hair into a ponytail as I sit on my bed.

“Ready?” Hermione asks as she comes out. I nod as we both make our way to the Great Hall. We walk through the doors before taking our seat with Ron and Harry.

“You excited, Harry?” I say as I look at the brown-haired boy in front of me.

“I have no idea what I’m gonna do,” he groans as he puts his head in his hands.

“I’m on the same boat you are mate,” I say as I reach for a muffin.

“Like, what are we supposed to do with only wands against dragons?” Harry says as he reaches for a scone and takes a bite.

“Accio. That’s what I’m gonna do,” I say before biting into my muffin.

“You’re brilliant,” he says as his eyes lighten.

“Not me, Hermione. She’s the one who brought it up last night,” I smile as I bump into the small girl. She blushes as she smiles at me.

“I just shoved you into the right direction,” Hermione says.

“Come on, H, now's not the time to be modest,” I tease as I poke her arm.

“Shut up,” she murmurs as she blushes. I laugh as Ron and Harry look at us.

“When does the first task start?” Ron asks with a mouthful of food.

“In like, 15 minutes,” Harry replies.

“Chew and swallow before speaking, Ronald,” Hermione scolds as she glares at the ginger. Ron rolls his eyes as he sticks his tongue out, his half chewed food showing. Hermione gags as I laugh softly. After we finish breakfast Harry and I go change into our tournament gear. Once we finish getting ready we make our way to the big white tent.

“Hey Y/N, Hey Harry,” Cedric greets us with a smile.

“Hey Ced,” I smile. I pull him in for a small hug as Harry greets him as well.

“You guys nervous?” He asks as he looks at us.

“A little,” I say softly. Cedric rubs my arm softly as he gives me a smile.

“Thanks for the tip by the way,” Cedric says to Harry quietly.

“No problem,” Harry says as he pats his back. I hear a quiet voice say my name. I look over to see Hermione’s head poking through the back of the tent. I move over quickly.

“Y/N, is that you?” She asks softly.

“Yeah, it’s me, H,” I smile.

“How are you feeling?” Hermione asks as her voice wavers with nerves.

“I’ll be okay, Dove,” I say softly. I watch as she pushes into the tent as she embraces me tightly.

“Please be careful,” she says as she tucks her head under mine. I laugh softly as I hug her tightly.

“I’ll be fine ‘Mione,” I say.

“Glad to know you care about my safety,” Harry chuckles from behind us. We let go as Hermione hugs him tightly.

“You be careful too you git,” Hermione laughs. Harry smiles as he pats her back softly.

“Thanks, H,” he smiles. I hear a faint click as I turn to see Rita Skeeter standing there with her annoying self-writing quill in the air.

“Oh a young love triangle! Y/N Y/L/N, pining after Harry Potter, the chosen one, while he’s in love with Hermione Granger!” She exclaims. Harry glares at her as she clicks another photo.

“I’m not pining after anyone you absolute twat,” I say with an eye roll. Skeeter laughs as she looks at Viktor.

“And this one is pining after Granger!” She exclaims as she clicks a picture of Viktor. His face turns red as he ignores her. I roll my eyes again as I turn back to Hermione. I see her looking at Krum as Harry’s giving me a knowing look.

“Miss. Granger! What are you doing here?” Dumbledor asks as he enters the tent.

“I was just leaving, professor. Good luck Y/N, good luck Harry,” she says with a soft smile.

“Each of you will be picking a dragon, this will be the dragon who will be protecting the golden egg you need to capture in order to make it to the first task,” Dumbledor says. We each nod before Hagrid presents us with a brown bag. Cedric pulled out the Swedish Short-Snout. Next was Fleur who pulled out the Common Welsh Green. After her, Viktor pulled out the Chinese Fireball. Harry had pulled out a Hungarian Horntail, the meanest dragons of them all. Next I pulled out Hebridean Black. I close my eyes in frustration as I look over at Harry. Of course we got the two most dangerous dragons. We each hand our dragons to our coaches, mine and Harry’s being Madeye. I shake my head quickly before Cedric’s name is called to compete.

“Good luck Ced,” I say as I pat the tall boy’s back. He shoots me a smile before walking out of the tent as the crowd erupts in cheers. I move to watch as he stands in front of the huge sleeping dragon. After a few moments the dragon looks at Cedric before letting out a loud roar as a large flame ignites in the air. Cedric is quick to draw his wand before casting a spell on a nearby rock. I watch as the rock shakes and grows four legs before a large head appears. The body follows quickly as the former rock turns into a grey dog. It barks loudly causing the dragon’s attention to shift off Cedric. He darts towards the egg quickly, he picks it up in his hands before holding up above his head with a smile. The crowd erupts into cheers and screams. I watch as the dragon turns to look at Cedric. It lets out another large flame as it hits his face. He doubles over in pain as someone quickly casts the sleeping spell on the dragon. Cedric is ushered into the tent again as he holds the egg in one hand and his face in the other.

“You did brilliant Ced!” Harry exclaims as he walks towards the injured boy.

“Thanks Harry,” Cedric says with a bright smile. Harry’s face turns red as I walk over.

“Good thinking Ced, that was awesome!” I cheer as I pat the boy on the back. I watch as Madame Pompfrey gives him a potion that he downs quickly.

“Thanks, Y/N/N. I can’t wait to see what you have in mind,” he coughs as he wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his robes.

“Nothing as good as yours,” I smile. He shakes his head with a small smile as the burn on his face disappears. Fleur’s name is called as I talk with Cedric and Harry. Once she returns I congratulate her as she smiles and hugs me softly.

“Thank you, your name is Y/N, yes?” Fleur says with a small smile.

“Yeah, I’m Y/N, sorry we haven’t formally met,” I say as I rub the back of my neck softly.

“It is okay, it has been very hectic lately,” she replies as a small giggle leaves her lips.

“Yeah it has, just wanted to say the sleep enchantment was brilliant,” I smile.

“Thank you very much. I can not wait to see what you have in mind!” The veela smiles at me happily.

“Nothing as brilliant as you,” I reply.

“I am sure that is not true,” she gives me a small smile as she hugs me softly. Viktor is called out next, the buff boy walks out as the crowd erupts in cheers. I roll my eyes as I look at Harry.

“You and Fleur sure do seem cozy,” he teases. I roll my eyes as I punch his arm.

“Shut up Potter,” I scoff with a blush.

“Thought you were into ‘Mione?” He says as he leans against me.

“I am but she’s into Krum, haven’t you noticed?” I roll my eyes.

“Just an infatuation, he’s different,” Harry says as he flicks my forehead. I pinch his arm as he flinches before shooting a glare at me. After a little while longer Krum emerges with a smug smirk and a golden egg tucked under his arm.

“Conjunctive curse! Good idea mate!” Cedric smiles as he pats Krum’s back.

“Thank you,” he replies with a nod.

“Good job getting points docked too,” I laugh. Viktor shoots me a glare as he scoffs and bumps his shoulder into mine aggressively. Harry snickers softly before his name is called. “Go on Harry! You got this!” I cheer loudly as I pat his back.

“Thanks Y/N/N,” he smiles as he hugs me tightly before he walks out. More cheers and yells are heard as I watch. The dragon makes eye contact as he begins to run around the dragon. I watch as the dragon chases him before spitting fire at him. I hold my breath as he ducks behind a big rock. I watch him pull out his wand before he screams something. I watch as his broom flies through the air towards him. I smile as he grabs it and jumps on. He whizzes through the air quickly. I smile as I cheer loudly. He flies around the arena before my eyes widen as the dragon breaks away from the chains holding it down. It flies towards him as he whizzes away quickly. My heart sinks as I watch nervously.

“It’s gonna be okay, he’s Harry Potter,” Cedric says as he walks up behind me.

“I know, I’m just nervous,” I say softly. I feel a hand slip into mine as it squeezes tightly. A few minutes later Harry flies back quickly as he ducks down and grabs the egg before pulling up quickly. Cedric and I cheer loudly as I watch him hold it up triumphantly. He lands as he runs back into the tent.

“Did you see that?” Harry exclaims loudly.

“Hell yeah we did!” I yell. I hug him tightly as I smile. “You did great!” I feel my nerves set in as I realize it’s my turn.

“Don’t worry, you got this,” Cedric smiles down at me. I take a deep breath as the two boys hug me tightly. I hear my name get called as I take a deep breath. I push open the tent as I smile brightly and wave at the crowd. They all begin to cheer loudly as I see the Gryffindor section letting a banner down that says ‘Let’s go Y/L/N!’. I smile happily as I look in front of me to see the big black dragon standing in front of the egg. I take a deep breath as I draw my wand. I take a step forward as I watch it stand straighter as it glares down on me.

“Come on Y/N, you can do this,” I whisper. I look the dragon in the eyes as I stare into them. The dragon lets out a deep huff as it stares back at me. I take a few steps forward. It lunges at me as I keep my stance, acting unfazed. I hear the crowd gasp as they all watch intently. I move to the left side of the dragon before I point my wand at the large dragon.

“Diminuendo!” I call. I watch a thin white stream leave my wand before wrapping itself around the dragon. It shrinks as a loud cheer comes from the crowd. I dart for the golden egg, not knowing how long the dragon would stay under the spell. I pick it up quickly as I turn around and hold it up. I smile brightly as I look around. I turn back to see the dragon back to it’s full size. My eyes widen as I dart away quickly. I hear a loud roar before I feel a faint feeling of warmth on my back. I turn and look at the dragon as I point my wand at it again before screaming

“Duro!” I watch as the dragon slowly turns to stone. I smile brightly as I quickly duck into the tent.

“Merlin Y/N! That was brilliant!” Harry says loudly as he pats my shoulder.

“Yeah Y/N/N! That was insane!” Cedric says as he beams down at me.

“It wasn’t big and flashy like you guys though,” I say with a light blush.

“You used what we didn’t think to!” Harry says happily.

“Y/N! You did incredible!” Fleur exclaims as she hugs me tightly.

“Thank you,” I blush as I hug the tall veela back. I see Viktor rolling his eyes. I smirk to myself as I look at Harry.

“Really Y/N, that was brilliant,” Cedric smiles.

“Thanks Ced,” I say with a small smile. “How’s your face?” I bring my hand up to brush the part that was hit by the flame.

“Fine now, it’s completely gone,” he smiles down at me. They announce that we all will make it to the next task as we cheer loudly. We retreat back to Hogwarts before Harry and I make our way to our dorm, with the golden eggs in our arms.

#hermione granger #hermione granger x you #hermione granger x reader #hermione granger x fem!reader #hermione granger fanfic #hermione granger fanfiction #hermione granger angst #hermione granger fluff #hermione granger pining #angst #pining #fluff #wlw

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justthehiddleswrites · 4 years ago

Text

Dancing With Myself | Stephen Strange x Reader

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader

Summary: Stephen goes out with Wong for some groceries and comes back to find his cloak and the reader up to some shenanigans.

Warnings: none

“Are you going to be okay while I step out?” Stephen asked standing at the doorway of the large reading room. You peeked your eyes over the large volume in your lap.

“Are you genuinely concerned about me or the Sanctum?” Stephen quirked an eyebrow. “One time… one time you light a room on fire…”

“A room!?” Stephen started in. “Try an entire floor. I told you not to try that incantation. I told you weren’t ready. Did you even read the warnings?”

