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writingandimagining · 3 years ago

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High Up in the Astronomy Tower (Part 3)

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Summary: You offer Harry some help and get an unexpected proposal.

Word Count: 2.8k

Rating: Teen (other parts M), 💗

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A/N: I couldn't leave this story alone. This is going to be rather long. I'm planning for a slow burn and maybe some love triangle action? Stay tuned.

You didn’t see Draco on Sunday.

Monday morning you woke with the sun and couldn’t fall back asleep. Nightmares of the Carrow siblings kept you from getting good sleep.

Pushing off the memories of last year you dressed for the day.

You had to teach the Fourth Year Muggle Studies because Professor Fellow was off doing something for McGonagall and attend DADA and… Potions.

Fuck.

You shouldered your bag and headed down to the common room.

You didn’t expect to see anyone here, but Harry Potter was sat at the breakfast bar shoving some eggs around his plate.

“Morning, Harry,” you chirped heading over to the fridge.

“Good morning, (Y/N),” he replied.

“How’s Hermione?”

Harry grimaced and you laughed. “In your room with Ron?”

He nodded.

“Well, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you came into our room for some peace and quiet.”

You grabbed an apple and leaned against one of the counters to eat.

“Really?”

“Sure, why not?”

Harry looked surprised and you tried to give him an encouraging smile.

You were sure that people were offering things to him with all sorts of ulterior motives, and you didn’t want to come off like you wanted something from him.

You didn’t know Harry well beyond brief interactions in shared classes and Dumbledore’s Army, but you hoped you didn’t come off as someone trying to get something from him. You genuinely wanted to help him. He had gone through things you couldn’t even imagine surviving, physically or mentally.

“Okay, I’ll talk to Hermione about it.”

“Sounds good. You ready for classes?”

“I think so. We’re doing Patronus Charms.”

“Eighth Years?”

“No, everybody.”

Your mouth dropped in surprise.

There were full-grown adults who couldn’t do that spell. Subjecting that on the first and second years in their second week of school seemed almost cruel.

“Hermione and Ron gave me the same look.”

“No shit they did.”

“It’s an important spell.”

“I know! But Harry, the younger kids are going to feel so disappointed if,” you paused, “when they can’t do it.”

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“I know you taught to us, but…” you trailed off.

Fifth Year had been different, so many people had been so desperate for some sort of hope. Having the Boy Who Lived teach you how to do a spell based on happiness was exactly what everyone needed then. You didn’t think it was what first years with basically no magical experience needed.

“It was different.”

You nodded. “To be fair to you we’ve never had a normal defense class in our lives. So, you don't have a lot to go off.”

Harry snorted.

“Look, if you think it’s worth it then you should do it. Don’t let me or anyone else make you doubt your instincts. They don’t seem to have led you astray yet.”

“Thanks, (Y/N).”

You smiled again and took a bite out of your apple.

You wondered if there was some sort of casual way you could bring up Draco.

If you call him Draco that definitely won’t be casual.

“So… I heard Slughorn left.”

Harry dropped his head on the table with a groan.

You laughed.

“Relieved or disappointed?”

“Bloody relieved. He was worse than the girl who tried to give me a love potion.”

You sputtered and nearly choked on your apple.

“Someone did that?”

“Probably more than I know about.”

“Merlin. People are insane.”

Harry grunted but didn’t pick his head up.

“What happens without Slughorn?”

“Malfoy is what happens.”

“How is that gonna work?”

Harry finally picked his head up.

“Not well. I’m going to try to stop by his classes, but with the older students I’m not sure that’s going to be enough.”

“What about McGonagall?”

“I’m sure she’ll say something at breakfast. We’re supposed to be there. At the head table.”

“What do you mean ‘we’?” you squeaked. “I’m not even a professor.”

“Professor Fellow is gone for a few days and Professor Chen is doing everything but teaching defense. So, we’re both professors at this point.”

“We’re still taking classes you know!”

Harry shrugged.

“For fuck’s sake. So what? You, me, Dra-Malfoy, and Hermione?” you corrected yourself on Draco’s name and Harry didn’t seem to notice.

You needed to be more conscientious of the name you used for Malfoy because you had no way to explain your changing attitude toward the man without sounding like a loon.

“No Hermione. As much as she’s basically running the library while Pince is working on the reconstruction and helping me with my classes, she isn’t teaching.”

“I want to go back to bed.”

Harry let out something between a chuckle and a sigh and you dropped your apple into the trash.

“Well come on then. Let’s go pretend to be qualified teachers.”

You and Harry made your way down to the Great Hall.

It was barely seven in the morning, but most of the professors had already arrived. You wondered if they were even attempting to sleep at this point.

You scanned the room for Malfoy, and you didn’t see him. You frowned when you realized what you were doing. You barely knew him, but there was some sort of pull that you felt after last night and you couldn’t explain it.

McGonagall was standing near the head table speaking with Hagrid.

“Come on,” you said, tugging Harry along by the arm.

“Ah, Mr. Potter and Miss. (Y/L/N), glad to see you’ve arrived,” she said with a smile on her face.

“We’re professors now?” You cringed at your bluntness.

McGonagall’s expression didn’t change but you detected a glint of amusement in her eyes, and you counted that as a laugh from her.

“It would seem so. Fellow and Chen have been pulled away.”

“For how long?”

“Indeterminate at this point.”

You held back an eye roll.

While you respected McGonagall sometimes the ambiguous responses drove you insane.

“How are we supposed to be taking classes and teaching them at the same time?”

“Miss (Y/L/N), I think we are all aware how much of a formality your courses are this year. You too, Harry.”

While that was probably true, you still wanted to make it count and take your N.E.W.T.s.

“I am aware the two of you wish to become professors at some point. I think we should consider this year a trial run for the future.”

“What?” Harry asked, a confused look on his face.

You had thought he would have wanted to become an Auror, at least that was what everyone said.

“I think you could both lighten your class load to the classes you got Acceptable or lower from your OWLs and teach your courses. And you will have my assistance, as well as the other senior professors.”

You had eleven Outstandings, and one Acceptable. Potions… Fuck, fuck, FUCK.

Harry seemed to be having the same feeling as you.

“I’d only have one class,” you said, a little dazed by the prospect.

“Me too,” Harry commented.

“One to take, several to teach,” McGonagall replied, the same steady look on her face, revealing nothing about what she thought.

“What about NEWTs?” you asked.

“Well, if you wished to stay and teach at Hogwarts after this year, we would not need them. This would be more than enough experience to count towards the time you would have normally spent studying for them.”

You gaped at her.

McGonagall was offering you a job, at Hogwarts, for next year.

“Harry, pinch me.”

Harry absentmindedly reached out and pinched you on the arm.

“Merlin’s beard! I was kidding.”

Harry rolled his eyes at your reaction the stress and tension seeping out of him for a moment.

You turned back to McGonagall your thoughts consumed with the proposal she had made.

“Can we have some time to think about it?” Harry asked, seeming to realize you had mentally exited the conversation.

“Of course. You can have the day.”

“The day! The day?” you cried.

Before you could go any further Harry grabbed your hand and dragged you down to the end of the head table.

“(Y/N), calm down.”

“You calm down,” you replied in a childish voice.

Harry gave you a look and you stuck your tongue out at him.

“That’s a great look with children staring at us.”

You flushed and glanced behind you. There sat a few first years from Gryffindor watching the two of you with wide eyes.

“I think they’re looking at you,” you muttered.

“Or me.”

You whipped back around and saw Malfoy standing behind one of the chairs. When he had arrived you had no clue, but here he was.

He looked vastly different than he had last night. He had on his robes and Slytherin tie, looking the usual posh heir you were used to. He had styled his hair but had thankfully given up the slicked-back look years ago. It sat neatly done, just brushing his ears with a few messy strands around his face.

You watched his eyes track down you and then flash with some emotion you couldn't place. That was when you realized Harry was still holding on to your hand from when he had dragged you away from McGonagall.

Your blush grew and you quickly dropped Harry’s hand going around the table to take the seat next to the one Malfoy was standing behind, leaving a seat for Harry on your left.

“Good morning, Malfoy,” you said, hoping your voice didn’t betray the anxiety you now felt.

A hurt look crossed his face and you cursed yourself for being so indecisive with his name. It really shouldn’t be that big of a deal, but it felt like it.

“Good morning, (Y/N).” Your heart clenched.

Well, now you definitely felt like an asshole.

“Good morning, Harry,” Harry joked trying to lighten the mood.

He clearly sensed the awkwardness and sent you a suspicious look.

“This is going to be hell,” you remarked, avoiding eye contact with Harry.

“More than likely, yes,” Harry replied, glancing at Malfoy.

The three of you sat in uncomfortable silence as students trickled into the Great Hall.

There were so very few compared to how many had been here in your sixth year. You ached for those losses.

You hadn’t been able to bring yourself to look at the lists of those who had died during the Battle but looking out over the room you could probably recreate those lists in your own head from the missing faces.

You spotted Luna and gave her a small wave. She smiled a bright smile back.

You then saw Hermione and Ron enter looking around the room for Harry. When they spotted him at the head table their eyes widened and as they moved down to you their jaws dropped. You waited with bated breath to see how they would react to Malfoy’s presence.

Ron’s face immediately morphed into one of anger. Hermione looked shocked for a moment but then a look of contemplation came over her.

You glanced at Harry and saw no surprise on his face at their reactions. That was probably the best anyone could hope for all things considered.

Once everyone had sat McGonagall stood to make an announcement.

“I want to welcome you all to the second week of school. As we settle in, we have had some staff changes. Your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor will now be Harry Potter. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) will be teaching Muggle Studies. And finally, Draco Malfoy will be teaching Potions.”

The room erupted into whispers, and you clenched your fists.

You hoped McGonagall had something better than that to ease students into Malfoy’s presence.

McGonagall simply tapped her glass and the whispers ceased.

“Now, I can imagine what most of you are thinking and I ask you to reconsider. As we move past the events that transpired here and around the Wizarding World we need to look toward the future. We need to look at how people conduct themselves from here on out. As people try to make amends and correct their missteps, we cannot shut them down before they have even started. You must treat every single one of the professors you see up here today with the utmost respect or face severe punishment.”

You saw very little changes on the faces of the older students, but the younger ones took in McGonagall’s words and seemed to be at least considering them.

“We are rebuilding our school and with that, we are rebuilding our relationships with each other. As we heal from the events of the past few years, we all, individually, have to come to a reckoning with who we were then and strive to be better in the future. And we must allow others to do the same.”

McGonagall ended her speech and sat the food appearing on the table. She left no room for discussion and quickly distracted students with food. It was a solid tactic you wondered if you could employ it in your classes.

Bribery doesn’t count as class management. You held back a laugh at your own joke and glanced around the room one more time.

“That could have gone worse,” you remarked to the men on either side of you.

“Could have gone better,” Harry muttered, swiping a piece of toast off the platter in between you.

“Not getting pelted with tomatoes is a win in my book,” Malfoy quipped.

You laughed and Harry blinked in surprise.

“I didn’t know you were capable of jokes, Malfoy.”

You cringed.

“You learn something new every day.”

You knew the surprise was apparent on your face, but you had been preparing for World War Three, though it seemed unnecessary to worry.

“So, the two of you are professors now?”

“Temporarily, we’re still taking classes,” you replied.

“Well, maybe temporarily and we’re only taking one class each,” Harry interjected.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow and you sighed. You explained McGonagall’s proposition to him, and he listened quietly.

“What class do you have to take?”

You closed your eyes briefly. “Potions.”

Malfoy’s eyes lit up with some emotion you couldn’t place.

“Astronomy.”

Malfoy snorted at Harry’s reply.

“Yeah, I know,” Harry muttered darkly, aggressively biting off a piece of toast.

“That class is such a waste,” Malfoy commented.

You rolled your eyes. “You two just say that because you got crappy grades for your OWLs.”

“Oh, and what did you get?” Malfoy goaded.

“Outstanding.”

“Of course,” Harry replied with an eye roll.

“What? Why ‘of course.'”

“(Y/N), you and Hermione were the only people to take twelve courses for OWLs,” Harry responded.

“You took twelve OWLs?!” Malfoy shouted.

“Hush,” you said, lightly hitting him on the arm.

“Twelve? (Y/N), how in Merlin’s name did you take twelve OWLs?”

You shrugged.

If you were being honest academic validation was your main motivator, so it propelled you to do things that were probably not the smartest nor healthiest.

“You got Acceptable in Potions and what else?”

“Outstanding in everything else.”

Malfoy gaped at you.

You blushed and turned away to scoop some fruit onto your plate.

“No wonder McGonagall is so comfortable with letting you teach. Though I’m not sure about Golden Boy over there.”

“Hey!” Harry cried.

The rest of breakfast continued in a comfortable conversation.

You were surprised by how easily Malfoy and Harry were getting along, but you suspected that having the whole school’s eyes on them and you as a buffer was doing more to make them amicable than their actual feelings for each other having changed.

Breakfast ended and the three of you made your way to the hallway.

“I’ll see you later (Y/N),” Harry said. He gave a brief nod to Malfoy and then all but sprinted off in the direction of the DADA classroom.

“Bye!” You called after him and then you turned to Malfoy.

“What are you doing later?” Malfoy asked.

“I offered to have him stay in my room if Hermione and Ron were being too much.”

Malfoy winced seemingly coming to the same conclusion that you had come to about rooming with a new couple.

“Won't your roommate mind?”

“Hermione is my roommate so it should be fine for him to take her bed if he needs to.”

“Ah.” Malfoy seemed relieved and then you realized what it sounded like.

“Oh! I didn’t mean for it to sound like… I wasn’t trying to say… He wasn’t going to stay in my bed.” You fumbled over your words.

Malfoy relaxed even further and then chuckled.

Suddenly students came flooding out of the Great Hall. Malfoy stepped closer and leaned into you to be heard.

“I’ll see you in Potions,” he all but whispered into your ear and then turned and left you standing in the hall with your heart racing.

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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years ago

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Beautiful Ghosts

Ghost!Reader X Draco

Summary: Request: @sydthekid1518: I had an Idea for a draco fic, where y/n is a ghost that’s fairly popular with the students and staff, and draco falls for her and stuff? And then maybe y/n and Harry create a plan that would allow reader to come back to life and stuff and be with draco.

A/N: Happy spooky season to all and to all a good night filled with Draco Malfoy. I’m so excited about how this turned out and that I got it done before Halloween because the odds weren’t looking to hot not gonna lie, but here it is and it’s beautiful. As always, let me know what y’all think,,,

“Y/n, please don’t disturb my students,” Snape droned with a monotone voice.

“You’ve got no power over me, Severus,” I laughed, ghosting away from his Slytherins working on Polyjuice potion.