“They should put the warnings at the beginning of the spell.”

“They really should.” Stephen agreed. His long strides carried him across the room. He sat on the back of the chaise where you were sprawled out. “But to answer your question, I am genuinely concerned about you.” The sharp angles of his face softened as he leaned down to press his lips to yours, folding his tall, lean form to reach you.

“Thank you, love. I think I can manage the few hours it takes you and Wong to go grocery shopping.”

“Sure you don’t want to come along with us?”

“Positive. Just because I’m dating a Sorcerer Supreme,” Stephen rolled his eyes. “does not mean I get to slag off on my studies.”

“Fair enough. Although you can just slip into the teacher’s office after hours for a little extra credit.” Stephen purred into your ear.

With a quick motion, you pulled him over the sofa back and on top of you. Your nails dug into his back through the thin shirt he wore rather than his robes. Fewer layers to get through. As you tongues dancing in each other’s mouth and hands tangled into each other’s hair, a cough cut through the passion. Stephen’s head snapped to see Wong leaning against the doorway.

“If the two of you are done defiling that antique chaise, I would like to get to the store sometime in the next decade.”

“Duty calls.” Stephen muttered against your lips.

“More like hunger calls.” You muttered back.

Stephen pushed himself off of you and walked towards Wong but not before you landed a playful swat on his ass. He whipped around and narrowed his eyes while you giggled.

“I can’t help myself!”

“Try harder.”

The Cloak of Levitation floated by and Stephen waved it over.

“Keep an eye on her, we don’t want a repeat of last time.”

“Hey!”

“Bye, darling!” Stephen disappeared from view with Wong.

Once you overheard the door open, shut, and click closed, you returned your attention to your studies. A soft corner nudged your chin. You peeked sideways at the cloak.

“I have studies.” The nudge turned into a poke. You brushed the cloak aside.

“I really have to get this done.” you commented with a smirk on your face.

Now the cloak tugged on your arm. You landed on the floor, head squashed and legs akimbo.

“Ow. That hurt.” The cloak continued to drag you across the floor. “Fine! Fine! I yield.”

It stopped and allowed you to stand up and brush off the dust from your apprentice robes. Damn, Stephen needed to clean better. The cloak floated in front of you, waiting.

“What would you like to do?”

It shrugged its shoulders.

“All that and you don’t even have a plan. I’m disappointed.” you huffed in mock disappointment. “But since we’re up, I have a perfect idea.” You grabbed a corner and jerked the cloak up the stairs towards your bedroom.

One Hour Later

“See Wong,” Stephen shoved him in the shoulder. “that didn’t take nearly as long as you thought.”

“Perhaps that is because you portaled yourself around the store.”

“To-may-to, toe-mah-toe. The important thing is we got those cookies you like.” Stephen jerked to poke Wong in the side but Wong blocked him.

“Well there’s no smoke coming from the Sanctum. A good sign.” Wong commented as they turned the corner.

Stephen smirked. He loved you more than he ever told you. In fact, he hadn’t said those words yet to you. He wanted it to mean something. He loved how you tried so hard to be perfect at mystic arts and how distracted you got reading. Or how clumsy you were in heels, trying to be as tall as him. And the way you laughed.

“Earth to Stephen.” Wong waved his hand in front of his face.

“Huh?” Stephen shook himself out of the daze.

“The door.” Wong motioned to the large wooden and heavy front door of the Sanctum. “My arms are kind of full.” He held up multiple bags.

“Right, of course.” He fumbled the keys before pushing the door open.

“When are you going to tell her?” Wong prodded.

“Tell who what?” Stephen deflected.

Wong chuckled as he headed to the kitchen. “Your girlfriend. That you love her.”

Stephen’s mouth dropped. “I don’t— How did you—” His words drifted into the air as Stephen caught a noise from upstairs. He motioned in the air for his cloak but it did not float down from its hiding spot.

“Interesting.”

He climbed the stairs towards the apprentice living quarters. The two of you, well you, had insisted on keeping separate quarters even after becoming intimate. This was much to Stephen’s chagrin, who would prefer to have you close. For many reasons.

The music, if one could call it that, echoed off the empty hallway and appeared to be emanating from your room. The light shot out as a sliver from underneath bounced off the floor, walls and ceiling. The door was open a hair. Enough for him to push it open with just a finger. He was not prepared for what he saw.

His cloak around your shoulders. And you moving to the music like a woman possessed. To pop music. He leaned against the wall and waited for you to notice but your eyes were closed, lost in the music and the motion. It was perfect.

The song faded and Stephen shifted his weight, certain he had caught your eye by now but he stopped as you sang the next song.

You’re the light, you’re the night

You’re the color of my blood

You’re the cure, you’re the pain

You’re the only thing I wanna touch

Never knew that it could mean so much, so much

He could hear the passion in your voice, and he slipped into the room. As the next verse played he came around and just as the chorus hit, he slid his arm around your waist, spinning you to face him.

You screamed until you realized it was Stephen. His eyes watery. “Are you okay?”

“Love Me Like You Do. Ellie Goulding. 1995.” and he pulled you up into a passionate kiss. He fisted the back of your robes underneath the cloak and breathed in all that was you. The room was spinning and as Ellie belted out “what are you waiting for.” Stephen pulled back.

“Uh—”

“I love you.” Stephen interrupted.

“I love you too.” you commented back, smiling. He pulled you back against him. His fingers traced the curves of your brow, your cheek, your chin and finally your lips, which he soon replaced with his own lips. He pulled away sharply.

“And you are moving into my room. No more of this separate quarters nonsense. I want you close. To me. In all manner of things.”

“Fine.”

“And I expect you to dance like that for me every night. Naked.” Stephen’s eyebrows raised.

Your cheeks hot, and the room spun again. You couldn’t resist a little tease of your own. “You’re the boss. Sir.” you smiled as Stephen’s face lit up.

“I like the sound of that.” He growled in your ear. His thumbs pressed into your hips and he bucked forward. A prelude for later that day.

#dr. stephen strange #stephen strange #stephen strange fanfiction #stephen strange fanfic #stephen strange fluff #stephen strange x reader

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

Text

masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

previously on...

Witchy stuff! Disclaimer: I am not a witch so please do not take my theory of theory seriously. This has been taken off first page of Google, which is where I did my research. First ironstrange x reader interaction & tony being sweet and stephen radiating wife energy.

fun fact: the moodboards are just chapter spoilers without context.

Whatever protection spell the book had, it was nuclear. Burn cream didn't do much in terms of numbing the pain; I had to wear gloves throughout my shift at the café, self-conscious about the skin peeling off my palms and the light, sensitive fingertips. Saying that the day was hellish would have been too kind.

My spirits were briefly lifted when one of my favourite mad scientists walked in, nose buried in a StarkPad - his chattier, more confident friend nowhere to be seen. Doctor Bruce Banner lifted his eyes from his work only to give a brief, polite smile and mumble his order, immediately resuming the poking of the screen.

"You forgot something last time," I couldn't suppress the grin. Sometimes routine was nice, comfortable. The napkin with unintelligible scribbles and formulas in my hand was transferred to Banner's pocket with a shy smile and a reddish tint to his cheeks, as if he didn't find himself in this very situation more often than not. "Is Mr. Stark okay?" I voiced my concerns, having noticed the recent, acute absence of the rowdy man in the café. Dr. Banner rarely came here alone and it was more of a telling exception than anything.

"Oh, Tony? Yes, he's fine," the scientist nodded absentmindedly. "He's on a small vacation with his boyfriend," the last part was said with puzzlement and incredulity and I had to remind myself that a forty-something scientist was unlikely to possess at least a halfway decent gaydar. I mean, I would have eaten my shoe if Tony Stark was 100% straight.

The fact that Tony having a boyfriend surprised Dr. Banner, who appeared to be one of Mr. Stark's best friends, was quite funny to me. "Good for him, he deserves it after saving the world, like, a bajillion times," I replied honestly, attempting to hide my good-natured snicker at Banner's obliviousness. Scientists, they just are a different breed, man.

The perplexion melted off Banner's face, leaving only supportive contentment. "That is correct," he nodded confidently, exchanging a bill for his matcha. "Thank you. And, uh, congrats on your new job," he added with another one of his not-quite shy smiles.

My cheerfulness vacated the premises shortly afterwards as I struggled to keep up with the endless stream of customers all the while my hands throbbed and burned under the nitrile gloves. I was ready to call it a day and just tell Jeremy I had an accident, but my pride wouldn't let me. I arrived at Odette's feeling less than stellar, running purely on spite and several cups of espresso.

It went about as good as expected, select few customers growing clouds over their heads at the slow pace I was assembling their orders: the fact that even witches had Karens of their kind was a fact that I found both amusing and alarming. It wasn't particular comfortable, knowing that I, or any other wait staff, was always at risk of being cursed for bringing them the wrong kind of cake or messing up their white suburban mom coffee.

"You could have asked, you know," Odette's slow drawl startled me out of the trance I'd put myself in to avoid focusing on the discomfort. "Come here, girl, I'll take care of it."

My face heated up immediately as I realized the tender skin of my grubby little hands was on full display. Odette must've put two and two together, seeing my sins written all over my scarred hands and my guilty face. Not wanting to invoke a negative reaction and get on her scary bad side, I let myself obediently trot into her office.

"I, uh," the eloquence of my speech - spectacular. I was ready to fall through the floor out of of shame.

"It happens sometimes," a round jar of what looked like buckwheat honey landed on the table. Odette massaged the thick gel into my palms with gentle circular motions, shushing my hums of pain in-between. "The book called for me in the same way it called to you. The only difference, it was my grandmother's at the time so the protection wards did not go off because I was family." My eyebrows rose at the calm in Odette's voice. Composed as ever, the witch looked more amused than upset by my little snooping stint.

The pain in my hands disappeared completely, a cool sensation I could only describe as minty enveloping them and spreading throughout my body. The chill was pleasant - I hadn't even realized my body had been running on higher-than-usual temperatures ever since I touched the book. Those protection wards Odette spoke of, they really packed a punch!

"I will teach you," she must've interpreted my stunned silence as curiosity, having made up her own mind in the seconds I was basking in my newfound relief. "We'll start slow. The transition from the material world into the spiritual isn't easy," Odette warned, locking her fingers, her magnetic eyes commandeering mine for utmost attention. "But it is incredibly rewarding. If you follow the rules, you will prosper. Our kind isn't plentiful these days, with people praying to gods that condone greed and selfishness," her lip curled in distaste. "Each one of us can make a large difference in this world. The opportunities you have been given need to be taken seriously."

My lip caught between my teeth as I mulled over the words my boss spoke with so my concern and conviction. Nothing in her speech sounded amiss; sure as she was, I was still mercifully given a choice. Odette's aura, that used to seem suffocating and dense, grew around me into a non-physical hug, a comfort akin to a mother supporting her child taking their first steps.

I eyed the sixty-something year-old, tall, imposing woman, scanning her for any deceitfulness, exhilaration and wariness sitting on my shoulders and whispering into my ears. True to myself, I gave into the side that craved and lived for adventure. "I would love to learn," hoping my voice conveyed the excitement and hopefulness of being a part of something special.

Odette smiled kindly. "I knew that," with a chuckle to herself, she reached into a set of drawers and extracted a few worn, plain notebooks. "Homework," the wink she threw at me instantly took ten years off her face. I couldn't even bring myself to sigh, only the sludge still covering my palms preventing me from making grabby hands in the direction of new information.

The bell rang before I could make another comment and I was let go with the instructions to wash my hands - and that's exactly what I did, having noted the short Asian man impatiently tapping his foot next to the front desk.

The man's name was Wong and he was the sole reason for my uncontrollable flares of temper during my work hours at the bodega. Odette herself avoided him like the plague, and for a good reason: his attitude was nothing short of conceited, as if the weird robes that he wore were some kind of a hall-pass to be a demanding asshole when it came to the store's wares.

Wong could spend up to forty minutes inspecting the baggies containing herbs and other knick-knacks, meticulously picking out what he considered best and curtly insulting the items he found to be lacking in quality. I was made aware he belonged to some sort of a sect or a cult of honest-to-god wizards; as if him looking like a worker of the Ministry of Magic didn't make that fact obvious. I was unpleasantly surprised at the fact that even witches, much like doctors, had elitist pricks among their kind - and Odette had the audacity to simply vanish whenever one of those robed people set foot in the shop, leaving me to use all my mental strength to try and not strangle the wannabe Karens.

I was willing to bet my favourite star-patterned scarf that Wong hexed the waiters who made him wait longer that he considered appropriate. I just knew it.

The anger, the frustration and at times, blind, total rage came in useful - and that was a surprise to me. According to Odette's notebooks, everyone had the potential to master magick - to an extent, each individual's threshold was, well, individual - but the more a witch was in tune with her emotions, her feelings, the higher the success rate of her spells grew.

The notebooks contained enough information for me to understand that Odette was considered a High Priestess (not to be confused with Head of the Coven - not all witches wanted to be a part of those) and the amount of power she held was quite impressive. No, she couldn't turn back time, she couldn't raise the dead; the people she helped and healed were, oftentimes, made well at the expense of her own life energy. It was an endless cycle of emptying a glass and refilling it back up. The deities lended a hand with that.

Some time after I'd gone through the theory, Odette encouraged me to choose a direction I was to study in depth; much like her, I was interested in the defensive rather than the offensive. Healing spells, protection wards and the occasional light hex to deter enemies from reoffending: I was disappointed but not surprised to learn the fact that curses and serious harm done to other people quite often backfired, harming the caster themselves as well as their victim.

I had always believed in karma, to a healthy extent, but these days I was that much more aware of how I treated those around me. That's not to say I became a pushover - I simply chose to smile rather than frown at the world and replaced my longing and envy with a sense of gratitude towards the things I already possessed. Just like Odette had said, layering the spiritual values over my material, earthly ones wasn't easy - it was hard work, and what prevented me from stopping when I felt exhausted was that it actually paid off.

As I got ready to cast my first serious spell, I ran through a mental checklist of things I developed - of sorts. Positive vibes only. Having vengeful intentions when warding off potential harm-doers was not only dangerous, it was counterproductive. Intentions mattered the most when casting a spell and I could end up killing all the innocent, stray cats in the area instead of making a burglar choose the neighbouring building some five months down the line.

The spell, I considered to be a success. The atmosphere in my home lightened, the dingy walls of my rental started radiating comfort and safety I hadn't felt since moving out of my parents' home. A slight tiredness persisted for a few days after the last candle burned out; Odette reassured that it was perfectly normal as I was a baby witch and my energy channels were adapting, growing to accommodate my newfound awareness and flow of cosmic energies that I was training to harness.

Next on my list was a personal protection charm, an antique silver locket adorned with stars I had scavenged in a local pawn shop. Odette had given me instructions on how to cleanse potential magical conductors: the amount of rings and jewelry she wore directly correlated to the power of a singular spell she could cast. There was a fine hairline between charging your accessories and letting them drain you and I learned to walk South of it the hard way, but as all learning processes go, eventually I found my middle ground and was successful.

My daily routine grew small rituals like the forest trees grew moss. Slow and steady, I was transitioning from a curious baby witch into a self-sufficient practitioner of magic. Sounds crazy, I know, coming from someone who could barely believe into aliens until Thor himself had walked into the coffee shop and ordered a latte, but as all things do in life - I changed.

Working the morning shift allowed me to discreetly place a few of the good-luck charms I had made during my most recent creative stint. While they didn't have a direct effect on the customers or their tipping habits, the atmosphere on the cafe's premises had lightened enough that even Jeremy's usually sour face tipped more towards neutral these days.

The smile blossomed on my face without effort as I caught the tell-tale bespoke suit and sunglasses of the man waltzing through the doors of the café as if he owned the place. "Nice to see you, Mr. Stark. Enjoy your vacation?" I asked the smirking man, giving a respectful once-over to the tall, lithe man holding onto his shoulder.

"It's Tony," the happiness was radiating off him in waves. "Missed my favourite coffee shop and the world's nicest barista," he winked at me, causing the man behind him snort, steely blue eyes studying me in turn. "Had to introduce my two favourite people," the engineer took a step back, parting his arms with a flourish gesture. "Stephen, Starlight. Starlight, Stephen," he spoke before rattling off his usual order. And a cake on top.

I gave an amused grin to the man obviously humoring his significant other, as Stephen mock-bowed in my direction. "You're right, how could we be together without the approval of your favourite barista?" Stephen had his wits. I decided I definitely liked him. "Starlight? Is that a nickname or were your parents hippies?" Okay, witty bordering on rude. Was Stephen a lawyer?

"Now, now, honey," the crinkles around Tony's eyes deepened as he barked out a laugh. "No need to be jealous. We're all adults here, we can share. There's enough of me for everyone."

I rolled my eyes, easily slipping into the familiar banter. "Speak for yourself, Mr. Stark. I'm very selfish," I cocked an eyebrow, tilting my head to the side and pretending to size up Stephen. "You've outdone yourself this time," Stephen's eyebrows rose. The line between 'sizing up' and 'checking out' was so very fine and I walked it well, a quiet sort of confidence that had bloomed within me at the recent events in my life letting me be slightly bolder that allowed myself to be before. "I'd have to be the Devil myself to break up such a blessed union. My congratulations," my smirk grew into a warm smile as Tony beamed at me in return, content on showing off his most recent acquisition.

Who, by the way, looked a little bit lost. Evidently, Stephen did not expect such a degree of familiarity between me and Tony; which was, to be honest, most likely what had him returning to the establishment over and over. Come for the coffee, stay for the company. Or how was it?

The energy between Tony and Stephen was electric. There was something undoubtedly attractive, magnetic even, about the tall, steely-eyed man, something similar to Odette's charismatic pull but without the overwhelming ossification of the air around her. Even putting aside the fact that Stephen was a visually stunning person with his sculpted phisique and high, sharp cheekbones, he commandeered the attention to himself without even uttering a word. Definitely a lawyer, with how the type could hold the whole courtroom together with a single look.

The early birds on a Friday were few and in-between; the three of us chatted as the two men sipped their coffees with muted noises of joy. According to Tony, Fiji was delightful this time of the year. Oblivious to everything around him, the engineer rambled about his ventures without a care in the world as his partner looked up to him with earnest happiness and I- well, I wished I could go to Fiji, hot boyfriend optional. The weather in NYC was slowly becoming dreary: I did not look forward to winter sludge and the traffic congestions that it created.

"And I love what you've done with the interior. Those cat statues? Charming," Tony rambled, pointing out the good-luck charms I'd placed all over the café. Small knick-knacks I carefully selected to match the overall vibe of the room. "Tell Jeremy I send my regards. Appreciate the lack of paps, too," he winked at me, looking visibly relieved.

"Huh?" The rag in my hands froze. "I haven't seen a single paparazzi around here, since, like, ever," I admitted, puzzled.

"And I appreciate it. Ever since our thing became public knowledge, they've been hounding me wherever I go," the eyeroll Tony made was truly powerful. "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it," and again, the engineer winked at me, apparently having made some assumptions of his own. "I won't tell if you won't."

The puzzlement persisted within me all throughout my shift. I lived in NYC, for fuck's sake, I wasn't unfamiliar with how things ran around here.

Every establishment I worked in had been swarmed with the annoying, persistent celebrity hunters at some point - and yellow press and paparazzi were, by far, the worst. Some of the greedier ones could go as far as to shove simple folk out of the way or order a cup of coffee with their camera hiding under the tablecloth to sneak in a juicy picture of a celebrity just trying to have their brunch in peace. I hated those vultures with a passion; their negative energy, their lack of morals when it came to hunting for a new scandal that would make them a few hundred bucks.

The only way to even slightly deter them was to repeatedly call the cops on them for public disturbance. I'd done it once or twice, egged on by Jerry and his worry of losing profit - after all, there were establishments known specifically for high rates of celebrity sightings and if any of the superheroes wanted to make an appearance, they would just go there for their cup of overpriced coffee and defrosted sponge cake. Our café was strictly for comfort and leisure - a rare thing me and my boss actually agreed upon.

As I said warm goodbyes to my favourite engineer and his newfound, dashing boyfriend, the cat statues stared at me in mute satisfaction, their hollow eyes radiating smugness and their immobile mouths stretched in what looked like pure, mocking mischief.

Taglist is open until the story is finished. Spare comment? 🥺

@couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

#bun writes #practical alchemy #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #stephen strange x reader x tony stark #tony stark x reader #Stephen Strange x reader #Tony Stark x you #Stephen Strange x you

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heyheyloki · 4 years ago

Text

Dark Star

Summary: The prince of the Clover Kingdom and Yami speak on important matters.

Yami Sukehiro x M!Reader

Word Count: 2701

The Clover Kingdom. A place were magic ran through the streets from the royal kingdom to the forbidden realm. Under the rule of the Wizard King, Julius Novochrono, peaceful times were possible. During those peaceful times made an unexpected miracle occur, the first prince of the Clover Kingdom was born. He was born with exceptional magic power, much like his father, as well as inheriting his father’s kind and gentle nature. As well as an extreme fondness for magic.

There was no easy way of saying that a lot was expected of him. Both from his own kingdom that he would one day rule, and those of his Magic Knights that his father commanded. Each of the captains had high expectations for him, as well as deep respect for the young man that would command them one day. Though, there was one captain didn’t care much for that. Captain of the Black Bulls, Yami Sukehiro.

It was a shock to you at first when you were old enough to understand your title, your status. You tried way too hard to try to make Yami respect you on the level the other captains do. It was entertaining to your father for a while, and just overtime it became a normal thing. Yami would always be calling you stupid nicknames, beat down on you for the smallest things like height or lack of muscle, but the one thing that got under your skin was the way he effortlessly able to disrespect you in front of other royals. It was one thing when it was just in front of your father, but another to do it with high standing royals around.

You were going to be the Wizard King one day. With your skill, power, influence, and trust within the people, no one doubted that you would be next in line. They were excited of course, you were Julius’s son, they believed you would accomplish what your father had and then some. Though, when you were around the captain of the Black Bulls, some second-thoughts grew. Simply, they thought of you still a mere child, despite you reaching the age of twenty, they still saw some childish antics within you shine disgracefully with Yami.

For this reason alone, you called Yami down to the royal capital. You knew you needed to get some things straight with him, even if you had to detach yourself from the budding joy you found within his teasing. He was the only one that made you feel like you could forget your title, sure, but you knew that if it kept up it could cost you more then what you were willing to lose.