“But I do have control in this classroom, dead or not Miss Y/n, this is my domain,” Snape argued, ruffled.

“I’m eternally bonded to this school. It’s my domain more than it is yours,” I countered, perched on his desk.

“Blasted ghosts,” A boy muttered, catching my attention, “No respect for authority,”

Tilting my head, I made my way over to him, studying the young Slytherin. He was about the age that I was when I had died, moved on, crossed the veil—whatever. His steady grey eyes and twisted sneer told me all that I needed to know about him.

“Another Malfoy,” I mused. “Interesting... And where’s your respect for the dead Mr. Malfoy?”

His eyes went wide at the idea that I was addressing him at all. Like I spooked him. Imagine that, a ghost spooking someone.

“Enough Ms. Y/n. Kindly refrain from scaring my students if you must stay,” Snape intervened. “I’m not scared,” Malfoy shot back.

“Boo!” I teased before passing through the walls of the dungeon and into my favorite spot in the entire castle, even living: the library.

I never had so much time on my hands before being dead, and now I could just take a book and read. Pince had been able to enchant them in such a way that I was able to hold them and turn their pages still. I was in the middle of a riveting tale about a boy who never grew up and had his destiny forced upon him and could fly. Perched on one of the tops of the shelves, I was lost in another world of magic.

“I didn’t know you could read,” I heard the same condescending voice from Severus’ potions class earlier that day.

“Little Malfoy,” I smiled down at him, closing my book. “And why would you assume that? I don’t look that stupid, do I?”

“Well, no,” He fumbled. “But you’re a ghost, you’re dead,”

“Yes, and I like to read, anything else?” I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t call me little Malfoy. My name’s Draco,” He huffed.

“But it annoys you,” I mocked a pout. “And you are a little Malfoy, a bit taller than your father, but young all the same,”

“Who are you calling young? We’re the same age,” His voice raised enough that Pince had to shush him.

“I was born in 1776, I think you’re a little young,”

“1776!?” Draco’s eyes bulged. “But... how? You’re...” Pince hushed him again. I floated down and perched on the desk, trying and failing to contain my laughter.

“Oh, so now you care little Malfoy?” I teased lightly. “What happened to your dismissal of spirits not hours ago?” He didn’t have an answer for that. He just stared and didn’t dare to meet my eyes. “If you really want to know, I’ll tell you some time, but you’re going to be late for McGonagall if you don’t get going,”

Flustered, Draco headed out of the library and I watched him go. Knowing that Remus had a class this hour with the infamous Harry Potter, I headed over and perched on a desk in the back.

“Miss Y/n,” Remus acknowledged, “Perhaps you’d like to aid us today as we learn about ghosts and spirits?” Even though he had grown quite a bit over the years, there was still the same shine in his eyes when he was able to teach—even if it wasn’t a rag-tag group of marauders.

“So... you’re a ghost?” A young Hermione asked, a girl who spent a lot of hours in my library.

“Yes,” I smiled at her. “There are different types of ghosts however,”

“Oh, yes, Poltergeists, Funnels, Whisps, Orbs, and Shades,” She said matter-of-factly.

“Exactly, and Hogwarts has them all,” I looked to Remus who nodded for me to continue. “Most of you know that Peeves is a Poltergeist, a trickster loud ghost. Sometimes they were loud and violent, sometimes... well sometimes you have something like Peeves.” The class laughed.

“I’m sure you all have heard of the Grey Lady?” Remus interjected. “Helena Ravenclaw was murdered by the Bloody Baron and spends the rest of her days here at Hogwarts, they are both what we classify as Funnel ghosts. Ghosts who visit loved ones or loved places,”

“What about Whisps?” An intrigued Weasley asked.

“Well, most others are Whisps,” I explained. “Nearly Headless Nick, the Fat Friar, and most others you see strolling about. There is no strict reason that they’re here, other than they chose not to move on, or felt their work on earth was not completed.”

“Orbs are normally the spirits of animals or humans travelling about,” I continued, “They mainly show up in photographs. It wasn’t till after I died that cameras were invented, and they were found,”

“Any what kind of ghost are you?” A shy kid in the back asked. The class of kids turned to me, all expectant.

“I’m a Shade,” I explained. “It means that when I died, I wasn’t meant to. My soul knowing that, remained, and here I am,”

“Shades are very rare in the Wizarding World,” Remus cut in, “Not many are killed before their time, and many of them are very young,”

“Aren’t Shades allowed to come back though?” Hermione asked. “Because they were wrongfully killed? Doesn’t fate allow them another chance?”

Remus and I shared a look. I remembered when he had asked me that same question when he was no more than a third year as well. There was a solemn sorrow in his eyes.

“Yes,” I answered hesitantly. “There is a possibility, but the odds are almost impossible. Most of them have to do around prophecies.”

Class had ended, and Hermione waved as she went to leave. I lingered behind a bit with Remus for old times’ sake. He was one who had always been kind to me. I was one who never judged him for being a werewolf before he found his marauders.

“Sirius escaped from Azkaban,” He whispered softly, his gaze fixed on the papers on his desk. “I... I thought I was over it. Over him. He had my best friends killed,”

Pity flooded my chest as I hovered over to him, my hand ghosting above his.

“That wasn’t your fault Remus...” Was I going to give away the truth that I knew? Or would I keep it a secret? “And it wasn’t Sirius’ either,”

“How can you say that!” Remus slammed his hand on the desk. “He gave away Lily and James’ location! Then he killed Peter!”

“Remus,” I shook my head. “I can’t tell you everything, because it’s not in the stars, but... your friend isn’t who you think he is,”

A quiet moment passed between us and rather than get upset at me like I had thought he would, he spoke softly and surely.

“You’re... you’re saying there’s hope?”

“There’s always hope,” I offered a soft smile. “For all of us... even me,”

“How are you doing with that? The prophecy?” He asked.

I sighed and shook my head. “I might really be stuck like this for the rest of... forever...”

“Is there anything...?”

“No,” I denied softly. “Interfering with a prophecy can ruin it,”

“Can,” Remus stressed. “Not that it will,”

“But is it worth that risk?” I countered. “I could lose my one shot to come back. To be human again,”

“If I could be human again, I’d take any chance I could,” Remus’ eyes held a sadness that very few could sympathize with. One of those was me.

“Perhaps you’re right,” I murmured and let him be, drifting around the halls for a bit then back to the library to think some more and maybe find the right answer.

What I didn’t expect to find however was Draco, fast asleep where we had spoken earlier, draped over a few books and handwritten notes. I hadn’t noticed the late hour, sometimes time did elude me, and the days seemed to run together.

I didn’t want to wake the young Malfoy, instead, I peered at the books underneath him. Potions books, it seemed. Supposing that a Slytherin might have a partiality to Snape’s class, there was no need to question why he’d rather work on this subject than the others. Knowing Pince would chase Draco out of the library if he didn’t wake, my notion to not disturb him fell to the wayside.

“Malfoy!” I whispered loudly. “Draco, wake up!”

It was useless to try and shake him awake, I wasn’t able to. I could however pull the book out from under his resting head. So, I did.

“Bloody hell,” Draco grumbled, rubbing his eyes. “What’d you do that for?”

“You fell asleep?”

“And that was the only way you know how to wake a person?” He snapped, blinking into consciousness.

I gave him a flat look and reached out to touch him. He shied away, but it was in vain because my hand passed right through his material body.

“Oh,” He muttered. “But you can touch the books?”

“Pince and I worked on that together,” I informed him. “Did you think I would spend eternity and not figure out how to read?”

“I... uh,” He stammered, blushing a bit. “How come I’ve never met a ghost like you before?”

“And that means?” I pressed, perching on the desk.

“Well, all of the other ghosts are... I don’t know... stuck in their ways? Not sad about being ghosts? Haven’t kept up on things like reading?”

“You think I’m sad about being a ghost?” I mused.

“I... you—I mean,” He stammered, looking down in embarrassment. “You just seem... optimistically hopeless,” It was almost mumbled through his exhaustion.

“You know those words have opposite meaning, right?” I teased softly. “And... I’m a Shade. I doubt you’ve met another before like me,”

“A Shade?”

“Do you not pay attention in Remus’ class?” I raised an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t have his class until tomorrow,” Draco dismayed. “And it’s a stupid class anyway,”

“Defense against the dark arts isn’t stupid,” I refuted. “Especially with Remus teaching it,”

“You knew him then... when he went here. Professor Lupin,” Draco noted.

“Yes,” Lost in thought, a quietness passed before I spoke again. “When you learn what a Shade is, you’ll understand,”

“You could just tell me,” Draco whined, listlessly tired.

“But then you won’t pay attention in class,” I smiled. “Go on to bed, Draco. I’m not going anywhere,”

____________________________

Draco sulked in bed that night, thinking about you. Thinking about what a Shade was. Of course, he didn’t wait for class in the morning, instead he took out his DADA book and began to read up on ghosts. And he read. And read. And read. And barely found anything about what a Shade was. All that he knew was that you died when before your time. Maybe that was why he saw the sadness in your eyes.

He had every intention to be at Lupin’s class that day, but having Mythical Creatures beforehand, things hadn’t gone as planned.

“There’s always one,” Your voice sounded amused. “Why am I not surprised it was you, Little Malfoy?”

“It was the bloody hippogriff,” Draco snapped back.

“And somehow I don’t think that’s the entire truth,” You mused, hovering at his bedside. Until Pomfrey gave him the clear to leave, he was stuck with you.

“Won’t you just leave me alone?” He groaned, closing his eyes and laying back on the lumpy pillows of the hospital cot.

“Did you not want to learn about Shades? You’re going to miss Remus’ class after all,” The smile he heard in your voice made him look over to you, skeptical.

Your offer was tempting. Very tempting. He didn’t care much about magic other than excelling at it, therefore things that didn’t pertain to his advancement—mythical creatures and the like— held no inkling to him. And yet, you were a mystery he didn’t mind learning about. He wanted to know more about you. And you specifically.

“I guess, since I’m stuck here,” He tried to play it off as nonchalance, but you raised an eyebrow at him, seeing right through his charade.

“Well, Little Malfoy,” You hovered and perched on the end of his bed. “What do you know?”

“I... uh. Shades are people who have died before their time,” He stammered, not sure why he was so nervous.

“Quite,” You nodded. “Anything else?”

“Our book didn’t have anything else,” He admitted.

You went pensive a moment then nodded. “I suppose that you’d learn more about me in Divination than the Dark Arts,”

“Divination? You’ve got to be bloody joking! That class is a circus!” Draco exclaimed, wincing when he moved his arm too much.

“Perhaps,” You didn’t berate him, but seemed to be lost in thought once more. “But all Shades are tied to prophecies.”

“All of them?” Draco pressed.

“The fates understand that these souls left before their time, and give them another chance, a prophecy... to come back and live one more time.”

“So, you have the chance to live again?” His genuine curiosity seemed to shock both of you. “How?”

“If the prophecy is fulfilled, then I get to live again,” You said it as if it were obvious.

“So, why haven’t you, I don’t know... fulfilled it?” Draco asked.

You laughed something sad and soft. “Don’t you think I’ve tried? I’ve read every prophecy, every book, every scribble. I’ve tried everything... after so many centuries, you give up hope and accept your fate,”

“But this wasn’t your fate,” He argued back. “You were meant to live, back then, whatever that life was,”

“Do you know what happened when I was young, before I died, Little Malfoy?” You spoke, and he could hear the age in your voice though you liked no older than he was. It was your sorrow that aged you. He waited for you to continue. “I was born in 1776, the year the Americans went to war with the King of England. At the time we were living in the French countryside with my aunt because my father had gone to fight in the war. He was a general,” A smile ghosted your lips. “My father died in the war... the battle of Yorktown... that’s what it’s called today. Back then it was just a letter and inheritance money that went to my brother,”

“Hang on, you’re saying that your father fought in the American War of Independence? Under the king?”

“So, he can be taught,” You smiled at him. “Yes, the king at the time was a wizard and until parliament and the ministry were born and declared that muggles and wizards should rule themselves. Of course, the ministry was formed in the beginning of that century, but it took the war for them to call the final straw.”

“So, your father died in the war, that doesn’t explain what happened to you,” Draco pointed out, deeply invested.

“Well, tell me, what happened in France after that war ended?”

“The French Revolution,”

Your warm smile had the same effect as the sun. “Yes, and as I said, I was in France at the time, being tutored at home for the summer. Muggle girls weren’t allowed to go to school back then... I travelled to Hogwarts to receive schooling and even then, I was only allowed to learn Herbology and Potions. At least those two classes stayed the same,” You sounded sad and wistful. “But the revolutionists were going for the rich, any sort of rich. And at the time, they saw knowledge as wealth and power, and I had a reputation for being able to read and attending a private school out of the country and well...”

“They killed you because you knew how to read?” Draco distressed, sitting up, enraptured by your tale. “That’s so... stupid,”

“It was. But perhaps it was my own fault, I wouldn’t deny that I could read. I was proud.” Your smile faded again as melancholy settled on your face. “Now it seems that’s all I do. Fate is funny like that...”

“You’re free to go Mr. Malfoy,” Madam Pomfrey’s voice seemed to draw you both from whatever world had been created with your words.

He had to blink a few times to come to grips with the fact that he was currently in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, and not centuries behind, trying to imagine death for the reason of knowledge. There was an awkward moment between the two of you as you both seemed to realize that you were no longer int eh late eighteenth century. You offered a smile and left without another word, a curious look on your face as you left.

That was the last time he saw you that day, and that week for that matter, but he always wondered what you were doing. What were you reading today? What was your prophecy? Was it really as hopeless as you said it was? Was there a reason that he found himself caring?

______________________

“Oh, hello Harry,” I stood from the corner of Remus’ office, intrigued that the young Potter had come. He looked so much like his father that my heart ached for Remus and to imagine what he felt when he saw Harry.

“Y/n,” Harry seemed surprised. “I... uh... you know Professor Lupin?”

“Well I was here when he went to Hogwarts himself, so yes, I’m quite fond of him if you can believe it,” I smiled as Remus eyed the situation.

“Is there something that you needed Harry?” Remus asked, trying to sound professional, but I could hear the sentiment in his voice.

“The map...” Harry turned slightly pink.

A smile grew on my face. “You have the Marauder’s Map?” I almost laughed. “How in the world did you get that? Oh, if your father knew,” I did laugh this time.

Remus shot me a sharp look and Harry looked at me in wonder.

“My father? You knew my father?” The realization seemed to dawn him.

“Yes, well,” Remus interjected sharply. “Don’t get caught again Potter,”

“Why haven’t you told him?” I demanded as soon as Harry left. “Remus, come on, that’s not fair to Harry,”

“I’m not the one to tell him though! I can’t be!” He protested and I could hear the anxiety in his voice.