As you were dealing with paperwork in your office, a transmission spell appeared in front of you with Marx’s face clear to see. You gazed up from the endless white sheets filled with headache inducing black ink, happy just to have a new sight in front of you.

“What’s wrong, Marx?” You asked with a soft smile. You were always fond of your father’s handler. He was kind, and always tried to put your father in his place when it came to his duties about being the Wizard King. In truth, he was like family to you in way.

“Sir, the captain of the Black Bulls has just arrived.” He explained with a deadpanned expression. You knew he wasn’t a fan whenever Yami came to the capital, after all, he tends to poke fun at Marx’s haircut.

“Thank you,” you hummed out. “I’ll be right there.”

You watched as Marx nodded in conformation before ending the call, his magic dying in turn. When you stood up from your desk, you paused. Your hands laid flat against your wooden desk, chest falling as you took in careful breaths to calm your racing heart that pounded with anticipation, anxiety, and excitement all in one. Once you knew you had a grip on your emotions, locking them away in a steel prison, you patted down on your clothes to rid any dishevelment before traveling the halls that led outside.

Your footsteps were loud in your ears throughout the entire way, though, that didn’t stop you from rising your head and keeping your eyes forward. When you reached the outside of the palace, you paused and locked your eyes on the man before you. He was as disorganized and without a care in the world. Normally, all magic knights have some sorta of uniform throughout their entire squad. Yami was different. He allowed his squad to wear whatever they pleased, as long as they had on the Black Bull’s robe. He was absolutely no exception to this. All he had on was a simple white tank top that showed off his wide, muscular shoulders and black pants.

You gulped hard, taking in a final breath as you watched him approach you. The cigarette that hung in his mouth was taken between his fingers, the white smoke leaving his mouth and nose before disappearing into the air.

“Whatcha summon me for, princey? I was planning on playing the gentleman’s game of chance, yanno.” Yami asked, his tone unwavering in the ears of the prince.

“You could do well to show his highness at least some respect.” Marx uttered out at the captain.

“Shut it, Mushroom-head. Princey and I are about to have a conversation.” Yami calmly said. “I bet Julius needs some supervising, why don’t you go and leave us be?”

Marx was held his tongue reluctantly in your presence. His eyes darted towards yours, asking if you wished him to leave. You stared at him for a moment before nodding your head, leaving Yami and you outside of the palace.

“Let’s take a walk.” You said calmly, your voice smooth and down to its natural pitch. You began to walk forward, your feet guiding you past Yami’s body without any other words.

When you past him, it was like as if the air had turned unbelievably cold against his skin. It was an odd sensation, and one he was frankly not fond of. His charcoal hues made sure to never let you leave his line of sight, watching as your back faced him in such a distant manner that left a sour taste across his tongue. In that moment, he took a puff of his cigarette, his mind numbing as he stopped his thoughts from wondering.

“Whatever you say,” he muttered under his breath before his own body started to catch up to your own.

You both walked into the common realm side by side in mild conversation. You greeted your people with a gentle smile and calm demeanor, some afraid to approach you with Yami at your side. But, what got away from you was the small glares he was making at people who tried to approach you. It wasn’t long after when both of you came to a food stall and grabbed something to eat, the chance to talk to one another in peace finally came around.

“What you wanna talk about anyway?” Yami asked. “You better not have dragged me out here for nothing. I’ve a very busy guy, yanno.”

You rolled your eyes. “Busy doing what? Gambling?”

“Ouch, and here I thought you knew me better, Princey.” Yami chuckled, his shoulder bumping into yours in a playful manner.

You sighed, patting your shoulder to numb the rushing heat that came from that single area. After a moment of silence, you took in a deep breath and said, “What I requested and frankly, command you to do, if not that complicated.”

“Oh? And what would that be?” Yami asked with a coy grin across his lips, his eyes shining with something hopefully that caused butterflies to rumble within your stomach.

You composed yourself once more. You were the prince of the Clover Kingdom. You were a prince, for God’s sake. One man, a man that was older and a long time friend should not be able to effect someone like you like this. Then again, he was. And it was seriously starting to get under your skin.

“The other royals think little of me.” You said. Yami’s smirk quickly dying. “They believe me to be a mere child, even if I am an adult, they see me like an irresponsible child that is not fit to run the kingdom.”

“How come? You do something to piss them off?” He asked curiously.

“Not exactly.” You hummed. Your voice growing uncomfortably cold when you hissed out, “It’s because of you.”

“Me?” Yami questioned with widened eyes.

You nodded. “They think my being around you is causing me to become influenced by the Black Bull’s rough nature. I’m not asking much. All I request of you is to act professional around me when it comes to outings in public. Stop your advances.”

Yami remained quiet. The only sounds you were able to hear were the faint sound of your people chattering with one another over the deafening loud intake of nicotine from Yami. His breath louder than any yell that Asta has made in your presence.

Then, he moved. You thought he would leave and just follow your orders. You prayed, hoped even that he would just obey you and walk away. Save you the heartache of standing next to him and not be yourself with the only one you could truly be the real you around. Not some prince. Not the next leader of the Clover Kingdom. Just, you.

However, that was just wishful thinking. It felt like a volcano was suddenly woken up within you when you felt his large, muscular hand stand across your lower back. It was like as if he didn’t have his dark magic anymore, but flame instead, causing his fingertips to have the smallest flames upon them. It was slower than normal, at least in your mind it felt like that before he hooked his fingers roughly into your side and tugged you into him.

A small grunt came from your chest when you felt your body and his connect. The cold air that was taunting both of your bodies completely gone, now, only warmth enveloped you. Though, it wasn’t comforting. It was hot, steamy, and frankly uncomfortable. You knew it was your nerves that ruined the experience, but in a way you knew this wouldn’t be as calming as you would have liked. Overtime though, you suspected it would get to that stage.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” he paused. His breath low and rough against your ear, “but the last time I checked, I don’t take orders from you.”

You felt your hues widen for a split moment, your throat downing a large gulp that made you even more nervous. You knew Yami liked to have his fun, to flirt and make mild advances from time to time. And yeah, perhaps it made you eventually fall for the boorish man, but he had never escalated to this much contact before. It felt weirdly good, though, you did suspect yourself of turning into puffy before the man that grabbed you when he started to slowly lower his large hand. Gripping into your clothes harder with every passing second.

You weren’t about to sit around and let him do whatever he pleased. Especially if it met he gained the upper hand in the situation.

Quickly, you swallowed your nerves and gazed up at the man. For a moment, the look in his eyes startled you to the point of goosebumps across your royal skin. It was as if hundreds of emotions piled onto one another to create the perfect gaze that was both seductive and terrifying. Still, in all your years of living, you had never backed down from a fight.

You did your best to hide your immediate reaction and quickly change it into a cocky, yet frustrated expression that painted on your face. You couldn’t help but still feel that unease pit that rested in your stomach, though. You thought, maybe even for a second, that he knew.

“I’m just asking a simple request.” You stated. “One day, when you do order to me, I will get you back for this, Yami.”

Yami kept his gaze onto you, a low hum rumbling from deep within his chest before gripping a bit rougher around your waist. Your bodies basically having no room to breathe on their own.

“It’s not that simple.” He stated. “Who cares what those damn nobles say anyway? Aren’t you the prince of the Clover Kingdom? I thought you were the one that gets to decide what you do and don’t.”

“Well, I do require the trust of my people and that does tend to include ‘damn nobles’. All I ask is to respect me as you would my father when others are around.” You explained.

“Yeah, well,” Yami started out saying. His eyes flickering for a moment away from your eyes. “That ain’t gonna happen.”

“And why’s that? I am your prince, yanno.” You asked, a questionable look in your eyes. It was one thing for Yami to tease you, but this was getting ridiculous. He was supposed to respect you as a prince. He did it with your father, and he knew him from a young age. So, what was so different?

“Well, there is one reason.” Yami stated with a sly grin.

You cocked your head to the side, your breath hitching at the swift moment your eyes got a hold of. Yami, without any hesitation, grabbed his Black Bulls rob from his body and let it fall upon your head, effectively hiding your face from any on lookers. Yami, in that moment, had you all to himself. And he took it without a second thought.

Before your lips could form out words, you felt a pair lock onto yours. They were soft, sweet and yet the faintest sensation of cigarette smoke caused those lips to tingle more than normal.

You hesitated for a moment. Everything need to calm down in your mind before you even tried to kiss him back, let alone take the lead. It wasn’t as if you didn’t want this, it was just so unexpected. The man that you admired, maybe even loved, had actual made a move that you never even dreamed of doing. You just didn’t have the time. As the prince, your responsibilities got in the way of doing anything that you would have liked to do. So, you’ve never kissed anyone either.

Yami knew this. He practically knew everything about you, because of that, he didn’t move. Though, after a moment or two, he began to lead. His lips moved slowly, showing that he wasn’t in a rush. You appreciated that.

He began to follow his lead, syncing his movements with yours for the best feeling. It didn’t take a second longer after to feel the way your heart beat. It was like a bullet train, almost going so fast and so hard to break from your ribcage and collide with Yami’s heart. There was something about it that was romantic, exciting yet on the other side of the coin it was scary. Scary solely because you didn’t notice how hard you had fallen for the Black Bulls’s captain until he pressed his lips to yours.

When he pulled away, it didn’t feel real. The tingly sensation trailed away from your lips and down your entire spine, a shiver taking over your body. It was a second or two after you fluttered your eyes, hoping that he would continue and never stop until you both drew your last breath. When you did open to look at him thought, that prideful yet loving gaze Yami gave to you was unmistakable.

“I’m not going to follow your orders.” Yami stated lowly, his voice so husky and close to your sense of hearing that made your feet suddenly shift under you.

You nodded, understanding why. It wasn’t for lack of respect. He had that for you and more, maybe even more for you than your father. It wasn’t that at all. Instead, he just couldn’t bear the thought of not being himself around you. He didn’t want to fake your relationship, no matter what it was, and no matter for how long. Once again, this one damn guy had done something unpredictable. One thing that allowed to throw your title away and just be yourself.