“Remus, I’ve known you a long time. And I’ve known James and Lily. They would want you to talk to him. They would want you apart of his life,” I argued, or perhaps encouraged softly.

“Maybe you’re right,” Remus mumbled.

“Of course, I am,” I smiled. “It’ll work out Re, with Sirius, and with Harry,”

“I hope you’re right,”

I left him to his thoughts and on my way to the library, I was ambushed by the younger Potter. Not that I wasn’t expecting it, I knew that Harry would have questions for me as soon as he knew I knew his father.

“Hello Harry,” I smiled.

“You know about my dad,” He burst out, hope in his eyes and tone.

“And your mother,” I smiled and perched on the windowsill nearby.

“Can you tell me about them? Please?” His eyes went glossy with tears that he blinked away.

“Your mother was bold, but still kind and gentle. She looked out for the little guy. She rooted for the underdog and protected the younger years of any House. She was always kind to me. Her and Remus both.” The memory was fond, if it was a memory. Did ghosts have memories after they were dead?

“And my dad?” He clung to every word.

“He... was a bit like you. Always finding trouble whether it was his fault or not. Totally deserved to be smacked a few times... but the war changed him. He grew up rather quickly. Into a protective caring young man. Almost everyone had eyes for him, but he only saw your mother,”

“Do... you think they would be proud of me?” His gaze dropped to his beat-up sneakers.

“Harry,” I called his attention. “You’re their son, they’ll always be proud of you,”

“But—”

“No buts,” I interjected. “That’s all it takes for you to make them proud, I promise,”

He nodded and mumbled a thanks before taking off toward the Gryffindor dorm. Finding solace in the library, I began to read again. Maybe a week had passed. Perhaps two. I wasn’t sure. I was so wrapped up in my books that I became lost to time. Until a blond-haired boy came in, his nose stuck in a book.

“I was wondering when I’d see you again Little Malfoy,” I smiled, from my perch in the library. He didn’t acknowledge me, causing me to frown. “Draco?” I ghosted down and perched on the table next to him. “Are you ghosting a ghost?”

Though he ignored me I could see the smile that twitched at his lips. That gave me little hope. “Is everything alright?” I asked, genuine concern coloring my voice.

“Ask Potter,” Draco snapped. “You seem to fancy him lately,”

“Excuse me?” I was taken aback. “Harry? He just wanted to know about his parents, that’s all,”

Draco frowned at this and he finally looked at me. “His parents?”

“Yes,” I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like he has a lot of people who know his parents and are willing to tell him anything. Dumbledore has made almost everyone vow not to talk to him, but what good is a vow to someone who’s already in the grave?” I shrugged. “Poor kid knows nothing,”

“I...” Draco didn’t seem to have the words. Instead he looked back down at his book. I smiled and rolled my eyes at his antics.

“If you care that much, you are still my favorite Little Malfoy,” His cheeks tinged pink and I laughed. “You’re something else Malfoy, you know that?”

“Says the girl who died for admitting that she could read instead of lying,” He raised an eyebrow at me. I chuckled and shrugged.

“Says the boy who avoided me for what, two weeks, because I talked to a boy about his dead parents,” I mused.

“It wasn’t two weeks,” Draco grumbled. “Nine days,”

“Oh, forgive me,” I laughed. “Nine days.”

He smiled and looked back down at his notes. I think it was the first time I had ever seen him smile and not sneer.

“So, nine days,” He prompted. “I assume you haven’t left the library... read anything interesting?”

I laughed and somehow the hours passed as Draco and I spoke about books and stories we had read as kids, and the ones we were currently invested in. It shocked me to know that he was an avid reader, of fantasy novels, nonetheless. Though I had read just about everyone that he had mentioned, there were a few that I added to my mental list of his that I said I would check out. He seemed sincerely happy at my interest of the books he read.

“Father thought they were childish,” He muttered when I asked him about it. “Fairytales and fantasies,”

“That’s stupid,” I scoffed, and Draco gaped at me, aghast that I would dare to call something his father said ‘stupid.’ It made me pause. “You... you know you don’t have to always agree with your parents,”

His gaze cast downward. “I don’t want to disappoint them,”

My face furrowed. “You’re they’re son, that’s enough for them to be proud,”

“You don’t know my parents,” He scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “I think the last time they were proud of me, is when I was sorted into Slytherin.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” I protested.

“You don’t know my parents,” Draco argued again.

“I do,” I retorted. “Or I did,”

The notion seemed to dawn on Draco as he stared up at me with wonder in his eyes.

“You did,” He realized. “Can you tell me about them... have they always been so...”

“Strict?” I offered.

“Suffocating,” Draco supplied.

I pressed my lips together and thought a moment.

“Your father, perhaps. I never spoke to him much, and he never paid me mind. But you mother,” I smiled at the memories that came flooding back. “She was bold, cunning. She loved her sisters with a fierce passion.” My smile. “The three of them were some of the brightest witches I’d ever seen,” I glanced over to him. “You have her eyes, her same spirit,”

A smile drew on his lips as his face turned a soft shade of pink. “Do you know that because you’re a ghost?” He mused.

“No, I’m just a girl who can read character pretty well. After seeing so many faces pass through here, and reading so many stories, there are those who stand out and stay with you. Your mother... she stood out to me. And I can see her in your eyes,” My demeanor softened as I realized the words I was saying and if I could have, I would have blushed.

“Thank you,” He whispered as the clock chimed a late hour.

“You should head back,” I sighed softly. “Get some rest,”

“Why don’t I ever see you near the Slytherin dorm?” Draco asked, gathering his things.

“I’d rather not cross paths with the Baron,” I admitted.

“The Baron? Why?” Draco frowned; his bag slung over his shoulder.

“Never you mind,” I smiled. “Get to bed Little Malfoy,”

“Don’t call me that,” He grumbled, trudging out of the library.

The night progressed as did the month and I went from one book to another, soon searching for a book I hadn’t in a long time. My diary from when I was alive. Published as its own book that I had found a few decades ago. Tucked into the pages was what held my fate. My prophecy.

I went to the shelf in which I knew my book had its home, but it wasn’t there. Instead a sliver of time carved away by my missing book. Drifting over to Pince I asked her about where my book had gone. She told me that Malfoy had checked it out and had it for about a week—since the day we spent in the infirmary together.

For the first time in a long time I felt... embarrassed that my story and thoughts were on display for anyone to read. I never cared before, but this felt different.

Cursing the late hour, I knew that there was no way to get to Draco now. The Bloody Baron was protective about other ghosts coming into the Slytherin dorms. I’d have to find him in the morning then. I considered loitering outside the Slytherin portrait, but I also did not want to go anywhere near the Bloody Baron. I had heard and read enough.

So instead I headed to the Astronomy Tower to watch the stars again, having silent conversations with them, wondering if they’d ever grant me life again.

“You’re glowing,”

The voice startled me enough that I actually jumped. The irony of scaring a ghost. I turned to see Draco behind me, his eyes glued to my shimmering skin.

“Yes, all ghosts do it under the moon and stars,” I noted. “By the way, can I have my book back?” I stood, going over to him.

“Your book?” He questioned.

“My book,” I restressed. “My diary? That you have from the library? The one that has my—” I stopped myself.

“Your prophecy.” Draco finished, offering me the book that he had drawn from his robes. “Yeah, I know.”

I stared at him curiously, pulling the book back into the security of my arms, where it belonged. That uncertain feeling returned to my chest.

“You know it’s rude to read a girl’s diary,” I retorted, defensive.

“It’s a published book in the library, anyone can read it,” Draco rolled his eyes. I gave him a flat look and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “So, have you figured out what it means?”

I sighed softly and shook my head in defeat. “The only thing I’m sure of is the great star is Sirius,”

“Sirius, like Sirius Black? Escaped Azkaban criminal?” Draco exasperated.

“Well, the star is his name sake. But I’m sure you of all people know that Draco,” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Your family has a knack for celestial namesakes. If I remember correctly, Sirius is your mother’s cousin,”

“What?” Draco demanded. “No! There is no way!”

“Draco,” I reached out for him in vain as he paced in anger and confusion. “Draco will you calm down?” I nearly shouted.

“Calm down!? How can I when I know that I’m related to that criminal!?” He demanded.

“Sirius isn’t a criminal!” I argued back. “He didn’t kill Peter or those people!” I gasped, covering my mouth in shame, my eyes wide. That was a secret that I wasn’t supposed to tell.

“What do you mean he didn’t kill those people?” Draco sneered, stalking up to me.

“I—I’m not supposed to...” I took a step back, ghostly tears welling in my eyes. “I wasn’t supposed to... Merlin,” I cried, sliding to the ground.

Draco’s demeanor changed from anger to worried and concerned. Not that I noticed through my distress. I felt as if I had just betrayed one of my best friends.

“Y/n, what... what in the world are you talking about?” Draco asked sitting beside me, a failed attempt to reach out and comfort me.

“I promised. I promised I wouldn’t tell what I knew until the time was right,” I sobbed. “Bloody hell, he’ll never trust me again,” I squeaked.

“Who?” Draco demanded.

I looked at him, wide eyed with fear, shaking my head softly. “I... I can’t. I’m sorry Draco,”

I dematerialized and rematerialized in a quiet portion of the castle grounds, away from the rest of the students, among the woods. The trees welcomed me and the further I walked in, the less tied to the castle I felt. I came to a lake and sat beside it. Crying tears that would never fall in my undead state, I stared at the water and my lack of reflection.

“I’m so sorry Sirius,” I wept softly. “I didn’t mean to tell him... I was just defending you,”

“I’m surprised you kept the secret this long,”

Again, I jumped, startled by the voice behind me.

“Hey there Spooks,” Sirius gave a lopsided smile, the years in Azkaban resting in his eyes and in the lines on his face.

“Sirius,” I gasped. “What are you doing? It’s not safe here!” I protested.

“I couldn’t leave my girl to cry, now could I?” He smirked, before his expression sobered.

“You should,” I sniffed. “I’m so sorry Sirius, it slipped out,”

“I know,” He held his hands up in a calming effort. “I knew it would, and it’s okay. Who did you tell? It wasn’t Moony was it?”

“No,” I looked down. “But you need to tell him Sirius, he deserves to know,”

“He won’t even talk to me. He thinks that I betrayed James and Lily and killed all of his friends,” Sirius toed at the dirt—the same tick he had in his Hogwarts years when he had been caught in a lie or prank.

“But you didn’t,” I protested. “He still loves you Sirius, I can see it in his eyes and when he talks about you and James...”

“He—no,” Sirius shook his head. “That’s not for you to worry about,”

“Do not make me mother you,” I threatened. “Talk to Remus,”

“I will,” Sirius sighed. “When the time is right,”

“As a girl who’s waited for centuries for the right time... talk to him as soon as you can,” There was a pity-filled look on his face that I brushed off.

“Any luck with that? Your prophecy?” He seemed almost hopeful.

“No,” I sighed. “But there is one who took the time to ask this year. Like Remus did his first year,” The memory was a soft spot for both of us.

“You were his first friend,” Sirius smiled at the same memory. “So, who is it this year?”

“Little Malfoy,”

Sirius snorted. “We both know you don’t have a sense of humor, drop the act,”

“I’m ser—” He gave me a look and I paused to rephrase. “I’m telling the truth. It was Draco who asked, who read my diary, and knows about the prophecy,” I hesitated. “He’s also the one I told,” My gaze dropped to the ground waiting for the backlash.

“Malfoy!?” Sirius demanded. “You told Malfoy!?”

“I’m sorry! I told you I was sorry!” I shouted back, bristling, feeling my body shudder. Sirius seemed to notice and took a few paces away and composed himself.

I dared to speak. “All he knows is that you didn’t kill Peter. That’s all. I’m so sorry Sirius,” I turned, and he was gone. “Fine! Leave!” I shouted. “Like always... like everyone...”

I let out a scream of frustration that was carried away with the wind. Letting out a sigh of defeat I wandered up to the castle again.

“Y/n?” For the third time tonight, I jumped at the call of my name. It was Draco again.

“Draco, look,” I started. “I...”

“No,” He stopped me softly. “I’m sorry... I...” He shook his head and took off down the hall towards the Slytherin dorms. Chasing after him, he was too far gone, and I was face to face with the Baron.

“Oh, could this night get any worse?” I shouted to no one in particular. “I don’t mean to trespass, apologies.”

“Stay out of my territory and away from my students, you little harlot,” The Baron sneered.

“Gladly,” I growled back. “Arse,” I muttered as I ghosted back to the upper levels of the castle.

Utterly lost on what to do, I found myself by the Black Lake, staring up at the moon and stars. I stayed there until the sun rose over the dark waters, painting the valleys in a golden light. I remained there, watching the sun and moon dance in the sky in an unchangeable waltz that continued for eternity.

“They said you were out here,”

I didn’t jump this time at the sound of his voice as the moon rose to her duet again.

“Hello, Draco,” I murmured softly. “Come to watch the stars with me?”

“Sure,” I could hear the smile in his voice as he sat beside me on the bank of the lake, the only sound was the music of the night, the lake lapping at the small beach, and his gentle breaths.

“I... I’m really sorry,” He murmured softly. “For that night, I didn’t mean to get so angry. I wasn’t upset with you...” Silence fell softly between us. “My parents never told me... I wrote to my mother...” My eyes widened as I gazed over at him, his pale skin almost having the same affect that mine did in the moon light. “I never knew...”

“I’m sorry,” I offered.

“Merlin don’t apologize to me,” He laughed hopelessly.

“Well I did sort of freak out on you, so... sorry.”

He shrugged and his gaze fixed on the moonlit water. “My father thinks it’s absurd that I’m talking to you... and I think my mother is slightly worried about me for it,”

“Any particular reason?” I mused.

“Father has always been against those different than him in any way... my mother probably worries that I’m not making friends...talking to ghosts...” A smile toyed at his lips at the mention of his mother.

“Are we not friends then?” I teased lightly, causing him to laugh.

“Sure,” He rolled his eyes at me, this time causing me to laugh. “Do you miss them?” He asked after a quiet moment.

“Who?”

“Your parents... your family?” He seemed almost afraid to ask.

I pondered the question. “Yes, sometimes... but I’ve spent a lot of years wasting tears that will never fall over people I can never see again... you move on and learn to live after a while... well as much as a ghost can live,”

“You can’t cry, can you?” He came to the fact easier and saner than most did.

I shook my head. “I can feel bitter sorrow, the worst loss, but I can never shed a tear,” I chuckled humorlessly. “The irony, I have the most to mourn and I can’t even cry,”

“I’m sorry,”

I shrugged. “I’ve lived a long time without being able to cry... just reminds me that I’ll never be quite human again,”

“But you could be,” He had more hope than I ever had about the fact.