#black clover #black clover x reader #black clover x male reader #yami sukehiro x reader #yami sukehiro headcanon #yami sukehiro x male reader #x male reader #male reader

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wonderland-in-bloom · 4 years ago

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vice dorm leaders taking care of their cold s/o

a♕-chan asked: headcanons w/ the vice dorm leaders and an s/o who’s currently cold on a rainy day and how they would take care of their s/o and overall how they would spend a rainy day together

i love the vice dorm leaders <3 uwu they deserve more love ;w; also i’m including ortho in this one (ik he doesn’t count as a vice dorm leader but like idk and yes it is platonic!!)

headcanons under the cut :))

trey clover

you sat at a table by the window, gazing at the never-ending rain

although you already wore a jacket, you were still feeling quite cold, causing you to rub both your hands together

“cold huh?” you looked up to see trey with a tray (hah i waited a long time to make that joke) in his hands

the tray had two plates, each with a slice of cake and a teapot along with two cups

he placed one plate and one cup in front of you and took a seat in front of you

“you made (insert cake flavor)! my favorite.” “of course. what kind of boyfriend would i be to not make my sweet their favorite?”

he delicately poured a generous amount of hot tea in your teacup and did a little ‘cheers’ with you

the warm cake fresh out of the oven and the hot cup of tea instantly made you feel all around warmer

what made you even warmer is your boyfriend, sitting in front of you and admiring you like you were a piece of art

the smile plastered over his face and the way he laughed when the both of you talked made you feel all warm and cozy on the inside

when the two of you were done (talking for more than three hours), you helped him with the dishes

he may or may not have purposely added soap bubbles to the sink so you two were able to play around with the soap and the bubbles

luckily the water was warm so when the both of your clothes got a little drenched, it was okay :))

what was not okay was the fact that riddle almost screamed the living daylights out of you but trey was able to calm him down

the perks of being the dorm leader’s significant other, i guess :33

ruggie bucchi

you sat on your bed, burying your head in a pillow as you hated the rain

you wanted to go outside and run around and have a fun time outside in the hot sun bUT NOPE, the weather had to come RAIN on your parade

you were in a t-shirt and shorts, the cold slowly starting to creep on you and latch itself onto you

you felt your door creak open and a sound of footsteps, followed by a loud ‘thud’ on the ground

you soon felt your big, soft blanket being draped over your head and was tackled by someone from behind

“CAUGHT YA!” that person yelled before wrapping their arms around your waist

“oi (y/n), you’re gonna get a cold if you don’t warm up ya know.” you popped your head out from the blanket to be face to face with your boyfriend, ruggie

you wailed and proceeded to throw yourself onto him, causing him to fall back, laying down on your bed

he felt his face flush and heat up by the minute as he struggled to get away from you

“HEY! (Y/N)! LET GO OF ME!” “no. you’re my oversized teddy bear. teddy...hyena...”

he couldn’t resist the innocent, adorable face engulfed in the blanket and so proceeded to gently poke your nose, this time causing you to blush

“shishishishi, your face looks red. you warm enough yet?” “no...that’s why hug me tighter...” OKAY NOW THE BOTH OF YOU WERE JUST BLUSHING MESSES

and so he did hug you tighter and you snuggled against his chest, both slowly drifting off to sleep and forgetting the cold atmosphere from the rain

jade leech

"hon, what’s the meaning of this?” you raised your eyebrows as jade seated you down in one of the chairs of the mostro lounge

there in front of you was a vase filled with an array of your favorite flowers and a candlelight dinner-like set up

“my, my, (y/n). why would you wear something like this during a cold, rainy night?” jade commented on the outfit you wore. he told you to wear something a little bit fancy and not so casual, and you didn’t have any long-sleeved formal wear

“although you look stunning, my dear, you’re going to catch a cold.”

jade proceeded to take off his own jacket and place it on your shoulders

“please wait a moment” he left to head to the kitchen and you just smiled at how much of a gentleman he was

he came back with two plates of food, ravioli

“....mushroom ravioli? really?” you laughed. “both our favorites. so...cheers?”

he raised his fancy wine glass (FILLED WITH A SPARKLING DRINK NOT ALCOHOL DON’T WORRY) and so did you

that night you two indulged in plenty of warm food and sat near the candlelight, removing all the cold atmosphere away from the two of you

of course the lighthearted conversations filled with laughter and teasing made you feel warmer on the inside too

then he may or may not told azul and floyd to do the dishes as he continues to entertain you for the rest of the night :))

jamil viper

“J-JAMIL!?!?!?!?! WHAT IS ALL THIS?!” you ‘sort of’ screamed

in front of you was a pearly white bathtub made out of pure while marble, decorated with candles on the side of it and plenty of jasmine petals floating on the surface of the water as well as soap bubbles

“strip.” he commanded

you took your slipper off and aimed it right at his face as you threw it with all your might “YOU PERV!” he caught the slipper of course

he laughed at your reaction and your face which was all the colors of red possible

“there, there, (y/n). i’m just kidding.” he patted your head. “i’ll wait outside.” he handed you a dark red bath robe made out of silk

you made sure to change into it and hesitantly made it to the door

“...u..uhmm...jamil....wouldyoumindgettingintothebathwithme?!”

he was, well, shocked. he didn’t know you had that much confidence to invtie him into the bath with you

“if that’s what you wish” he smirked “BUT NO PEEPING YOU PERV!” “relax, i’ll cast a spell that’ll make the rest of our body submerged in water invisible”

you both got in and sat at the opposite ends, good thing the bath tub was HUGEEEE

you two spend the first few minutes just soaking in the hot water, letting your tense muscles relax and just inhale the relaxing, earthy aroma

but then you started talking with him about your day, how the rain almost destroyed all your textbooks, and that’s when the both of you talked about almost anything and everything

you two spent too long in there until your fingers and skin were all wrinkly

however you were a little sad when it was over

“let’s take a bath together again next time. shall we?” “hoo, i didn’t know you were so desperate, (y/n).” “EESH, SHUT UP PERV!”

rook hunt

MATCHING PJS AND JACKETS --> movie night

“MY DARLING! I HAVE A PRESENT!” rook banged the door against the wall, causing you to jump, almost falling out of bed but you managed to hold onto the sheets

“rook! you scared me!” he patted your head as he muttered a ‘sorry’ and started to unwrap a box in front of you

“taadaa!” inside were two pajamas made out of a very soft material guaranteed to keep you warm. one was dark purple while the other one was a lighter purple.

“matching pajamas?” “MATCHING PAJAMAS!” you giggled at your boyfriend’s always cheerful and quirky behavior, then planting a kiss on his cheeks

“well, go get changed! i have something special planned!”

and so he left you and you did change. those were the best set of pajamas you have ever worn in your whole entire life.

“(y/n), darling!!! head over to my room!” you followed his order and was met with a ton of pillows set on his bed and a movie starting to play on the screen

“well hurry up, we wouldn’t want to miss it.” you didn’t hesitate to literally dive into the bed and cuddled up close against him

he placed one arm on your waist as you rested your head on his chest while the movie played

it was a touching, sad movie, perfect with the rain gently tapping on the windows of his room

near the end, the both of you just gave up and managed to doze off

the next morning you were greeted by the sunshine through the window, birds chirping, a smile plastered on both your faces, and....a very pissed off vil (because you left the movie running all night and his room was right beside yours so he couldn’t sleep lol)

ortho shroud

your boyfriend, idia, was cooped up in his room as usual, no matter during a hot sunny day, or a cold rainy evening, he was stuck in there playing games

you wanted to drag him outside to the ignihyde lounge but ortho stopped you before you were able to

“big bro/sis (y/n), why not we build a fort to set the mood?!”

you agreed with ortho’s plan and started assembling your makeshift fort

you used the pillows and seating from the couches and also blankets and pillows from the different rooms in ignihyde

you and ortho managed to finish in less than an hour and turns out the fort was bigger than you thought

you illuminated it with some candles to keep you both warm and stuffed some more blankets and pillows inside

you then ran to idia’s room and quickly stole his gaming console and ran to your fort, causing him to scream

“(Y/N)!!! GIVE THAT BACK!” he screamed in anger/sadness (because honestly he looked like he was going to cry)

however he paused when he saw the comfortable fort and his gaming console already set up

“onii-chan! let’s play!” you smiled along with ortho and idia agreed

you teamed up with ortho and tried to beat idia in whatever game you were playing

idia tend to curse a lot while playing those games and therefore you slapped his cheek everytime you did while trying your best to make sure ortho doesn’t hear his curses

each time you and ortho won, you would hug each other and give each other a high five

it was a cute and fun family bonding time

by the end of your tiring and enthusiastic gaming time, the two boys snuggled up close to you and you wrapped your arms around them “my two favorite boys”

a cute little happy family ;w;

lilia vanrouge

you ignited the fireplace in the diasomnia lounge to keep yourself warm from the stinging cold air due to the rain

lilia noticed this and jumped on your back

“haaah how warm” “the fireplace?” “noooo, you.”

you giggled and sat on one of the couches beside lilia

you leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling the warm instantly becoming warmer

lilia, with the help of his bats, wrapped a blanket around the both of you

you closed your eyes with a smile on your face, enjoying the moment for a while

“you know what’s perfect on rainy days, my beloved?” “what is it?” “it’s the perfect time to tell you some stories.”

your eyes seemed to sparkle as in lilia’s eyes you looked like an excited puppy

“yes please! tell me some of your stories!” you cheered

he was only able to chuckle “alright then, get comfortable”

you rested your head on his lap and managed to lay down

he started his story with his past experiences, then he told you stories of malleus as a baby and how he wasn’t able to properly put his clothes on, then how he used to take care of silver

“but, my beloved, would you want to know my favorite story?” you nodded enthusiastically, causing him to chuckle at your cuteness

“well...it’s the story of how i met you. and the story of our love.”

this caused you to hide your face in your hands due to embarrassment and you almost fell off the couch

“lilia! don’t say that!” “but it’s true.” “okay! save it for another time!”

he planted a kiss on your hands which were hiding your face then allowed you to stay in that position for longer

meanwhile malleus, silver, and sebek were just listening and peeping from a corner

“why is this so weird?” “it’s so weird looking at the old man doing this” “we shouldn’t be doing this” “haha silver you were a pathetic baby” “not as pathetic as you” “wHAT DID YOU--” and well the three of them basically ruined your intimate moment with lilia

♡

anyone else super pumped for june? the events are gonna END ME and my gems lol ;w; i’m also making a kofi account soon, i thought that was just worth sharing lolol i might open three to five slots for writing commissions but i’m still unsure :))

love, a♕

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thewidowsghost · 4 years ago

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The Unknown Muggleworn - Chapter 3

3rd Person POV

The next month went by very quickly. (Y/n) and Hermione had spent a lot of time studying their spell books.

(Y/n) took a lot of time trying to learn defensive spells and as well as some simple ones like Reparo, the repairing spell, Alohomora, the unlocking spell, and Lumos, the wand lighting spell, and Wingardium Leviosa, the levitating spell.

The night before the journey to Hogwarts, Hermione and (Y/n) pack up their trunks and carry them down by the front door.

The next morning, Hermione, (Y/n), and Mr. and Mrs. Granger get into the car and make their way to King's Cross Station.

Once they get there, Mr. Granger and (Y/n) pull the heavy trunks onto two trollies, Marvel's cat carrier sitting on top of (Y/n)'s trunk.

"So, if I'm correct, we need to run between Platforms Nine and Ten," (Y/n) says once they reach the two platforms.

"Or we could ask someone," Hermione suggests.

The four look around to see a plump woman walking by with four boys and a young girl, all with flaming red hair, and the four boys are pushing trollies with trunks on it.

"Come on," (Y/n) says, stepping forward towards the family.

"Hello," (Y/n) says, rather shyly, the others though.

The plump woman turns to the group. She studies (Y/n) thoughtfully, catching sight of her scar - (Y/n)'s hair had been pulled into a low ponytail.

"Hello dears, need to get onto the Platform?" the woman asks, continuing to watch (Y/n) thoughtfully.

"Yes ma'am," Hermione answers and the plump woman's gaze wonders to her.

"All you have to do is run into the wall between Platforms Nine and Ten," the women says and (Y/n) shoots a triumphant look at Hermione.

"Ha, I was right!" (Y/n) says, nudging her sister affectionately. Hermione rolls her eyes as the plump women laughs.