“Yeah,” I scoffed. “That stupid prophecy,”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,”

“You’ve haven’t spent centuries wondering what it meant,” I argued back:

“In the days when evil lurks around every corner;

The condemned will become innocent;

And the innocent will become condemned;

True love can reanimate a deceased heart;

Under the star of Great Dog;

She will become alive as time is altered;

Two souls will be set free that day as the star takes her place.”

“True love,” I scoffed again; my lips pressed together. “Like some sort of stupid fairytale,”

“I thought you said that fairytales weren’t stupid,” Draco raised an eyebrow at me smirking.

“They’re not,” I rolled my eyes. “Believing that there’s true love out there to save me? That’s stupid,”

“Then maybe there’s no hope for any of us,” Draco sighed. “If someone like you can’t find true love, where’s the hope for the rest of us,”

A smile ghosted me lips at his words as I looked over to him, his eyes still trained on the water.

“You’re really sweet sometimes, you know that Malfoy?” His eyes darted to mine as his cheeks tinged pink.

“Will you come back inside?” He asked softly. “The library isn’t as interesting without you there,”

“Sure,” I smiled warmly at him.

Fall turned to winter turned to spring, and Draco and I spent a lot more time together than I cared to admit. He was almost easier to talk to than anyone else I had met. And that was saying something, because I knew Remus Lupin, who was fascinated with my fascination of the young Malfoy.

But all the same, I found myself crave Draco’s company more and more and cursing the Baron for not letting me see him while he was in his dorm. It was rough when he came down with a cold and I wasn’t able to see him for a week. No number of books could distract me from the fact that he wasn’t there to talk to. That he wasn’t here to talk to me. I had never missed anyone like this before.

But when he felt better, we’d press curfew to mere minutes just to get another word in with each other. Then he’d have to be human and I’d have to remember that I didn’t belong in his world and never could. It didn’t stop me, however, from finding and talking to him the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.

Then there was a day in late spring that caught my attention as Sirius had finally gotten to Harry and his friends, but things had gone from bad to worse as I watched the scene unfold, doing the only thing I could think of, I spirited away to find Remus. He would know what to do, he would know how to help.

After I had explained what I had seen, Remus grabbed his wand and took off towards the Whomping Willow. I followed him, and as soon as I left the castle, I felt the dark presence of the dementors around me.

“No!” I shouted, going up to meet them, and for the first time in a long time gave into my spiritual power, long enough to hold them off and let Remus pass through safely.

I hovered over the Shrieking Shack, keeping the dementors as bay, away from Sirius, away from Remus. They didn’t dare to go near my pure light that was amplified by the full moon. Soon I saw the three of them emerge, Peter in chains, when the light of the full moon hit my little Remus.

With a cry of desperation, I did my best to keep the dementors away as I watched the horrors unfold before me before I couldn’t take it any long and chased after Remus, who was not a wolf into the wood.

“Remus!?” I shouted; my voice lost with the wind. “Remus, it’s me! Please come out!” I caught sight of Hermione and Harry and gestured that they should leave, and quickly. “Remus!?”

I heard a growl and turned, seeing golden scared eyes.

“Hey,” I cooed softly. “You’re alright, you can’t hurt me,”

A pained howl left his lips.

“I know,” I replied. “But you’re going to be alright, let get you back, yeah? To Prongs and Pads, they’re waiting for you.” Tears I wanted to cry weren’t shed at the pitiful heartbreaking whine that left his lips.

But he let me lead him back to the Shrieking Shack all the same. I stayed with him until McGonagall and Dumbledore came. There was a soft thank you from the both of them. I drifted back to the castle, pacing in anxiety.

“Y/n?” It was Draco’s voice. I turned.

“Draco, it’s not safe!” I squeaked. “What are you doing out of bed!?”

“I had to see you,” He confessed. “There are rumors, about Black and Lupin... I thought you’d... Are you alright?”

“Draco, really,” I glanced around, cursing that I couldn’t drag him inside to where it was safer. “It’s not safe for you out here,”

“Bloody hell, Y/n, what about you!?”

“I’m already dead! So, unless you’d like to join me!” I shouted, realizing after the fact what I had said. “Draco, I didn’t mean that,”

“You’re keeping things from me,” It was a broken accusation. “About Sirius, about Remus,”

“Draco, please,” I pulled away. “I... I have to go, I have to make sure that he’s alright,” My eyes trailed up to the top of the tower, knowing that I may have been the reason that Sirius was in chains again.

“No!” Draco shouted, drawing my attention.

He had never demanded anything of me before, not like this. It wasn’t the fact that he told me to stop, it was the notion that he had found his own voice in it that caused me to pause. I waited for him to continue.

“I’ve spent all year, all of my three years here, knowing you, and getting to know you and I’m not going to let you walk away again! I want to know! I don’t want this you can’t tell me act. If anyone, you can tell me. Can’t you trust me? Please,” His voice broke, unshed tears in his eyes.

“Draco,” My non-material heart broke a bit as he stood before me, vulnerable. Shaking and terrified I nodded. “Remus... is a werewolf. Sirius is an Animagus. Peter betrayed the Potters, and Sirius went to confront him. Peter faked his death and killed all those people and it was blamed on Sirius...” In my nervousness I began to ramble:

“...and Sirius and Remus confronted Peter tonight and Harry and his friends were there and I had to fight off dementors so that Sirius would be okay because I couldn’t bear to see him get hurt for something he didn’t do and then I had to go and help Remus because it’s a full moon and he won’t hurt me but for the love of merlin he will hurt you so will you please go inside!”

Draco gaped at me, in utter disbelief.

“Please Draco, go inside,”

“Only if you come with me,” He recovered.

My thoughts for Sirius were forgotten as I took a step closer to him. Instead, all I could see and focus on was the heartbreak on his face and the hand that he held out for me. A hand that I wanted to accept but knew that I couldn’t because I would phase right through him. Never had I loathed being dead so much but in that moment when all I wanted to do was comfort him.

For the first time in almost two hundred years, tears slid down my cheeks. I barely noticed.

“Please,” His voice shook as did his hand as it remained extended to me. “Please, Y/n,”

The moon fell behind the mountains as the sun shed her first light onto us.

And with reckless abandon, I reached out for him, for his hand. In desperation and false hope, closing my eyes, knowing my heart would never break more that in the next few moments for not being a part of his world.

Then my hand felt softness and warmth.

I gasped and jerked back, and Draco seemed to realize this as I did.

“You just...” He stammered.

“I...” Trembling, I held my hand up, the sunlight no longer passing through it but refracting off of it. I finally reached up and felt the wetness of tears on my cheeks as I gasped in pure joy.

“I’m human,” I laughed, “I’m human!” I marveled at my rosy skin and the soft green fabric of my dress as I felt the grass beneath my feet. After a moment, I, at last, looked to Draco, who seemed to be frozen in a state of wonder and disbelief, and almost... scared.

“Draco,” I called softly, “It’s me,” I offered my hand to him, the grin not leaving my face.

“You’re... and...”

I nodded and smiled, taking a step closer to him. “Not scared of ghosts, are you?” I teased softly.

He finally laughed and took my hand, pulling me close, into the comfort of his arms. I began to cry again because for the first time in two hundred and fifty years, I was hugged. I clung to him, my fingers marveling at the softness of his shirt, trailing up into his hair.

“Merlin,” Draco pulled away softly. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,”

Before I could ask him what he meant—or argue that I had been waiting longer than he ever had—he pressed his lips to mine, and in that moment, I swear I could have died all over again in his arms.

In the days when evil lurks around every corner,

The condemned will become innocent,

And the innocent will become condemned.

True love can reanimate a deceased heart,

Under the star of Great Dog,

She will become alive as time is altered;

Two souls will be set free that day as the star takes her place.

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beautifully beastly

hufflepuff series

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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years ago

Text

Guest Side Story

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Sarah Wilson Rating: T Word Count: 3214

Summary: Sam told Bucky not to flirt with Sarah. But this is her house, so Bucky's pretty sure she makes the rules.

Bucky’s missed white lies. Ones that don’t hurt anybody.

“Is that cigarette smoke I smell on your coat, James Barnes?” “No, Ma. ’Course not.”

“And you’re sure this dame knows it’s my arm she’ll be on?” ��Sure, Steve. She’s been after me to fix the two of you up for weeks.”

Stuff like that.

Past few years, Bucky’s either been transparent or a brick wall, all lies or all truth. Which one he loses more sleep over just depended on the day. The most human thing, he’s learning, is to work with a little of both: fact and fiction. Give something here, hold something back there. Lying doesn’t have to be mean-spirited and telling the truth doesn’t have to make him feel hollow and guilty. Maybe you can only realize this kinda thing when you find your way home, even if the home isn’t yours.

Bucky’s standing in the kitchen listening to Cass teach him how to fish. It’s purely theoretical, no gear involved, just the overexaggerated motion of Cass’s arm as he mimes casting. Laughing, Bucky lightly grabs the boy’s elbow before it can collide with the refrigerator on an especially big swing. Cass downsizes his demonstration without pausing the excited flow of his instructions.

AJ catches Bucky’s eye; from the look on his face, he’s beginning to suspect that Bucky might already know how to fish. While Cass is focused hard on his hands pretending to show how to fit live bait onto a hook, Bucky smiles at AJ over the smaller boy’s head and raises a finger to his lips. White lies. Let Cass believe he’s the expert.

When Cass is winding down, Bucky moves around him with a grin, carrying an empty plate to the sink.

“I got it!” AJ declares, whisking it from Bucky’s hand and pumping a squirt of dish soap in the center while his other hand runs the hot water.

Cass slotted the Pop-Tarts the plate lately held into the toaster for him (no better end-of-the-day snack, Bucky was told) and now AJ’s cleaning up. They’re a hospitable family, all day long. No phoniness, no insincere offers of help that they’re hoping Bucky won’t take them up on. He actually had to race the kids to the shed to store a toolbox earlier. On the boat, Bucky has room to put in the effort for the Wilsons, but inside the walls of their home he’s not allowed to do a damn thing because he’s a guest. Per square foot of property, he doesn’t think he’s ever been treated this well in someone else’s house.

“Fine,” Bucky concedes, “but I’m doing all the dishes tomorrow—breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And don’t get up early to drink a glass of orange juice and try to wash it before I’m awake, ’cause I’ll be listening.”

The boys giggle and Bucky leans against the counter, hovering while AJ hands the plate off for Cass to wipe dry and pretending not to listen to Sam and Sarah talking in the next room.

…But there isn’t a full wall separating the kitchen from the living room and Sam knows Bucky’s hearing’s good, right? He doesn’t think they’re discussing anything that private and if Sam’s annoyed with him later for what he supposes Bucky might’ve heard, Bucky’ll just offer up another white lie and swear he couldn’t hear a thing. And Sarah… Sarah wouldn’t think any worse of him if she knew. Bucky imagines she’d have a lot of compassion for his frequent urge to give Sam a hard time just for the hell of it. He flicks a quick glance over his shoulder, just to see her, and concentrates on what they’re saying, giving himself vague permission because he overheard his name.

“This was your idea,” Sarah’s saying. “You brought the stray cat home, just like when we were kids.”

“Don’t compare him to something cute,” Sam complains. Bucky’s mouth tenses to keep his smile from spreading too far.

“He is a guest in my home, Sam, and he’s more than earned it after the work he’s been putting in with the boat.”

“And what about the work you’ve been putting in watching him do that work?”

“Sam. Grow up.” Sarah’s voice is playful and Bucky almost turns, wondering what her expression looks like.

“So you’ve just been appreciating his skill with a wrench and some sandpaper,” Sam says skeptically.

“If I’m also appreciating his shoulders in that shirt— if—” she emphasizes when Sam tries to interrupt, “—it’s nobody’s business but mine.”

“Ok, you definitely can’t have him sleeping on the couch.”

“What do you think I’m gonna do? Try to sneak him to my bedroom after lights out? With you listening, trying to catch us? Uh uh. Your sister is a grown woman with two children, a home, and a boat she couldn’t manage to sell, and she can lust where she damn well pleases.”

Bucky snorts out a laugh and AJ gives him a funny look. Kid’s too perceptive.

“He’s tricky,” Sam lectures. “You can’t see it, but I do. I’ve been around him a hell of a lot more. You think he smiles like that at everybody? If he smiles at me at all, I gotta assume he just looked up and saw a meteor hurtling towards where we’re standing and is only smiling because we’ve got seconds to live and I won’t be able to tell anybody.”

“You are hilarious.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re telling me your friend is charming. That’s what you’re describing. Don’t I deserve to be charmed? Where else is he gonna sleep, huh? With you? In one of the boys’ little beds while they share the other one? Because I know you’re not suggesting we skip the pretense and put him right in with me.”

Sam lets out a noise of obvious frustration.

“Time to intervene,” Bucky tells Cass and AJ, leaving them to swap confused shrugs in the kitchen as he saunters into the living room.

“Hey,” Sam greets stonily, arms crossed over his chest.

Just for fun, Bucky decides to be all the friendlier.

“It’s so great of you to put me up. Thanks, Sarah. This beats a hotel by a mile.”

“Our gourmet kitchen does offer an impressive range of sugary cereal,” she jokes. “I might even cook you boys a special breakfast tomorrow before you head back to the dock.”

Bucky’s grin widens.

“Oh yeah? I wouldn’t wanna—”

“No, it’s no trouble—”

“Well, that would be—”

“Both of you stop it,” Sam orders.

“Sam, go outside,” Sarah orders right back. “Play some tag with your nephews.”

“Sarah, I’m beat. We’ve been working on that boat all day.”

“Mhmm, you and the rest of the neighbourhood. You worked all day and you come home and there’s still two kids to entertain. But guess what?” She smiles deviously at her brother and throws a few fake punches at his stomach. “You’re Sam Wilson, the Falcon! Looks like you’re special after all. Me and Bucky here know you’ve still got some gas in the tank. Go on.”

Sam looks fairly planted to the spot as he glares from his sister to Bucky, but he eventually moves with a lurching step.

“I’m gonna be right outside,” he warns.

Bucky sidesteps out of his path and says nothing, though it’s hard to resist the instinct to egg him on.

“We’re gonna have a super-secret discussion about which towels he can use,” Sarah goads at her brother’s back.

Sam ignores her, corralling his nephews in the kitchen and guiding them out the door into the fading daylight with a hand on each of their narrow backs.

“Great kids,” Bucky observes.

Sarah nods, watching her family disappear, then turns to him.

“We’re not really gonna talk about towels.”

“No?”

Bucky’s eyebrows rise in surprise and delighted anticipation until Sarah grabs a folded blanket off the back of the couch and passes it to him.