We start towards the platform, Mr. and Mrs. Granger starting up a conversation with the plump woman.

(Y/n) jumps slightly as two voices, almost identical, speak up from behind her, "Hello -"

"We're Fred -"

"And George -"

"Weasley," they finish in unison.

(Y/n) and Hermione turn at the same time to study two identical boys, about two years older than the two.

"Hello, I'm (Y/n) (L/n)-Granger, and this is my sister, Hermione Granger," (Y/n) says.

"Twins?" Hermione guesses and the two red haired boys nod.

"Yes -" Fred, (Y/n) thinks at least, begins.

"Of course we are," the other twin, (Y/n) believes was George, finishes.

The group gets to the barrier and (Y/n) catches sight of the black haired boy from Diagon Alley.

(Y/n), Hermione, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger pass through the barrier.

(Y/n) takes in the Platform quizzically.

A scarlet steam engine is waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sigh overhead says, Hogwarts Express, Eleven o'clock.

"Wow!" Hermione breathes, her brown eyes full of wonder. There were so many people on the Platform that (Y/n) nor Hermione could count them all, as well as cats and owls of so may colors it was hard to believe so many existed.

3rd Person POV – With Harry

According to the large clock over the arrivals board, Harry had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and he had no idea how to do it; he was stranded in the middle of a station with a trunk he could hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money, and a large owl.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell him something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. He wondered if he should get out his wand and start tapping the ticket inspector's stand between platforms nine and ten.

At that moment a group of people were just behind him and he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"— packed with Muggles, of course —"

Harry swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry's in front of him — and they had an owl.

Heart hammering, Harry pushed his cart after them. They stopped and so did he, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand, "Mom, can't I go . . ."

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward Platforms Nine and Ten. Harry watched, careful not to blink in case he missed it — but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two Platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone — but how had he done it?

Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier — he was almost there — and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.

There was nothing else for it.

"Excuse me," Harry said to the plump woman.

"Hello, dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose. "Yes," said Harry. "The thing is — the thing is, I don't know how to —"

"How to get onto the platform?" she said kindly, and Harry nodded.

"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."

"Er — okay," said Harry.

He pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid.

He started to walk toward it. People jostled him on their way to Platforms Nine and Ten. Harry walked more quickly. He was going to smash right into that barrier and then he'd be in trouble — leaning forward on his cart, he broke into a heavy run — the barrier was coming nearer and nearer — he wouldn't be able to stop — the cart was out of control — he was a foot away — he closed his eyes ready for the crash —

It didn't come . . . he kept on running . . . he opened his eyes.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. He had done it.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry pushed his cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. He passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again." "Oh, Neville," he heard the old woman sigh.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on." The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

Harry pressed on through the crowd until he found an empty compartment near the end of the train. He put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave his trunk toward the traindoor. He tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot.

"Want a hand?" It was one of the red-haired twins he'd followed through the barrier.

"Yes, please," Harry panted.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

With the twins' help, Harry's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

Thanks," said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry's lightning scar.

"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you — ?"

"He is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Harry.

"What?" said Harry.

"Harry Potter," chorused the twins.

"Oh, him," said Harry. "I mean, yes, I am."

The two boys gawked at him, and Harry felt himself turning red. Then, to his relief, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mom."

With a last look at Harry, the twins hopped off the train.

Harry sat down next to the window where, half hidden, he could watch the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief.

Harry had also spotted the two girls from Madam Malkin's Robe Shop.

He could see the mother and father of the two girls, but there was something off about the taller one.

She doesn't seem to belong with them, Harry thinks. Not in a bad way, but she looks nothing like the brown haired girl or the mother and father.

Harry is caught off guard as he overhears the conversation-taking place between the red haired family.

"Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?" One of the red-haired twins says.

Harry leaned back quickly so they couldn't see him looking.

"You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?"

"Who?"

"Harry Potter!"

Harry heard the little girl's voice. "Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see him, Mom, oh please. . . ."

"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo. Is he really, Fred? How do you know?" The mother asks, turning to Fred.

"Asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there — like lightning."

"Poor dear — no wonder he was alone, I wondered. He was ever so polite when he asked how to get onto the platform."

"Never mind that, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?" One of the twins asks.

Their mother suddenly became very stern.

"I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school."

"All right, keep your hair on."

A whistle sounded.

Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and their younger sister began to cry.

"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls." Fred says.

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat." George adds. "George!"

"Only joking, Mom."

The train began to move. Harry saw the boys' mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved.

Harry watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Harry felt a great leap of excitement. He didn't know what he was going to — but it had to be better than what he was leaving behind.

(Y/n)'s POV

Hermione and I rush to haul our things onto the train.

We find a compartment but there was someone already sitting there.

I slide the door open, "Mind if we sit here?"

"I don't mind," the round faced boy says. "I'm Neville," he says.

"(Y/n)," I hold out my hand and the boy shakes it. "This is my sister Hermione."

"It's nice to meet the two of you," Neville says, then he continues, "Would you mind helping me find my toad?"

"We'll help look," I answer after exchanging a nod with Hermione.

Time Skip – Still (Y/N)'s POV

We all meet back up in the compartment we started in.

"Did anyone find Trevor?" Neville asks and we all shake our heads reluctantly, not wanting to give the poor boy any bad news. Neville groans.

"What about we all look together?" I suggest, and the others nod.

"Just give me a moment," I say, digging through my trunk, looking for my robes.

I find them, then dart out of the compartment to the bathroom, changing quickly, returning to the compartment.

"Okay, off to find Trevor," Hermione says, a twinkle of amusement evident in her eyes.

All three of us walk down the passages asking everyone if they had seen a toad anywhere.

We reach a compartment where Harry and one of the red-haired boys that we had walked through the station with.

Hermione slides the compartment door open, and we all step in.

3rd Person POV – Harry's Perspective

Ron raises his wand just when the compartment door slides open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him, and the two girls from Diagon Alley. The two of the girls were already wearing their new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," the shorter girl says. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

She sits down. Ron looks taken aback, but the tall girl didn't, her green gaze sparkling with amusement.

"Er — all right." Ron clears his throat. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

He waves his wand, but nothing happens. Scabbers stays gray and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" says the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? We've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in our family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when we got our letters, but we were ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, we heard — We've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough — I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?" She says all this very fast.

Harry looks at Ron, and is relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn't learned all the course books by heart either, but the other girl looks at Hermione, nodding in agreement, clearly meaning that the two of them had learned all the course books by heart.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron mutters.

"Harry Potter," Harry says.

"Are you really?" asks Hermione. "I know all about you, of course — I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"Am I?" asks Harry, feeling dazed.

"Goodness, didn't you know. I've found out everything I could if it was me," says Hermione. "Do either of you know what House you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best. I did hear though that Dumbledore himself was in it too, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. . . Anyway, we'd better go look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

Hermione leaves, taking Neville with her leaving the other girl behind, a glint in her green eyes.

"Sorry about her," the (H/c) haired girls says. "My sister's just excited about going to Hogwarts. I mean, if you couldn't tell. I'm (Y/n) (L/n)-Granger."

"Are you really?" Ron asks (Y/n) curiously. "Do you have a scar too?" he then asks.

(Y/n) pulls her hair back, exposing an hourglass shaped scar on the left side of her neck.

"Why are your glasses broken?" (Y/n) abruptly changes the subject, turning to look at Harry.

"Cousin . . ." Harry explains and (Y/n) walks over to him, pulling out her wand.

"Let me try something," (Y/n) says, pointing her wand in his face, his eyes crossing slightly. "Reparo!" she says, and the glasses mend themselves. Harry takes them off, looking in wonderment between his glasses, Ron, and (Y/n).

"That's better, isn't it?" (Y/n) asks, laughing slightly.

"Uh, yeah, thanks, (Y/n)," Harry says.

"Well, I'd better go find my sister," (Y/n) says, walking out of the compartment, closing the compartment door on the way out.

Time Skip - (Y/n)'s POV

A couple of hours after meeting Harry and Ron in their compartment, we arrived at Hogwarts.

A voice echoed through the train, "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

The train slows down, and finally stops. People push their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. A lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students and a loud voice calls, "Firs' years? Firs' years over here! All right there , Harry?" It must have been Hagrid, the man who was with Harry in Diagon Alley.

"C'mon, follow me – any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!" Hagrid says.

All of us slipping and stumbling, we follow Hagrid down what seems to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark that I thought there must be thick trees here. Nobody spoke much, the only one making any noise was Neville, we still hadn't been able to find his toad.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid calls over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud, "Oooooh!" I didn't realize that one came from my mouth as well.

A narrow path opens suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling brightly in the starry sky was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid calls, pointing to a fleet of boats sitting in the water by the shore.

Hermione and I follow Harry and Ron into a boat.

"Everyone in?" Hagrid shouts, who has a boat to himself. "Right then – FORWARD!"

Then the fleet of little boats moves off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. No one spoke as the little fleet of boats carries us through a curtain of ivy that hides a wide opening in the cliff face. We're carried along a dark tunnel, which seems to be taking us right underneath the castle, until we reach a kind of underground harbor, where we all clamber out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" Hagrid asks, who was checking the boats as all of us climb out of them.

"Trevor!" cries Neville blissfully, holding out his hands.

We all clamber up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

We all walk up a fight of stone steps and crowd around the huge oak front door.

"Neville, still got Trevor?" I ask, my (H/l), (H/c) hair flying back over my shoulders as the door opens.

3rd Person POV

The door swings open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. (Y/n) instantly recognizes the woman and nudges the Hermione, muttering, "Professor McGonagall. "

The brunette nods in acknowledgement.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," says Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." Professor McGonagall says.

Professor McGonagall opens the door wider. The entrance hall was so big, Harry thinks, you could fit the whole of the Dursley's house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

The new students follow Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry hears the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right – the rest of the school must already be here – but Professor McGonagall shows the first years into the small, empty chamber off of the hall. The students crowd in, standing rather closer together than they normally would have, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall says. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you ae here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room."

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin." Professor McGonagall says. "Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours."

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school," (Y/n) and Hermione's gazes all meet at Professor McGonagall's words. "I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Professor McGonagall's eyes linger for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose.

(Y/n) looks over and sees Harry nervously trying to flatten his hair.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," Professor McGonagall tells the nervous first years, "Please wait quietly."

She leaves the chamber, and Harry swallows.

"How exactly do they sort us into Houses?" Harry asks Ron.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking." Ron answers, and Harry's heart gives a horrible jolt.

A test? In front of the while school? But Harry didn't know any magic yet, what on earth would he have to do? He hadn't expected something like this the moment he arrived. He looks around anxiously and saw that everyone else looks terrified, too, except (Y/n), who seemed to be holding an a face of calm on her face for the benefit of everyone else. No one was talking much except for Hermione Granger, and (Y/n) (L/n)-Granger, who were whispering very fast to each other all the spells they had learned and wondering which ones they might need. Harry is trying really hard not to listen to them. He had never been more nervous, never, not even when he'd had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that he'd somehow turned his teacher's wig blue. Harry and (Y/n) kept their eyes on the door. Any second now, Harry thinks, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead Harry to his doom.

Then something happened that made Harry jump about a foot in the air – several people behind him scream.

"What the -?"