“We’re making up the couch.”

“Oh.”

This is ok too. Actually, really nice, standing next to Sarah and unfolding the blanket as she stuffs a pillow into a clean case. Her eyes find his already on her and he swears he almost blushes; he’s been smoothing out the same crease in this blanket for a good thirty seconds with no result, just watching her easy movements, the way she flips her braids back when they fall forward over her shoulder.

“I hope you’re comfortable,” she says, lingering once they’re done.

“I woulda slept on the floor. A closet, even, like Harry Potter.”

“You read Harry Potter? Don’t tell the boys—they’ll be bugging you to play wizards with them.”

Bucky laughs and shakes his head.

“Nah, I just watched the movie.”

“Which one?”

“There’s more than one?”

“You really better not bring it up then,” Sarah advises. “They’d try to tell you everything at once.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to get in out of my depth.”

It feels like a significant look they exchange after his words. Bucky wants it to be—he thinks he does—but he feels awkward, romantically clumsy. Heartstrings tied together like shoelaces, waiting to trip him up. He’s been telling himself she’s only being kind, but after eavesdropping on her conversation with Sam, he knows she’s interested. In his shoulders at the very minimum. Was that right? His shoulders? Just in case, Bucky does his best to square them. Can’t hurt.

He’s fucking ecstatic when Sarah does glance down briefly, her gaze returning to his face with something flustered in it. Sure, she’s a mom and she runs a business, but it’s like she told Sam: she deserves to be charmed. Bucky’s not entirely sure he’s doing it right though.

“So,” she says, “Sam was just being a pain when he tried to convince me you can’t sleep on the couch because you’ve got a bad back, right?”

Bucky sighs but keeps smiling. It’s natural in her presence.

“I’d say that’s him making old-man jokes about me.”

“I apologize for my brother and his bad manners.”

“Ah, he’s not totally wrong,” he concedes, perching on the arm of the couch. “These last few birthdays have required more candles than you could fit on a cake.”

“Then you just have to get yourself a bigger cake.”

Bucky laughs.

“I guess optimism’s pretty much a family trait?”

“We work at it. They say you need to take the good with the bad, but they don’t tell you that means creating the good out of nothing a lot of the time, if you want any at all. The Wilsons worked that out some time ago, so we mostly do alright.”

“It’s a good feeling to be around,” he tells Sarah earnestly. Clearing his throat, he gets to his feet. “Feels good, being around you.”

“We’re… I’m happy you could stay with us.”

The light’s softened in the room and her voice has gone with it. Bucky shifts on his feet.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he assures her.

Sarah’s eyelashes flutter when she looks from his mouth to his eyes. Probably too try-hard to bite his lip now. God, Sam thinks Bucky’s so suave with Sarah, but it feels like he’s only got one move and it’s fucking smiling. Some Casanova he is. Sarah, meanwhile, is beautiful and authoritative and generous and moving closer to toss the pillow he’ll rest his head on tonight onto the couch.

“Anything else you need to be comfortable?” she asks, gaze slipping from one of his eyes to the other. “Another pillow? Pajamas?”

“I’ve got some, but…”

“But?”

Sarah gives him a questioning look and Bucky starts summoning the courage to make a move. He’ll touch her waist—no, take her hand. He’ll cup her sweet face so there’s no doubt what he means.

“But,” he picks up, “if I get cold in the night…”

There’s longing in her eyes, Bucky knows it, but Sam bangs in the screen door right then, one nephew squealing where he’s been slung over Sam’s shoulder.

“Well,” Sam announces loudly to the house at large, “that’s it! No more gas in the tank! Everybody get to bed!”

Sarah appears sorry as she steps back. Bucky almost reaches out to pull her in, to take another shot with another lousy line. Shit, he’s bad at this.

“There are more blankets in the hall closet,” she says, and slips away.

“Thank you,” he calls after her.

Sam walks past, Cass still dangling upside-down over his back while AJ runs ahead, and watches Bucky like a hawk (or some other bird of prey) as he digs through his overnight bag. What’s Sam expecting him to pull out? A strip of condoms? Bucky extracts a green toothbrush and holds it up with an expression of fake wonder. Sam rolls his eyes and heads off down the hall.

They are going to bed early, barely 9pm. That’s probably late for the kids though. Bucky’s pleasantly weary after a day outdoors, more working than talking, feeling like part of something as the Wilsons’ community came together to repair the boat. Seeing Sarah throughout. Flashing Bucky a smile while she spoke to a neighbour, grasping his outstretched hand to let him help her aboard so she could see their progress, checking Sam’s work like she’s his foreman while Bucky grinned and watched the siblings good-naturedly pick at each other. Sam was probably out like a light and Bucky should be too.

He’s not.

He can’t get to sleep right away, but it’s peaceful to lie here on the couch, on his back, while the house gets dark and darker. Sarah left the nearest window cracked for him and a gentle breeze washes in with the chirp of insects. Bucky’s already looking forward to being woken by the sun streaming through in the morning. It’d be good to get from now to daylight in a single stretch of sleep; that’s what he fantasizes about while he lies on his back: no nightmares. His head’s propped up by the pillow he tells himself smells like Sarah, though it probably just smells like her laundry soap.

It’s hard to put his finger on what’s missing, why he can’t fall asleep, until he hears the soft shuffle of footsteps on carpet. They’re too close together to be Sam’s—either hesitant or made by child-sized feet. Bucky cranes his neck around, expecting to see someone walk past on their way to the kitchen for a glass of water. His gaze roams over nothing for a minute, then he slumps back as the footsteps retreat. Maybe it was Sam after all, getting up to look in on his nephews or something. It’s the sorta thing Bucky would do if he were an uncle; he’d treasure the time with those kids, try to remember everything about his visit so he could hang on to it when he found himself half a world away, in Berlin or Riga or Madripoor.

He’s settling, trapping the blanket against his chest with a heavy hand, when he hears the footsteps approach again. Then back away seconds later. Slowly, Bucky starts to smile to himself. It’s Sarah. Can only be her. She’s either trying to psych herself up to come in here and talk to him and failing, or trying to resist venturing down the hall and succeeding.

On her next attempt, she gets closer, and Bucky sits up, kicking the blanket aside, and drops his feet to the floor in anticipation of her rounding the corner. He’s nervously gripping the couch cushion on either side of his knees when she does.

“You sneaking past Sam?” he asks quietly.

Sarah jumps, pressing a hand to her chest.

“You scared me. I wasn’t sure you’d be awake.”

Bucky shrugs, dreamily fixated on her smile. One of her neighbours turns on their porchlight and now Sarah can probably see his smile too.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says.

“Shoot. Did you need something else?”

Kinda funny how she’s pretending she was coming out here for another reason and is just making a detour for him. He knows better, but he’s got enough remnants of being a gentleman not to call her out on it.

“Nah. It’s nothing to do with you.” Bucky stares at her a few seconds and changes his mind. “You know what? Actually, it is you.”

“What is?” Sarah asks with a hushed, confused laugh.

“The reason I can’t get to sleep. Sarah…”

But she smiles and does what he did to the boys earlier—holds a finger to her lips.

With the confidence of a woman at ease in her own home and her own body, she steps forward. She wore a yellow t-shirt today, but the one she wears now is pale pink. It’s loose and worn and reveals the strong, elegant curve of her shoulder when she moves and it slips. Gazing up at her, Bucky shifts until he feels the back of the couch. His hands hover in the air as Sarah digs one knee, then the other, into the cushion on either side of him. She lowers herself onto his thighs.

Moving slow like the hour, deep like the black sky, Bucky runs his hands up her back.

Sarah’s palms land on his shoulders and, smiling, she confesses to him, “I like these.”

He’s smirking when she ducks her head to kiss him.

Now that he has her here—on his lap, in his arms—Bucky forgets every way he wanted to touch her earlier. How he was gonna woo her with tender contact applied just right. Well, thank god for Sarah. She sets the pace of the kiss and, when his hands go still at her upper back, reaches around to bring one of them back down to her waist. He can feel that there’s no bra beneath her shirt.

“Rusty,” he breathes when their mouths slide apart.

“You were on that old boat all day,” she reminds him. “You know I’ve got patience for rusty.”

Still, Bucky wants to do a little better, prove that maybe he’s what she had in mind when she decided he was worth smiling at. He cradles Sarah closer, pulling her in, dipping his fingers into the valley of her spine when she arches into him. They kiss firmer, then faster. At her quick nod of encouragement, he moves his hands to her hips. Lower.

“Sarah?” Sam slurs sleepily from down the hall. “You outta bed?”

Sarah presses a hand to Bucky’s chest and pushes off his lap, other hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter. He chuckles too.

“As the Falcon, timing is one of his greatest strengths.”

“And as his sister,” Sarah counters, “it gets on my last nerve.”

“Well, I didn’t wanna say that, but…” Bucky grins.

“Sarah?” Sam calls out again.

She sighs.

“Is he trying to wake the boys?” She takes a step away from the couch, wearing a regretful smile. “I better go.”

Bucky catches himself before he can blurt out I’ll miss you. Overeager fool.

“See you in the morning?” Sarah checks, something shy about her now, but not in a bad way. Cautiously hopeful, Bucky thinks. He’s been feeling that way himself.

He gives her one more smile for the road.

“You bet.”

#my writing #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #Bucky Barnes #bucky x sarah #Sarah Wilson

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sneverussape · 3 years ago

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What kind of person do you think lily was? There's a lot said about her in the series, but i have trouble reconciling pure, shining paragon lily with someone who would marry someone that spent years tormenting her friend, 4 on 1.

ooh boy this will be a LOT. i can't even promise it will be coherent but i'll make an attempt to be. (going under a cut to save us all the grief).

first off, i think it's fair to state that one of the biggest drawbacks of lily's character is how she was written. she is a plot device. she exists to boost other characters’ narratives: she's simultaneously the Rich Boy's trophy wife, the self-sacrificing mother of the Boy Who Lived, the best friend slash lost love of the Fallen Hero, and, at the same time, also no one at all. lily is a character with little to no background and character development that she can barely stand on her own two feet without any of the associated (usually male) characters to prop her up. it absolutely sucks but that's how it is. that's how jk wrote her.

given that and working with the scraps that we do have, my opinion of lily is...complex. i try to give her justice by trying to understand her context, the workings of her mind, and the possible pressures she was subjected to, but it can be challenging especially since lack of canon pushes you into a space where you have to put them in Either/Or situations. my opinion of her has also changed as i got older. when i was younger (i read the books waaaay back, as they were getting released in fact) i only saw her as an extra character (i was most interested in snape, if that's not obvious enough, but neither did i think snape was 'obsessed' with her as a lot of hp fans now think). i saw her and snape as good friends who had had a falling out, and that he'd probably had a crush on her at some point, and it got naturally overtaken by guilt etc when she died. then when i reread some chapters containing her, i was quick to put her in the Bad Friend camp. i don't think that now. i think that she, like snape, was a complex human being who made a lot of questionable decisions but shouldn't be entirely vilified for them.

my main thoughts of her that are kind of built on material from canon as well as what jkr has said herself:

- she was not posh. she grew up in cokeworth, in the same town as severus. i don't think she was middle class as a lot of fics portray her. i think the evanses were slightly better off than the snapes but they were all working-class, and living was a day-to-day struggle. the kids spoke in the local accent, their clothes were all worn and patched over, there were no green spaces or public infrastructure for kids to safely play in, and they were all mostly running wild about the town since all their parents had to work. food was something to be thankful for because there was never enough, and sometimes they had to share with their neighbors. that's the kind of setting i think lily and severus grew up in, although severus suffered abuse on top of it all. it's possible that lily did too because of the setting (post-world war 2, poverty, adults dealing with repressed trauma from the war, etc) and it wouldn't even be that surprising if she had been;

- she and petunia got along fairly well up until the point lily found out she was a witch and, as a result, became friends with severus. it's stated in canon that petunia had also wanted to attend hogwarts with them, going as far as writing to dumbledore to allow her admittance. her jealousy upon his rejection had festered and grown into outright hate that she projected onto harry as an adult, but i don't doubt that she continued to love lily even after her death and despite how she treated harry. i think as kids they had stuck together and were very close, but magic had torn them apart. suddenly lily had a world of her own that petunia wasn't welcome in, and that would have hurt. pottermore stated lily attended vernon and petunia's wedding or engagement party but james made a right mess of it. i think lily TRIED to maintain their relationship but external factors always got in the way. i don't doubt she had also loved her sister very much;

- i don't think she had any other friends. she may have had a lot of acquaintances but i think her only real friend, the one who saw her for who she really was, was severus, and i think, at a certain point in their lives, she saw that as a weakness and resented it;

- i think, from the interactions we saw in canon of lily with other people, that lily had a penchant to please people, especially the ones who ranked higher than her in terms of power dynamics - petunia (who was the older sister), professors (sluggy comes to mind, the head of slytherin with a lot of connections), even the marauders whose actions she defended. it's not necessarily a bad thing, but i've always seen it as her being borderline manipulative. i noted that she wasn't the same with severus (based on their conversations, especially the ones in 5th year, before SWM) because he's lower than her in a lot of aspects, being a slytherin and quite likely of a lower social standing. she could boss him around and tell him to piss off and he probably wouldn't have minded. she actually strikes me as someone who could have been in slytherin; a perfect arrangement, save for the fact that she was a muggleborn. i think lily knew her place and the cards she was dealt with more than anyone, but she was also determined not to stay there;

- this brings me to the point as to why she ever went out with james potter in the first place. i think her friendship breakup with severus was inevitable because they were in the middle of a burgeoning war and both of them were being pulled to opposite and opposing ends. as an added complexity, i think she also wanted to be better than being muggleborn lily evans of cokeworth, best friend of the evil greasy slytherin git, and her way out was to associate with housemates who were in the upper echelons of power. like, we don't even know what her life was like in gryffindor tower. ron was poor, but he was also a pureblood, so that may have saved him from ridicule. but what if you were a poor muggleborn, with a northern accent to boot? in the same way severus trained himself to be more posh, lily could have done the same and could have furiously tried to blend in. maintaining a friendship with severus would have ended in heartbreak as there were too many risks and it likely outweighed the gains. this was the wizarding world too which is much much smaller than the muggle world and relied on connections more than anything. openly siding with the marauders would have saved her skin and secured her a future (which, as we all know, was forfeit anyway but whatever);

- jumping to the jily relationship, i honestly think it was also not one that was meant to last. iirc jkr projected a lot onto lily, so i'm surmising jily reflected a lot of her own failed relationships. i think james and lily had a less-than-ideal relationship, one that involved abuse (verbal, emotional, mental, physical, take your pick, but at least one form of it), and i think she may have been unhappy in the last year of her life, living in hiding with none of her own friends (if they even existed) and seeing no one else but james' pals. her only light in that darkness was likely harry as she couldn't even see her own family. i think, during those times, she thought a lot about the home she left behind and, as a consequence, her lost friendship with severus. she probably missed him, and i'm sure she must have been very lonely.

in sum, i don't think she was the Virgin Mary figure a lot of hp fans paint her to be. imho she had her own questionable but utterly human moments, and i just tried to fill in the blanks as to why she would have acted the way she did. i don't think it was easy to be lily evans at all, and majority of the 21 years of her life was likely a struggle.