Harry gasps, and so did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed thought the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. The ghost seemed to be arguing. What looks like to be a fat little monk says, "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to five him a second chance –"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights seems to have noticed the first years.

(Y/n) raises her hand nervously, and the ghost in the ruff turns to her.

"Yes?" He asks.

"We're new students, we're about to be sorted," She says, shaking a little.

A few people nod in agreement.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" says the Friar. "My old House, you know."

"Move along now," a sharp voice says. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned to the hall, and one by one, the ghosts float away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall tells the first years, "and follow me."

(Y/n) felling nervous, falls in line behind Ron, Hermione behind her. Professor McGonagall leads the first years out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

(Y/n) had never imagined such an amazing thing could exist. Thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, Probably the House tables, (Y/n) thinks, where the older students were sitting, light the Great Hall. On the tops of the tables, there were glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall leads the first years towards the table, so that they come to a halt in a line facing the other students. Hundreds of faces stare back at them like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight, and dotted among the students, the ghost shone a misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looks upwards and sees a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. Harry hears Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in –"

"Hogwarts, A History?" (Y/n) asks her sister with a smile.

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, Harry thinks, and that the Great hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

Harry quickly looks down again as Professor McGonagall silently places a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool, she puts a pointed wizard's hat. The hat was so patched and frayed, and extremely dirty, Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house, Harry thinks.

Harry think wildly, Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, It seems the soft of thing. (Y/n) then notices that everyone is staring at the hat, and she looks towards it too. For a few moments, there was complete silence, then the hat twitches, a rip near the brim opens wide like a mouth – and the hat begins to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty, But don't judge on what you see, I'll eat myself if you can find A smarter hat than me. You can keep your bowlers black, Your top hats sleek and tall, For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat And I can cap them all. There's nothing hidden in your head The Sorting Hat can't see, So try me on and I will tell you Where you ought to be. You might belong in Gryffindor, Where dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart; You might belong in Hufflepuff, Where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuffs are true And unafraid of toil; Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, If you've a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind; Or perhaps in Slytherin You'll make your real friends, Those cunning folk use any means To achieve their ends. So put me on! Don't be afraid ! And don't get in a flap! You're in safe hands (though I have none) For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall bursts into applause as the hat finishes its song. It bows to each of the four tables and then becomes quote still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispers to Harry. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Harry smiles weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but Harry wishes they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seems to be asking rather a lot; Harry didn't feel brace or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the had had mentions a House for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him.

Professor McGonagall now steps forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"Abbott, Hannah!" Professor McGonagall calls the first name.

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbles out of line, puts on the hat, but before the hat falls over her eyes, (Y/n) shoots her a smile, and Hannah smiles thankfully back. The hat falls over Hannah's eyes, and after a moment's pause –

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouts the hat.

The table on the right cheers and claps as Hannah goes to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. (Y/n) sees ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouts the hat again, and Susan moves to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!" shouts the hat and the table second from the left claps this time; several Ravenclaws stand up to shake hands with Terry as he joins them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" becomes the first Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could wee Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent," then becomes a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination, after all he'd heard about Slytherin, but he thought they look like an unpleasant lot.

Harry definitely looks sick, (Y/n) thinks. Harry remembered being picked for teams during gym at his old school. Harry had always been last to be chosen, not because he was no good, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked him.

"Finch – Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, (Y/n) noticed, the hat shouted out the House at once, but at others it took a while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy that was standing next to harry in line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

(Y/n) smiles warmly at her sister as she runs to the stool and jams the hat eagerly onto her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouts the hat, and Ron groans.

A horrible thought strikes Harry, as horrible thoughts always do when you're very nervous. What if he wasn't chosen at all? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he'd better get back on the train?

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now.

"Moon" . . . , "Nott" . . . , "Parkinson" . . . , then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" . . . , then "Perks, Sally-Anne" . . . , and then, at last —

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes — and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting. . . . So where shall I put you?"

Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.

"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that — no? Well, if you're sure — better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. He was so relieved to have been chosen and not put in Slytherin, he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff he'd seen earlier. The ghost patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.

He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up. Harry grinned back. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the card he'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harry spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.

"Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. Harry crossed his finger under the table and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to him.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley pompously across Harry.

There were only two people left to be sorted, (Y/N), and a tall boy with black hair.

"Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin, and at last, (Y/n)'s name was called.

"(L/n)-Granger, (Y/n)!" Professor McGonagall shouts, and the (H/l), (H/c) steps up to the stool. She turns around, and nervously looks around, Hermione meets her gaze from across the hall, and Hermione smiles at her sister softly.

(Y/N)'s POV

I sit on the stool, and the hat falls over my eyes.

I jump a little as I hear the Sorting Hat starts talking in my head. "Well, your ambitious, and a strong leader, I see, qualities of Slytherins, ah, but there is something else here, patience and loyalty, also qualities of a Hufflepuff. But there's something else here, wisdom, wit, and a lot of creativity, all qualities of Ravenclaw. But also courage, bravery, and daring, so where to put you?" The hat asks. "Brilliantly smart father, daringly brave mother."

"You know my dad?" (Y/n) thinks. Though she knew little about her mother, she knew absolutely nothing about her father.

"Your father was a famous muggle," the Sorting Hat says softly, only loud enough for (Y/n) to hear. "Extremely witty and intelligent beyond his years."

"So he wasn't a wizard," (Y/n) comes to this conclusion.

"No," the Sorting Hat confirms.

"What about my mother?" (Y/n) thinks.

"She was a Gryffindor, a muggle-born like yourself."

Hermione's POV

"She's been on that stool for like ten minutes," Harry murmurs to Hermione, who was sitting Percy, across from Harry.

"She's a hat stall," Percy Weasley says softly. "The first since Peter Pettigrew about twenty years ago."

There's a silence for another five minutes before the hat finally shouts, "GRYFFINDOR!"

(Y/n) takes off the hat off her head, then grins.

(Y/n) jogs over to sit beside her sister.

Hermione smiles widely at (Y/n).

"Can't get rid of me that easily," (Y/n) teases.

Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet, and he was beaming at the students, his arms open wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome!" he says. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" Professor Dumbledore finishes, sitting down.

Everyone claps and cheers, (Y/n) and Hermione didn't know whether to laugh or not. Sitting beside Percy Weasley, Harry was thinking the same thing.

"Is he - a bit mad?" Harry asks Percy uncertainly.

"Mad?" Percy answers airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes."

"Potatoes, Harry?" Percy asks.

Harry's mouth falls open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

The Dursleys had never starved Harry, but he'd never been allowed to eat as much as he had wanted. Dudley had always take anything that Harry really wanted, even if it made him sick. Harry piles his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and begins to eat. It was delicious.

"That does look good," says the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak.

"Cant you -?"

"I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years," says the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" Ron says suddenly. "My brothers told me about you – you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy —" the ghost began stiffly, but Hermione interrupts, (Y/N) looking over her shoulder.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

"Now, Hermione dear, that's not polite," (Y/N) says, and Hermione grins at her sister before turning her attention back to the ghost.

Sir Nicholas looks extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he had wanted.

"Like this," he says irritably. He seizes his left ear and pulls; his whole head swings off his neck and falls onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had clearly tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking very pleased at the stunned looks on the first year Gryffindors' faces, Nearly Headless Nick flips his head back onto his neck, coughs, and says, "So – new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house Championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable – he's the Slytherin ghost."

(Y/N) and Harry look over at the Slytherin table and see a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank starting eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was sitting right next to Malfoy who, Harry was pleased to see, didn't look very pleased with the seating arrangement.

"How did he get covered in blood?" Thora and Seamus Finnigan ask with great interest.

"I've never asked," says Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food fades from the plates, leaving hem sparkling clean as before, then, a moment later the deserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, Jell-O, rice pudding, and an assortment of fresh fruits.

As (Y/N) helps herself to a couple of strawberries and some chocolate éclairs, the talk turned to their families.

"I'm half-and-half," explains Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of nasty shock for him."

The others laugh, and Ron turns to Neville.

"What about you, Neville?" Ron asks.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," Neville begins, "but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me — he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned — but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced — all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here — they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."

"What about you?" asks Seamus Finnegan.

(Y/n) looks up, startled, but then speaks. "My mother, that I know of, was Muggleborn. My father was a muggle. I grew up with Hermione here for my whole life. My real parents are dead, well, that I know of."

Harry glances at the (H/c) haired girl as she turns back to Hermione and Percy Weasley, who were talking about lessons.

"I do hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult –" Hermione rambles.

"You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing –" Percy says.

"What about Charms?" Hermione asks. "What's that like?"

"Well, in Charms, you learn to cast spells that alter an object without changing it's nature." Percy says.

"Wait," (Y/N) interrupts, "so if we were given, like, a teapot, would we have to make it dance across the desk?"

"Yes, exactly (Y/N), that doesn't change how it looks, if you wanted to turn it into a tortoise, that spell would be taught in Transfiguration." Percy explains.

Harry, who is beginning to feel warm and sleepy, looks up at the High Table again. Hagrid is drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall is talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

It happens very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looks past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes - and a sharp, hot pan shoots across the scars imprinted into (Y/n)'s and Harry's skin.

(Y/n) slaps her hand to the hourglass shaped scar on her neck. Harry does the same, letting out an "Ouch!"

"What is it?" Percy asks, Hermione turning to study her sister.

"N-nothing," Harry mumbles.

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off for Harry was the feeling he had gotten from teh teacher's look - a feeling that he didn't like Harry at all.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" Harry asks, and (Y/n) and Percy's gazes turn to the Head Table.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to – everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape." Percy says.

(Y/n) and Hermione turn their attentions back onto each other and start up a quiet conversation. (Y/n) notices, out of the corner of her eye, Harry watching Snape for a while, but Snape never looked back at Harry.

At last, the desserts disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore gets to his feet, the hall falling silent.

"Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you." He begins.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashes in the direction of the Weasley twins, as he says the last part. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." Hermione's and (Y/N)'s eyes meet at Dumbledore's last few words, while Harry laughs, but he was one of the few that did.

"He's not serious?" Harry mutters to Percy.

"Must be," says Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere – the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cries Dumbledore. Harry notices that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twists itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And the whole school bellows:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, Teach us something please, Whether we be old and bald Or young with scabby knees, Our heads could do with filling With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air, Dead flies and bits of fluff, So teach us things worth knowing, Bring back what we've forgot, Just do your best, we'll do the rest, And learn until our brains all rot."

Everyone finishes the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins are left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducts their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who claps the loudest.

"Ah, music," Dumbledore says, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years follow Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry's legs were like lead again, but only because he was so tired and full of food. He was to sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climb up more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and (Y/N) was just wondering how much farther thy had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and (Y/N)'s eyes narrow in suspicion. Percy takes a step toward them as they start throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves," Percy whispers to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raises his voice, "Peeves – show yourself."

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answers.

"Do you want me to get the Bloody Baron?" Percy asks.

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appears, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he says, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swoops suddenly at them, and they all duck.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barks Percy.

Peeves sticks out his tongue and vanishes, dropping the walking sticks above (Y/n)'s head. (Y/n) slides instinctively out of the way, catching the walking sticks in one hand.

Harry and Ron look slightly impressed as (Y/n) sets the sticks on the ground silently, then walks over to stand beside Hermione.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," says Percy as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, and he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hangs a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress. "Password?" she asks.

"Caput Draconis," answers Percy, and the portrait swings forwards to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scramble through - Neville needing a leg up - and find themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directs the girls rough one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase - (Y/n) figured they were in one of the towers - they find their beads at last: four four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up and, too tired to talk much, (Y/n) pulls on a pair of emerald green pajamas, the color matching (Y/n)'s eyes.

Marvel jumps out of her basket, eyeing Hermione then (Y/n) then hopping up into Hermione's bed, curling up onto Hermione's stomach.

Word Count: 8327 words

Bye!

Love y'all! Kaitlynn❤️😍

#hermione granger #hermione granger x sister reader #harry potter #ron weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #harry potter various x reader

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beaute-epoustouflante · 4 years ago

Text

War Time AU║Bill & Fleur 1997

“I am going to start dinner, but keep going wizout me.” Fleur whispered against Bills ear before she stood, using Bills leg to push herself up onto her feet from the sofa that she had been squeezed in between Bill and Tonks as order business was discussed.

She felt the blood drain from her head as she moved from the sitting room full of order members and into the kitchen where the voices began to fade. She grabbed the bench for support, catching herself while she swayed with dizziness before lowering herself into the kitchen floor. Fleur pulled her legs up to her chest letting her head rest against her knees, her breathing had become shallow and quick as her body fought to pump oxygen to her brain. She took long deep breaths in and out endeavouring to control her drumming heart and spinning head.

“Fleur?” A voice filled the kitchen sending a jolt though Fleurs body. Her head shot up and collided with the cabinet behind her. “Uh.” She winced before responding to the voice. “Yes?” She massaged the back of her head.

“What are you doing down there?” Molly rounded the end of the counter and peered down at a very pale looking Fleur. “I was feeling a little dizzy but I am better now.” Fleur spoke using the counter top to pull herself back up onto her feet. Her face flushed red, embarrassment driving her to her feet long before her body was ready to be vertical again.

“You don’t look well Fleur.” Molly diagnosed, “Sit down.” Molly pulled out one of the seats from the kitchen table and guided Fleur into it.

“I am fine, only tired and I ‘ave not eaten as much as I should ‘ave today, eets been so busy around ‘ere today wiz ze guests staying and ze order meeting. And wiz Beel being away at work all night I ‘ave not been sleeping well.” Fleur tried to explain as Molly moved through the kitchen. The fear grew each evening as Fleur watched Bill disappear into the night for his evening shifts at Gringotts. She worried each and every time that he left out that door, worried for his safety, worried if he would return to her. The dark and eerie nights brought fear that consumed her, it filled her with terror and unrest. The darkness outside shell cottage brought the shadows that moved, the noises that sparked her imagination and the nightmares that plagued her sleep. There was no Bill to calm those fears, just an empty bed and an empty house. Most nights they sheltered wizards and witches that sought refuge and a place to hide in the spare bedrooms of Shell Cottage, she wasn't completely alone on those nights but they couldn't give Fleur the comfort and peace that her husband did by just being there by her side.

“Eat.” Molly instructed placing a piece of chocolate cake in front of Fleur. “If you haven’t been eating your blood sugar will be low.”

Fleur followed her mother-in-laws instruction, using the fork to shovelled the sweet brown dessert into her mouth, the icing staining her lips. “Thank you Molly.”

“Why don’t you go upstairs and rest?”

“Thank you but I am fine, I will finish preparing dinner.”

Fleur tried to stand but Molly pushed her back down. “I can do that.”

“I am fine, I will rest once Beel ‘as gone off to work.”

“Is this the first time you’ve felt dizzy?” Molly questioned.

“I felt a little dizzy zis morning and I vomited but I zeenk eet eez something I ate zat my body did not like, I did not ‘ave an appetite since zen, but zere was no time to eat if I was ‘ungry.”

Molly looked at Fleur up and down.

“Are you pregnant?” She questioned.

“Pregnant? Do not be silly No.” she shook her head with a laugh.

“I cannot be pregnant. My avoir ses règles...menstruations? ‘ave been regular. Ze last one was lighter zan normal i zeenk eet must be all ze stress. Ze same zing ‘appen during ze triwizard tournament.”

Molly looked at Fleur in unbelief and wandered out of the kitchen leaving Fleur alone while she lifted another piece of cake into her mouth feeling her dizziness easing with the sugar her body was beginning to digest.

“Try this.” Molly returned to the kitchen with a vial of translucent liquid. “If you pee in a cup and then add this potion, about a teaspoon, if it turns pink your pregnant.” She explained handing it over to Fleur.

“Thank you, but eet eez impossible, we ‘ave been doing everyzing we can not to.” Fleur desired to be a mother, to share a baby with Bill but she had agreed with Bill it was too dangerous with the war raging throughout England. Bill had explained how strongly he felt about bringing a child into the world with fighting and persecution and fear. She too feared that scenario, her baby, her love and joy hurt and killed by the death eaters turned her stomach.

“Just try it.” Molly replied turning to the fridge.

Fleur studied the vial briefly, her heart wandering off with her mind imagining creating a family with Bill, a little boy with ginger hair smiling up at her while he was snuggled safely in her arms. Quickly the daydream turned dark, death eaters swirling around her, fighting to take her baby. She forced her way back to reality, to her kitchen, pocketing the vial and moving to help Molly.

...

Fleurs eyes snapped open, her body trembling in fear, her heart pounding, she sat up looking around the room suspicious and paranoid that the death eaters from her dreams had followed her into her home. She pushes herself up off the sofa where she had fallen asleep, her camomile tea sat half drunk on the end table. Fleur hadn’t been sleeping well while Bill was away working nights, it always took her hours to fall asleep and she never stayed asleep very long before she woke up startled by dark nightmares. She rubbed her heavy eyes before checking the time, there was still three whole hours before Bill was expected home. She reached down for her mug, the tea now cold as she carried it back to the kitchen. Fleur dropped the mug into the sink turning, raising her wand “nox.” She whispered, the kitchen collapsing into darkness. She began to climb the stairs when she heard a knock at the door. Fleur froze in place, she slowly turned on the second step and eyed the door, listening for any sound. The knock sounded again. She quietly moved towards the front door, raising her wand. “Who’s there.” She spoke loudly, emitting confidence ans power through her voice.

“It’s me Reg Catermole.”

“What song was playing when you, Mary and ze kids arrived?” Fleur questioned

“Flighty Aphrodite by Celestina Warbeck.” The voice answered from behind the door.”

Fleur sighed in relief as she unlocked the door and pulled it open finding a very tired and filthy Reg who stumbled over the threshold.

“You are ‘ome early. Eez everyzing ok? Where eez Beel?.” She poked her head out the door searching for her husband in the darkness but it was still and empty.

“Bill sent me home, he’s covering my shift. It’s hard work, I work at the ministry I am not use to hard physical labour.” Reg spoke exhaustion lining his voice. “You have a very kind husband.”

“Thank you.” Fleurs eyes shining with pride. “E eez one of the kindest wizards I know.” Fleurs heart swelled with love for Bill, his kindness, his selflessness and willingness to help others was just a few of the reasons she loved him dearly. Her chest ached, missing him even more than usual in that moment, wishing he was there with her.

“Go up and rest you look tired.” Fleur sent him up to bed, before checking the locks and spells protecting the door before she followed up to her own room.

Fleur shifted against the sheets, rousing from a heavy slumber, slowly and reluctantly she opened her eyes finding a brightness behind her eye lids. She rocketed up pulling her wrist up to her eyes squinting at the round face, reading 5:40. Her bounding heart slowed as she realised she hadn’t slept through Bill’s return home. She lifted her head and surveyed the room, the lightbulbs were still glowing, illuminating the bedroom from the night before it had been the light fixtures not the sun that she had first concluded. The book that she had been reading the earlier was still open beside her. She must have fallen asleep reading. She had been wide awake after being woken by a nightmare earlier that morning, she had started reading to keep her mind of the fear that bubbled inside her and in a hope to try send her back to sleep.

Fleur pulled back the covers and swung her feet over the side of the bed, her feet searching for her slippers. A wave of nausea washed over her, her head spinning. Her fingers clutched at the sheets below, wishing away the feeling, but it didn’t improve, it only built. Fleur flung herself up onto her feet, using all of her energy and speed to transport herself to the bathroom, just in time for the little of last nights dinner she had consumed to fly from between her lips and into the toilet bowl. She knelt on the cool tile floor as she heaved over the toilet, her heart racing as she tried to force air into her lungs between each hurl. She came to rest against the bathroom wall, trying to catch her breath once the heaving had subsided.

She forced herself up knowing Bill would be home soon. She splashed cold water against her face and set her toothbrush to work washing away the foul taste that lingered in her mouth before emerging from the bathroom looking washed out and exhausted.

Fleur stood at the window overlooking the back garden of Shell Cottage, the sun hadn’t yet peaked above the horizon but the darkness was surrendering and the stars had disappeared. The rising sun sent shimmering rays across the hills behind their house, the sky painted with gold and pink flecks. Her eyes scoured the space beyond the window for movement, her ears listening for the sound of an arrival over the chirping of the birds waking.

With a crack her eyes bolted to where the sound had come from and found a tall shadow crossing the lawn.

She flung open the door, stepping out onto the porch, pulling her robe tighter as the crisp cool morning air bit at her exposed skin. “My Sweet Ginger Pie.” She exclaimed, her eyes twinkling with excitement and relief, wasting no time she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tightly against her body. She could feel a dampness press through her thin pyjamas from Bills wet and mucky work clothes but it held no interest to Fleur, all that was important to her now was having her husband back home and in her arms.

“Ow was your night?” She questioned stepping back, her arms releasing him from her hug but weaving her fingers around his as she pulled him inside, closing the cool morning air behind them.

“I will start on breakfast if you want to shower?” She rose up on her tiptoes and placed a gentle kiss against his cheek, sending him upstairs before turning back into the kitchen.

Fleur was slow in preparing breakfast, pulling items out of the fridge was a battle this morning as she listened to the running water of the shower upstairs. With the pan heating up on the stove top she opened a bag of bacon, reaching in and placing the rashers in the pan, it didn’t take long before the meaty smell wafted into her nose and turned her stomach. Fleur felt her belly lurch, her torso contracted as she gagged, the temporary colour from her face from Bills return now draining. She forced her legs to move towards the sink where her body heaved choking on the last of what was left in her gut. Her fingers blanched white as she clutched the side of the counter.

When there was nothing left, she lent over to open the window letting the fresh morning air leak into the kitchen and rid the house of the nauseating smell of bacon. She wiped the green bile smeared against her chin with the backside of her hand. I only bought that bacon last week, she thought to herself, covering her mouth and nose with her hand as she turned off the stove with the almost burnt bacon and threw the cooked meat into the rubbish bin along with the bag of raw rashes concluding that it must have gone bad for it to smell that terrible.

Fleur had collected herself enough to throw a few eggs in the pan and toast some bread by the time Bill had returned back down to the kitchen. “Tea?” She questioned from the kitchen table placing her cup of ginger scented tea on the table so she could reach the teapot.

#War time AU #Bill and Fleur #alternative universe #bill weasley #Fleur Weasley #sweetgingerpie #beaute-epoustouflante #1997 #starter

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