#lily evans #and the cards she was dealt #i wish we knew more about her tbh #ask #hp #also mentions #snape #of course

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ijustwant2write · 4 years ago

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The Nice One-Fred Weasley x Muggle!Dursley!Reader

(GIF credit to @avocadosalad2)

Masterlist

Prompt List

Tag List: @obsessedwithrandomthings

Requested by anonymous: 'I have this idea about Fred Weasley falling in love with Harry’s muggle cousin. a dursley. Maybe y/n and Harry were always really close and she obviously knows all about magic. She’s the only person, Harry actually loved and trusted as a child and that didn’t change when he found out he was wizard so there really close, he sees her as a sister. Maybe he wants to introduce her to ginny because Harry wants her approval. And reader ends up liking Fred, and Fred likes her back.'

Characters: Fred Weasley x Muggle!Dursley!Reader, Harry Potter x Muggle!Dursley!Reader (cousin), Weasley Family x Muggle!Dursley!Reader (platonic), Hermione Granger x Muggle!Dursley!Reader (Platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Mention of neglect/child abuse, lots of fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sitting back in a plastic chair, I looked out of the huge window of the coffee shop, sighing as I realised it had started to rain. I never minded the rain really, but it had been like this since May, with no sign of a proper English summer in sight. Harry returning to the table with two mugs of tea distracted me, and I smiled as he set them on the table, sitting opposite to me.

“It feels like ages since we did this.” I said, blowing over the top of the tea.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I’ve not called or contacted you in any way recently.” he apologised, casting his eyes down.

“Harry, you don’t have to be sorry for anything.” I reassured him.“You’ve been making your life in...well, your world. We’ve all grown up, had to get used to becoming adults and such. Though it is a shame we haven’t seen each other for over a year.”

“Year and a half actually.”

“I wasn’t surprised when you invited me here though. Of course, this is under better circumstances. I’m not having to drag you out of the house to avoid my parents.”

“No, this is much nicer.” he chuckled.“How are they by the way? I was able to see Dudley last month.”

“They’re fine, same as always. I don’t see them as much as I should, though I do call them often. Sometimes it’s hard you know, especially after all that’s happened in the last few years.” I took a sip of tea, finally able to start drinking it.

Harry seemed hesitant to speak again.“Actually, I was wanting to ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember me talking to you about a girl called Ginny?”

“Ooh, has my little cousin fallen in love?” I was teasing until I saw the genuine smile on his face.“Wait, Harry, do you really like this girl?”

“W-well...I h-have for a while, we actually told each other our feelings when, when other things turned serious. And it’s been going good between us, really good, which leads me to my question.”

I was confused as to where this was going, but waited for him to carry on.

“I was wondering if you would come meet her?”

“You want me to meet her?” I excitedly repeated.

“Yeah,” he smiled back,“there’s going to be a birthday party for me at her family home. She’s a Weasley.”

“Wait, isn’t that the last name of your friend Ron?”

“It is.”

“You’re dating your best friend’s sister?”

“I’ve already talked about it with him! Do you remember I stayed with him over that summer, and I wrote to you from there?”

“The Burrow!”

He nodded.“They’re more than happy to have you there.”

“Of course I’ll come Harry! For now, you have to tell me everything about this Ginny girl.”

The party was two weeks away, and I could not contain my excitement as it got closer and closer. Although Harry had told me much about the wizarding world, he was the only wizard I had ever met (unless I counted that giant man that had tracked us down when Harry first found out he possessed magic, though there weren’t any introductions), and I was extremely excited to meet more of them. Would they constantly be using magic? Would they just conjure up food and drink? And would they be comfortable with me there? I knew that Harry wouldn’t leave me alone unless I was one hundred percent comfortable with everyone.

It was surprising that Harry hadn’t become irritated with me on the day of his party. He was coming to pick me up, and I had greeted him with an over excited tone, setting off a party popper which made strings of confetti land on his head. I had never been able to celebrate Harry’s birthdays publicly, always sneaking into his room or under the cupboard to give him a small present and a hug to wish him happy birthday (once I was earning my own pocket money, or sweetly asking dad for a few pounds, I would buy him cupcakes as a birthday cake, stashing away sweets for him after he saw how much we were given). Dragging him into my flat, I demanded he close his eyes, dashing in and out of the kitchen with a stupid grin on my face. Counting down from three, I giggled as Harry opened his eyes, smiling when he saw me holding a cupcake with a candle in my hands.

"You didn't forget."

"Of course I didn't. Is it...is it alright?" I became worried, wondering if I had brought up bad memories.

"No, no, I actually missed this. It was one of the things I looked forward to each year."

He blew out the candle, sighing when I urged him to close his eyes and make a wish. Harry then pushed me to get a move on, his eyes widening when he saw me pick up two presents with wrapping paper, as well as a smaller one on top. I walked past him before he could say anything about them, handing him the keys to lock up.

As we turned up at the infamous Burrow, I couldn't help but stand back in awe. It was like nothing I had ever seen, and although shabby looking, very put together, it had some sort of charm to it, it was so different to other houses. Harry had already taken a few steps forward, stopping when he noticed me not move.

"(Y/N)?"

My eyes snapped back down to him."Oh, sorry."

"It's going to be fine." he said, coming to stand beside me.

I just nodded, walking next to him and standing back when he knocked on the door. A short woman opened it, squealing with excitement when she saw Harry, and as she dragged him in for a hug, she playfully scolded him for knocking, claiming that he could waltz in whenever. Staying outside, I poked my head in, still holding the presents in my arms. I watched as Harry was engulfed in numerous hugs, everyone wishing him happy birthday as well as joking and laughing with him. It shocked me. The only time I saw him this happy was when I was able to cheer him up as kids (and that was extremely hard to do when he lived in the hell hole I called home), but a sudden wave of emotion attacked me, I was so happy to see him being treated right.

"Everyone, this is my cousin, (Y/N)." Harry interrupted my thoughts once again, gesturing for me to step inside.

Sheepishly walking in, I held onto the presents a little tighter, smiling through the awkwardness. There were so many of them standing there.

"Here, let me take those from you love." a man who seemed to be the dad offered, placing the presents on a nearby table. Now I was out in the open.

"So this is the decent one?" one of the younger lads said to break the silence.

"Ronald Weasley, you mind your manners!" the woman scolded him."Don't mind him dear, it's lovely to meet you. Harry has never stopped talking about you."

"He's right though," Harry said,"this is the nice one."

"It's nice to see that Harry stayed in such a lovely place, and with lovely people."

Really (Y/N)? That's the first thing you come out with?

"Oh what a sweetheart." the woman gushed."Believe me, they look like angels, but they don't act like one."

Harry soon broke us into a general conversation, attempting to introduce me to everyone. This family was so different to mine. It felt more loving, as if they didn't hate to be around each other all the time. They included each other in every conversation, they laughed together, joked around with each other. And they also included me.

We were sat around a long table, squeezed amongst one another with food and drink laid out. I had Harry one side of me, and his old friend Hermione on my other. I believed that she and Ron had romantic connections, but I was hoping she would shed some light on Harry's love life, as Ginny was sat beside him.

"They've only recently become public. Everyone knew that they were together, it was bound to happen. But we all acted surprised anyway." Hermione and I giggled, drowned out by the sound of everyone talking.

"Oh bless him, he seemed very happy when he mentioned her. That's why he invited me actually, he was wondering what I would think about her. They don't seem to be able to keep their eyes off each other."

"Someone else seems to have their eyes on someone." she smirked.

I followed her eye line, seeing one of the twins looking in our direction before averting their gaze. I had remembered that they were each wearing the same jumper but with different colours, thankfully making it easier to tell them apart. It had been Fred looking my way, and I hated that I was blushing already; no one had looked at me like that for a long time.

"I'm sure that was nothing." I mumbled.

"If you say so." I heard Ginny say, making me whip my head round to her. She was leaning forward to look at me, and I saw Harry holding back a laugh.

"Come on, I haven't even spoken to him."

"Maybe you should. Perhaps this was meant to happen."

Molly stopped all chatter across the table, standing up to announce that it was present time. Heaps of presents were pushed down to our end of the table, Harry was shocked by how many there were, but stuck right in. After thanking all of the Weasley’s for their sweet presents, especially Ginny. With my presents left, I felt all eyes on me, nervous as to what they would think of my gifts.

One was a collection of books he read when he was younger (until my brother got angry at him and ripped out the pages), the other was two shirts I knew would look nice on him. The last present was a photo book, which I had had personalised; on the front it said ‘Harry’s Memories’, in a beautiful swirling style of writing. The toothy grin on his face fell slightly, and I began to panic again. Everyone waited for him to open the book, a slight tension in the air. Harry slowly opened the book, reading the message I had left for him in his head. It entailed fond memories we had, and how proud I was of him for setting out to school by himself, and how many times he was brave enough to put himself on the line for his friends and family. Turning the next page, a breathless laugh left his lips when he saw the photos I chose. Unfortunately there weren’t many of us together, or of him in general, but I had raided our old cameras back home to find any photos I had taken of him without my parent’s knowledge. After flipping over another page that turned out to be blank, he looked up at me, as did everyone else.

“It’s blank so that you can fill it. I knew you wouldn’t want memories of home, just...just me I suppose. But I’m sure you’ve got better memories to put in there now.” I shyly explained.

“This is amazing, thank you (Y/N).” Harry said, hugging me tightly.

“The pictures aren’t moving?” Ginny questioned.

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion.“Your pictures move?”

Once dinner was done with, along with a round of singing as the birthday cake came out, we all broke off into smaller groups. This would have given me an opportunity to speak to Ginny, I had a strong feeling that she was absolutely perfect for him, they seemed well matched, but I still wanted a chat at least. However, Harry had stolen her away, and it wasn’t the right time to intervene. As I thought about who to talk to, Fred walked up to me, leaning against the kitchen counter top as I was.

“Thought you looked a little lonely over here.” he said, but it wasn’t in a cocky way, he was being genuinely kind.

“Thanks.” I laughed.

He smiled.“I-I didn’t mean it like that.”

I looked up at him.“No I know what you meant. I was actually thanking you.”

“Ah.”

There was a moment of silence as neither of us were sure what to say next. Suddenly, something popped into my mind,“You know, I’ve seen you before.”

“What?”

“When you came to rescue Harry, in your flying car. I was in my room, but my room was next to Harry’s, so I could just about see you and your brothers.”

“That was so many years ago.”

I nodded.“I just remember how shocked I was when I saw the car, but also how relieved I felt when I saw Harry get in there. I was in trouble for not going to my parents straight away though.”

“You don’t sound like a typical Dursley at all.”

“I suppose I’m not. I was never the favourite, for some reason Dudley was. But I was so focused on keeping Harry somewhat happy that it didn’t matter. I just got good results at school, made friends and kept the biggest secret in the world.”

“It is slightly strange having a Muggle about.”

“How do you think I feel? The dishes are doing themselves over there!” I gestured to the sink where there was a floating plate and sponge. He laughed at that."That would be so useful to have at home, especially after a long day."

"So," he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning towards me,"what do you think about our families combining?"

I took a sip of my drink, following his eye line to Harry and Ginny."I can't express how happy I am for him."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And I'm not just saying nice things because Ginny is your sister. Harry had a long talk about what happened in the past, he's mentioned her, well, all of you, a lot. You've all been able to give him much more than I have."

"That's not true. Harry has expressed multiple times how he didn't know what he would have done if you weren't there for him."

"Seems like everything has worked out perfectly in the end. It even feels right me being here."

"I can agree on that."

"Even if I'm a Muggle?"

"Can't say that's the first thing I noticed about you."

My eyes widened slightly, slowly looking down into the content of my cup."Fred, if I didn't know any better, I would say you were flirting with me."

"Thank god you noticed, thought I might have to start using pick up lines."

"You still can if you want to."

"Nah, think I'll save that for a first date."

"If you're asking, then the answer would be a yes."

"Well, glad that's been sorted."

I giggled quietly, trying not to show how much I was enjoying this."Do I get to find out where you're taking me?"

"If I'm honest, I wasn't sure if I would get this far."

We laughed together, catching the attention of his parents who were with Hermione and Ron. We quietened down, finding it hard to hold back on giggling. Before we could even continue speaking, Harry was approaching me, and I knew he wanted to find out what had happened since he left me alone.

"So, uh, what are you two talking about?" Harry failed to play dumb.

I rolled my eyes, placing a hand on his shoulder."OK, whilst you interrogate my date, I'll go talk to your girlfriend. Sound like a deal?"

"D-date?"

"Don't act like you weren't listening. Relax Harry, this is your party after all."

I heard him sigh to Fred as I walked away."You two are going to be trouble, I just know it."

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #harry potter x reader #harry potter one shot #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #harry potter

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padfootastic · 2 years ago

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Hey I wanted some insight on how to write James with more depth. I saw on a one of your post you mentioned not liking that he matured for a girl, and I can agree. And I saw you mentioning his elderly parents and how they died around the war. How do you think being raised by older parents affected his character overall?

oh hey anon 💜💜 i’m not sure i’m the best person for advice on how to write a character w depth (since it’s something i routine eschew in favor of self indulgence) but i can certainly try!

so, i’m not sure if effie and flea dying from illness (dragonpox?) is canon or not but i certainly treat it so. i think they passed away around his 7th year, maybe midway through, and that just strengthened his resolve to join the order. plus, it gives me a more plausible reason for why him and lily married so young.

regarding how growing up with elderly parents might’ve affected him, here’s a few possible options:

- kind, kind, kind. he’s sincere and polite and has impeccable manners (does he sometimes give up on them if the situation calls for? sure) because it’s been instilled in him from birth. i think family portraits going back generations also played a huge role here.

- he’s great with small talk and endearing himself to old people. he’s used to his parents’ friends and often, he prefers being with them over his peers because he can understand them and their motivations better. i think while he was an extrovert and definitely loved hanging out with people, his social skills were a bit rusty bc he’s not grown up around a lot of kids so he doesn’t rly know how to relate to them. (enter: my hc that james uses old people swears like good heavens and goodness gracious) he had to stumble around to get better with his batchmates in hogwarts and even then, he sometimes slips up and goes into geriatric mode and gets teased a lot for it.

- i also think he’d be big on like, tradition and superstition? even when he stops actually believing in them, he still does it bc of habit or ‘what’s the harm?’ or he wants to keep some part of his parents alive. he’s probably thought up all kinds of things he wants to do with harry and teach him and habits to instil in him which just makes it that much more tragic that he didn’t get to

- his nurturing nature came from an acute awareness of his parents’ mortality and taking care of them from a young age. i see flea and effie as realists, treating james as an equal for all that they coddle him. so they’ve never hid this part from him and he’s always had a low grade fear? anxiety? about when time will run out so he tries to over compensate for it by doing the most. (sometimes i hc a james with control issues but that’s a tangent)

- on the flip side, his arrogance definitely came from being a miracle baby. he had all the silver/gold/platinum spoons in his mouth and so much privilege he doesn’t know what to do with it. while his heart is in the right place, effie & flea were cut from the same cloth so his understanding of these nuances came much, much later as he started interacting with people in hogwarts who had very different lives. i think this made him a bit insensitive at times, but definitely the aforementioned heart makes sure he makes amends, even if they’re fumbling and based on trial-and-error.

- he was a lonely kid!! as much as he loved his parents and their friends and his life, he still grew up mainly alone in a large manor with nothing but portraits to talk to and that had to have had an effect on him. combine that w his never ending energy and always being switched on and is it any wonder he keeps doing The Absolute Most when he finally gets to hogwarts? how hard he latches on to sirius?

- oh also, i think he definitely has some form of rejection sensitivity. i’ve mentioned this before but i think, despite his confidence, it can be easy to make him self conscious by bringing up say, how loudly he talks or how he ‘never shuts up’ or ‘oh my god ur so annoying potter do u ever just, chill out’ (one reason why a lot of jily fics don’t agree w me tbh), partly because he’s never really been criticised before so he doesn’t know how to constructively deal with it and partly bc he’s always thinking in extremes and doesn’t want to be a bother so he decides completely shutting himself off is the only acceptable solution. (another hc: sirius knows this, understands it as an actual problem, and is therefore the only one who can bring up his faults/tell him to cut it out without sending him into a guilt/hurt spiral)

i’m...gonna stop here. i don’t know if all of these make sense but it’s how i see james (i think) so i rly hope it helps u! if u end up writing a fic/post (even if it doesn’t have any of this lol), tag me so i can read it <333 happy writing, anon!

#james potter #obligatory disclaimer: these are all headcanons bc we don’t have enough info so don’t@ me #i know there’s another post about him being raised by elderly parents but i haven’t read it so i can’t link it sorry!#some of these are pulled from irl #i’ve been around a lot of old people (often in a partial caretaker capacity) since i was young and that’s influenced this #also how single children w indulgent parents act #the being good with old people one especially- my fav people to hang out w at family events are the grandparents #they consistently surprise me + have the best stories and i spend hours around them #gonna be honest. ages in hp have always confused me. i thought 100+ was the norm but people regularly die earlier #which yeah ik wartime but still. bc if it was that old then james wouldn’t be worried but idk #it’s inconsequential but something i wonder about occasionally #once again i have been unable to control myself #sigh #can u tell a lot of james is just me? i’m a whole fraud #pen’s asks

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hillnerd · 3 years ago

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For the ship and word game: Harry/Ginny, snitch ♥️

Thanks for the prompt! Hinny as parents - James is twelve. :)

SNITCH

It was December and so it was a cold grey day. There was no other kind of day in Scotland in December.

Despite the rather miserable weather, Ginny was jubilant as she trudged through the snow towards the familiar Quidditch pitch, red sweater on under her thick winter coat.

James had sent a letter late in the night. It was barely legible, and mentioned something about Quidditch. The follow-up letter from Teddy helped clarify things. James was in the reserves for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and was getting to fly his first game thanks to a chaser getting a bad case of Fwooper Flu.

No one had ever come to her games at Hogwarts as her mother had never been comfortable Apparating and couldn’t spare the Floo powder, while their father was always busy at work. It wasn’t something she particularly resented, but looking back she would have liked them to see her and cheer her on for her games.

Harry was off on a mission, but Ginny could spare the time, and was happy to get a chance to see James playing his first ever game. It was strange being back at Hogwarts after so many years. She’d been back a few times for memorials back in the early 2000’s, but it had been over a decade since then, and much had changed. In some ways it was the same- the Quidditch pitch didn’t look all that different, but the pathways to it had changed, the seating, and she was having trouble finding the locker room.

“Ginny!” she heard a voice call, and saw Neville waving in the crowd. She enthusiastically waved and jogged over.

“Hey Nev!” She smiled and gave a hug.

“Here to see James?”

“Yes! Though, I’ve not clue where the locker rooms are! Where’d they move them to?”

“Ah! Those are on the South side now. The old ones had a lot of old spell damage and got torn out, oh, five year ago now?” he explained, leading the way to the locker room.

She could hear the sounds of teens excitedly gearing up for the game.

The team were mostly students Teddy and Victoire’s ages, if she had to guess by the look of them. James, by comparison, looked tiny and pale. He was bouncing both his legs as he sat at his bench, hands running through his hair. He was already with uniform and pads on, while the rest of the team were more languorous in getting their pads in place.

She’d been exactly the same her first match as a Harpie.

“Knock knock,” she said, fully entering the room. The teens quieted down seeing there was an adult in the room, while James shot to his feet.

“Mum!” James cried out with a smile, before carefully schooling it to a much cooler nonchalant look. “Erm, what are you doing here?”

“Came to see your first big game, of course,” she laughed.

“Oh wait- that’s Ginny Potter!” cried out an eastern asian girl. One of the tall teenage whipped around, a furious blush on his face, before shutting his locker that had an old poster of hers. She remembered the row she’d had with her mum over the poster and how she wasn’t ‘fully in her uniform’ for the shot. Another kid, Oliver Wood’s daughter she’d met a few times over the years, gave a quick wave.

“Yup,” she said with a winning smile. “Best of luck, to all of you. Go Gryffindor!”

She caught James’s eye and was surprised to find him looking rather cross. She gave a quick gesture with her head to the door and he joined her just outside.

“Excited for your match?”

“Well I was…”

Oh dear. She could feel the tween angst rolling off of him.

“Everything alright?”

“Why’d you have to come into the locker room? No one else’s parents did that.”

“You sure about that? Because I know for a fact Oliver Wood was there for the first few years of your Keeper’s games.”

James bit his lip, adjusting his rectangular glasses.

“You sure?”

“Oh yes. And he wore full regalia and painted his face, so you’re old mum isn’t too much of an embarrassment by comparison.” She had no idea if Oliver Wood had done this, but it was the first embarrassing thing she could imagine to make her look a bit less bad by comparison.

“It’s not that you’re embarrassing…” he said, digging the toe of his shoe into the ground.

“Oh?”

“I just… I want them to be thinking about how I’m good on my own. Not because of you.”

Oh. She’d not considered that as being a thing, but completely understood the sentiment.

“Hey, I can leave if—”

“No… No, I want you here. I’m glad you came,” he said, before furtively looking around him then leaning in to hug her.

“You’re going to crush it, James,” she whispered in his ear. “Remember to really tuck in your heels and arms when you’re doing any hard sprints. And look farther down the field so you can get a big picture of the whole game and really slow things down. Oh, and ‘give to get’ on your tight turns so that—”

“I know, I know!” James said, putting a hand through his messy auburn hair. It wasn’t as messy as Harry’s, but she had a feeling he’d been running hands through it more than usual.

“Best of luck, darling,” she said with a kiss to his forehead.

He gave her one of his most confident smiles, flashing his straight teeth, and for a moment she could just picture what he’d be like when he was quite grown up, a thought that terrified her.

“See you after the game,” she said, giving his hair a ruffle as she went to find her seat.

She looked for Neville amongst the stands, but spotted a familiar head of dark hair beside him.

“Harry?” she called out. He turned and grinned at her, wearing a Gryffindor scarf and facepaint on his cheeks.

“Go Gryffindor,” he said with a grin.

She smiled back, loving that he’d somehow made it to the game. She also loved how mortified James would be later. She was the cool parent; today at least.

“Nice to see you in your old colors,” she said, taking a seat beside her husband. “Thought you had a mission today?”

“The great thing about being Head Auror is you can push those off on other people,” he said, taking hold of her hand. “Plus it’s his first game. I couldn’t miss it. It’s nice to have someone in the stands rooting for you when you’re taking on something daunting.”

She gave his hand a squeeze.

“Yell super loud when James flies out. He’ll love it!”

James might act embarrassed, but she was sure he actually would love having his father there cheering him on.

When James flew out Harry gave a giant whoop, which made James show off with some loop-de-loops instead of going red faced like Albus would have.

The match was a good one, and James was keeping up very well with players years older than he. She glowed as he followed her advice to ‘give to get’- slowing down on turns so he could gain more smooth speed on the long runs.

He was a natural chaser and she couldn’t be more proud.

James was in a perfect tail slide transition with his Quaffle when a bludger was his his direction. Too intent on looking down the field, and with all the cheers, he missed her and Harry’s scream as their son took a Bludger to the back of his head and went tumbling from his broom.

There were a number of spells on the field to prevent a student from making impact with the ground (something they could have used back in her and Harry’s day). It did nothing to prevent the terror scraping at her insides seeing her little boy put on a stretcher with blood running down his temple, glasses smashed and laid on his chest. Harry’s jaw was set and he made an incongruous sight looking so grim while adorned in the bright face paint.

James was rushed to the hospital wing, and she and Harry stayed by his side the whole way there. All his cousins and Teddy came to visit, but they dispersed once they knew James would be alright, with the exception of Teddy who opted to stay.

James was healed and bandaged up by Hannah Longbottom. Despite knowing James was fully healed, they opted to stay until he woke up. Teddy nodded off in a nearby chair, his hair subconsciously turning the same color as James’s as he slept.

Ginny stood looking at James’s sleeping face until her vision blurred. She could picture him when he was just a tiny baby, his look of mischief on his face as he padded along the halls on pudgy legs, toddling after Teddy and Harry, wanting to be so grown up.

Harry took her hand and squeezed it.

“He’s alright, love.”

“I know,” she replied, swiping at her eyes. “I can’t stop thinking of him as a baby, for some reason.”

Harry gave a dry laugh. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. Is it just me, or is being a parent a bit like having a time turner? In the blink of an eye you can see your twelve year old as a baby or when he first walked.”

“Especially when they’re asleep,” she said, stroking James’s lightly freckled cheek. “I’m glad you came today.”

“Me too. He flies just like you, you know,” said Harry before standing beside her.

“I was thinking some of those loop-de-loops looked like you at that age.”

“Naw, all his brilliance is from his Mum,” he said, leaning in to gently kiss her.

“Eurgh…” James gave a grunt, squinting at them. “What happened?”

“You got a bludger to the back of your head. Same injury your dad had in his sixth year.”

“Wicked…” said James, before his eye went wide. “Who won the game?”

“Gryffindor, even though they didn’t catch the Snitch. You Chasers were that good!” said Harry, sitting beside James.

Ginny could picture James’s first broom ride, with Harry excitedly following beside him so he wouldn’t slip off the tiny broom.

#hinny #james sirius potter #fan fiction #hp fanfiction #ginny potter #my writing #snitch #harry potter #hp next gen

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cheryblossomdreams · 4 years ago

Text

A Discussion About Dramione

This is a very difficult ship in the HP fandom, alongside others like Drarry etc.

However, I think there is something to be said for it regardless, since I’ve seen a lot of anti-Dramione content with some valid points and a lot of non valid ones too, so I suppose I’d like a try my hand at rebuking some of them.

1. Dramione shippers romanticize abuse and bullying.

At first glance, it certainly looks that way. Draco Malfoy was a racist, petty, spoiled bully that jumped on every opportunity to bully Hermione Granger and her friends. He is not a good character. In the Dramione fandom, no one claims he is a good character either. Instead, the Dramione fandom recognized the canon potential for change in Draco and uses that to shape their fanfics. The largest majority of the fandom (There do exist those really young fans that don’t quite yet understand everything that will blindly defend him or create extremely problematic fanart, but they are truly a minority) acknowledges entirely all the wrongs Draco has committed, and they are many. Actually, in most Dramione fics, the writers go to great lengths to process the part of DHr’s past that was filled with hatred and insults. You can find examples of this in the fic Measure of a Man by @inadaze22. Also to the point, most of Dramione fanfiction is written and set in a time many years after the War, after their school years, where they’ve both grown, matured and become adults, changed by time and what they went through, so it is a null point to say Dramione shippers romanticize bullying when their content is almost always set in a time where Draco is no longer a bully and Hermione is no longer a victim.

What the Dramione shippers like to emphasize is the fact that even though Draco used to be a horrible person, he had changed and grown past that, owned up to his mistakes and is now a different man. That’s what the stories they write are about. He had the potential to change already established in canon that he used later through his life to become someone better Hermione could eventually forgive and love.

You’ll be hard pressed to find a Dramione shipper that would say that while they were still in school they should’ve gotten together. Absolutely not. The content most of the Dramione fandom creates is always set post-canon, at a time where Draco’s changed and grown up from who he used to be, and Hermione recognizes his change and forgives him.

She certainly doesn’t have to forgive him, she doesn’t owe him anything, but part of Hermione’s bravery and overall character is that she would have been able to forgive him when she realized he’d changed. Plus, he saved her best friend’s life at a critical point in the war and, even though he did nothing to help her because he literally couldn’t have, which is something I’m pretty sure Hermione would have been grateful for, even a little bit.

The Malfoy family saved Harry’s life TWICE in HP, in both extremely critical moments in the war (Draco lying at the manor, Narcissa lying to Voldemort), which is something Hermione wouldn’t have been able to just ignore and pretend like it never happened, because that’s not who she is.

There probably is a very small percent of the Dramione fandom who create problematic content, but every fandom and every ship has toxic shippers, besides they are simply not the majority.

2. Dramione shippers use Hermione to redeem Draco.

The redemption arc Draco got in HP is extremely flimsy at best, especially considering the amount of damage he’d done prior. He saved Harry’s life, yes, but he did nothing to protect either Ron or Hermione, so personally I wouldn’t harp on about that being much of a redemption arc at all. However, I don’t think any Dramione shippers use Hermione to redeem him. In the Dramione content the things he did wrong and the hurt he inflicted is something Hermione recognizes and then, through the story, eventually chooses to leave behind. Besides, she doesn’t have to redeem him, since we know from canon he’d grown out of his beliefs eventually, privately at least if not publicly (more on this later).

3. Draco had a choice in how to act, if he really didn’t believe in blood supremacy.

No, he didn’t. Let me break it down why.

When he was 11 years old and first coming to Hogwarts, he was too young to understand the beliefs his parents ingrained into him were wrong and harmful, he simply didn’t have the mental capacity to comprehend that. He was a child that hung to every word their mom and dad said and he acted accordingly.

As he grew up though, started going through puberty and maturing, he would’ve realized that blood supremacy is wrong. Let’s say this realization came when he was 14. Lucius and Narcissa weren’t with him at Hogwarts, so if he changed his behavior to reflect his new realizations, they wouldn’t have known, right?

WRONG.

Do you really mean to tell me that if Draco Malfoy, only son and sole heir to the Malfoy family, an extremely wealthy, influential family in the Wizarding World and its politics, part of the sacred 28, well respected and with a high status in society, suddenly started being kinder and friendlier to Muggleborns and Halfbloods, people wouldn’t talk? People wouldn’t wonder, get suspicious? That such news wouldn’t reach his father, who’s got eyes and ears everywhere (evident by the fact he was able to bribe someone in Hogwarts to buy his son a position on the Quidditch team). And how do you think Lucius Malfoy, a devout Death Eater, would have reacted to receiving such news? What do you think would have happened to Draco when he came home that summer?

Draco was never abused and I doubt Lucius would start then, but I am positive he would’ve been disowned, for betraying the values his family had upheld for centuries. Lucius is a staunch blood purist and he absolutely would cut all contact with his son (disown him) when news reached him Draco was making nice with Muggleborns and Halfbloods.

And Draco knew this, he knew how strict his father was, he knew how deeply he believed in blood supremacy and he knew the consequences for stepping out of line and being anything less than the perfect son.

What would a 14-year old kid do being disowned? Homeless essentially?

So, even if he had realized the wrongs of his beliefs and renounced them, he couldn’t have done that publicly, and certainly not with Hermione Granger or Harry Potter much less, seeing as Harry Potter is the nemesis of the man his father believes in.

By the time he reaches 15 and 16, Voldemort is already at full power again and living in Draco’s house. Now things get even worse. After Lucius fails to get the Prophecy in the Department of Mysteries, Voldemort decides he has to punish him for his failure by having Draco take the Dark Mark. By this point, Draco had abandoned ideas of blood supremacy, but at this point, what the fuck is he going to do? Refuse The Dark Lord? The Darkest Wizard in all of Wizarding History? The guy who is living in his house AND holds the lives of him AND his entire family hostage? Who could and would murder Draco’s mother and father and Draco himself if Draco disobeyed? The man who murdered a person right on Draco’s kitchen table and had Nagini swallow them whole?

Even if all of that wasn’t true, and it is, how’s a 16 year old kid going to fight off a house full of seasoned Death Eaters, proficient at the Dark Arts who will use Unforgivables on him, plus Voldemort himself, plus a giant terrifying snake?

At that point, Draco is left with literally zero choice but to take the Mark and obey his mission to murder Dumbledore.

He hatches several plots to kill Dumbledore, all of which fail. When they stand at the Astronomy tower, even Dumbledore himself calls all of his plots halfhearted and weak. Dumbledore offers him help, but Draco is very clear in his regret of the things he’d done and the fact there’s no going back now.

‘I have to do this, I have to kill you, or he’s gonna kill me.’

AND

‘What do you know about me? I’ve done things that would shock you.’

(I’m paraphrasing here, these aren’t the exact quotes).

At which point Snape shows up and kills Dumbledore in Draco’s place because of the Vow he made to Narcissa.

Any way you look at it, he really didn’t have any choice, even if he did at some point during school renounce his beliefs and grow past them.

4. He tried to kill Ron.

I’ve seen antis blame Draco for this one, which is a bit ridiculous. He did not. He had madam Rosmerta poison a bottle of wine, which he sent to Horace Slughorn, hoping Slughorn would pass it onto Dumbledore. Filch hadn’t noticed any traces of poison in it, because he is a Squib, he also didn’t doubt a shipment from Rosmerta, and so he just gave it to Slughorn. Slughorn kept it around and then later he was the one to offer Ron a glass of that wine. In Draco’s plan, Ron wasn’t ever even mentioned nor included in any way. It had been an unlucky coincidence for Ron, and Draco couldn’t have possibly known that Slughorn would hold onto the wine, that Ron would ever be around Slughorn OR that Slughorn would offer Ron that same wine. Sufficed to say, Draco never attempted to murder Ronald Weasley.

5. He did nothing while Bellatrix tortured Hermione.

We’ve been over this, what could he have done? He had saved Harry’s life earlier, but that one lie couldn’t of spared Ron or Hermione, their faces were too recognizable, even if Harry’s wasn’t.

A room full of Death Eaters, some of the cruelest, most dangerous ones mind you (Bellatrix Lestrange) and he’d be 17, if I remember correctly, still not even an adult, plus at this point in the war even more powerless (considering the fact the Malfoys had fallen out of favor with Voldemort, evident by the fact Lucius tells Draco that if they deliver Harry Potter to Voldemort, all would be forgiven).

What did you expect him to do? Leap into battle and try to fend off dozens of Death Eaters, effectively betraying the Dark Lord in the process and single-handedly getting his entire family killed, if not even himself?

Would you have done that? No, of course not.

6. Draco Malfoy is not redeemable.

Now Draco’s “redemption arc”, if it can be called that, is a powerful moment but it’s flimsy. JK didn’t really ever intend for him to be redeemed or liked either, but let’s take a look at it anyways.

It is canon that Draco stopped believing in blood supremacy at some point during their school years, though we can’t know exactly when.

How can I say this, when his behavior never indicated that?

Well, I’ve already been over why he couldn’t have suddenly changed his behavior, now let’s go through how I can claim it is canon.

The scene where Draco lies to everyone about Harry’s identity.

That moment could only exist IF Draco didn’t believe in blood supremacy anymore.

Think about it, if Draco was devout to Voldemort and his beliefs like his father, he would have had no problem or conscience to tell everyone ‘Yes, this is Harry Potter, hand him over.’ It would have been favorable to him if Harry died.

And let’s be clear, if Draco had said the truth in that moment, Harry would have died. He was captured, wandless (his is broken, when they escape the Manor he steals Draco’s), Ron and Hermione captured as well, he was entirely helpless and surrounded by powerful Dark Arts wizards and witches who would lead him directly to Voldemort the moment they got confirmation it was indeed him and that would have been it. Voldemort would have killed him. Voldemort would have won.

But that isn’t what happened.

Draco looked at Harry, recognized it was him (evident by a later scene where Harry straight up says that. “Why didn’t you tell her? Bellatrix? You knew it was me, you didn’t say anything.”) and at first, still unsure what to do, asked why Harry’s face was like that, and he’s told Harry just came in like that.

Draco says “I’m not sure.”

At that point Lucius grips him and tells him that if they gave up Harry Potter to Voldemort all would be forgiven, Bellatrix brings him closer to get a second look.

Draco knows all the consequences of what he’s doing at this point, he knows what he’s risking, the literal lives of everyone he loves, and what does he do?

He still lies.

‘I can’t be sure.’

It’s a powerful moment for his character, BUT it’s not enough for redemption. The amount of pain and hatred he’d spewed for 6 years (I say 6 years because The Golden Trio wasn’t attending Hogwarts for year 7) is not redeemed by this one instance. His actions, letting Death Eaters into Hogwarts, likely torturing people on command of the Carrows in 7th year, are not redeemed by this moment, even if he did save Harry’s life.

However, though this instance doesn’t constitute redemption, it is telling of the fact Draco has changed, and changed significantly from the hateful, angry, spoiled, racist brat he used to be, which gives him potential to grow up into a different, better man.

Whether JK intended it or not, the way that was written makes Draco Malfoy more than redeemable, if not for the duration of the books, then later through his life.

Being a horrible person at one point in your life does not make you forever evil, does not mean you can not ever change. To prove this, I’d like to humbly request you to watch this video:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SSH5EY-W5oM

Voldemort’s regime is very similar to Hitler’s Nazi movement, so this video is very fitting to my point and HP in general.

Here’s another three:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ORp3q1Oaezw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fw0vS0qvYo0&list=TLPQMTcxMjIwMjBZfqJdkbbQJw&index=2

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y4gly9n9RBo&list=TLPQMTcxMjIwMjBZfqJdkbbQJw&index=3

If you don’t have time to watch, let me sum it up for you.

The first video chronicles the story of a man who’d been part of the Neo-Nazi movement, managed to leave it behind and become an activist and overall an amazing guy now.

The other three links chronicle the story of Daryl Davis, a black man who’d attended KKK rallies and even met with the Imperial Wizard of the KKK Roger Kelly, somehow despite all odds became friends with him and eventually managed to get through to Roger Kelly to the point where this man (The leader of the KKK on a national scale) stepped down from his position and left the Ku Klux Klan.

That’s real life, something like that happened, truly happened, but Draco Malfoy is irredeemable?

PLUS, Draco is hardly the first case like this.

Take James Potter as an example. James was also a rich, racist, privileged white boy, and a bully. He’d bullied Snape severely, even set up a “prank” with his friends that would lead to Snape getting attacked by a WEREWOLF, putting him in mortal peril, with great potential of killing him, that required then a rescue operation.

James attempted murder, or if you don’t want to go that far, he set up a situation that quite possibly could have gotten someone killed, and he got to mature and grow past his behaviors and redeem himself, fall in love with Lily and have a wonderful son.

Why couldn’t Draco change when James had?

In conclusion, I think there’s a big diifference between what the Dramione fandom actually is and what antis think it is.

The heart of the Dramione fandom is about growing and changing and maturing and forgiving and falling in love despite the differences of the past.

It’s not about romanticizing bullying or toxic relationships, life is not black and white people, people can change and grow from their past actions and people can also forgive and move on.

There’s plenty of examples in the books of Harry and Ron mistreating Hermione and they all move past those instances (obviously that can’t be compared to what Draco did, I’m just making a point here).

I do acknowledge that the Dramione shippers have some bad apples among them, some problematic people that take it all too far, but honestly, every fandom and every ship has bad, toxic people so you can’t really use that against them.

All in all, things aren’t the way antis always present them, there’s a lot more gray there, and I hope this entirely too long post helped some of y’all see that.

#dramione #dramione discourse #pro dramione #a defence of dramione #anti dramione discussions

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kinsey3furry300 · 3 years ago

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A very confused Star Wars Fan desperately tries to justify their belief that “Caravan of Courage” shows the way forward for the franchise. No, really.

Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve loved Star Wars. And I mean, all of it. The books, the games, the Lego, the spin-offs: I even enjoy the Holiday Special in a The Room so-bad-you-just-need-to-see-it sort of way. But particularly the films. But here is when we run into the big problem: I’m just the wrong age. The original trilogy launched before I was born, the prequel trilogy hit cinemas when I was already a teen and while I went and saw them and enjoyed them, I was at that age where I was self-conscious about seeing a “kids” film, and hyper-aware of how silly and cringy those films were in parts. So my indoctrination, my inoculation with the Star Wars bug didn’t happen in the cinema, and it didn’t happen with any of the main franchise works. It happened on home video, on a skiing trip in the French Alps in the early 90’s. I’d have been about 6, and this was the first time I’d ever been abroad other than to see relatives in Ireland. And I loved it: to this day I love skiing, but more than that, I have very, very fond childhood memories of this trip. This was shortly before I lost my biological mother to cancer, she’d have received her diagnosis just after we got back from the trip. This was when my younger sister stopped being an annoying screaming thing and became and became an actual person I could talk and play and share ideas with, this was before the combination my mothers long illness and my father having just launched his own IT start up meant I didn’t see him or her any more, despite the fact they were in the same house as me. This was this wonderful, nostalgic child-hood bubble when my family was intact, and nothing could ever go wrong. I skied all day with mum and dad, and would come back to the chalet in the evening. It was an English speaking chalet, I met my first real-life American there, and having grown up in the 90’s in the UK nothing was cooler than making friends with an actual American my own age. He had a hulk Hogan action figure with springs in the legs so if you put him on a hard surface and punched his head down, when you let go he’d jump really high in the air. We used to play with it together in the bath, back in that weird 90’s time-bubble when it was possible to convince two sets of parents that this kid you’d just met was you best friend in the world and of course shared bath time was, somehow, normal and appropriate. And fresh from bath time, tired from the day, the parents would give us some hot coco, dump us kids in front of the tv and grab the first shitty low-budget VHS they could find to keep us distracted while they went to the bar. In this particular time, in this particular place, that shitty low budget cartoon was the complete set of the 1985 Lucasfilm/ABC Ewoks cartoon, plus the two spin off movies, and to this day that cheap, kitschy, kind of bad series has a special warm and cosy place in my heart. I remember being enthralled by the world, in love with the characters, applied by the bad guys and the injustice they caused (to this day I’m still irate about that time Wicket lost his set of beads documenting his progress towards becoming a full warrior and the older Ewoks basically said, tough, you need to re-earn all those merit badges from scratch. This struck me as exactly the sort of bullshit an adult would pull, and pissed me off) and on tenterhooks about what would happen to the characters.

It was also, by a coincidence, the first ever Star Wars media I was exposed to, and the above combination of events probably explains a lot about me.

So I was surprised, the other day, when scrolling Disney+, to find they’d added Caravan of Courage AND Battle for Endor to the roster in my region. Surely Disney wouldn’t want their slick, cool brand associated with this old trash? Surely there could be no place for this in the post-Mandalorian Star Wars cannon? Surely this is a horrible mistake some intern made, right?

Unless…. What if I’ve miss-remembered? What if it’s not just rose-tinted nostalgia goggles, and it’s, in fact, secretly really, really good?

I rushed to my comfy chair, got a blanket, dimmed the lights, made some coco (with rum in it, because why the hell not?) and sat down to re-examine this lost gem.

And wow: it’s every bit as shit as you’d expect.

It has aged exactly as poorly as you’d expect a cheap, mid 80’s direct to video spin-off to age. Caravan of Courage? More like Caravan of Garbage, am I right?

And yet… I still enjoyed every moment.

And it was sitting there, in my pyjamas, watching a cheaply made direct to video cash-grab from just before I was born, seeing it again for the first time in nearly 30 years, and I realised something.

It doesn’t really matter if this film is bad, so long as I enjoy it. And if it doesn’t really mater if this is bad, then I, like many Star Wars fans, wasted a huge amount of time and emotional effort on being butthurt about stuff I didn’t like about the Rise of Skywalker and it’s ilk. Because somewhere, right now, a tired and frustrated parent is putting Disney+ on to keep their kids quiet for two hours. And they won’t think too hard about what they put on, so long as it keeps little Timmy busy for a bit. Somewhere, right now, a kid is watching Rise of Skywalker, and it’s the first Star Wars media they’ve ever seen.

And that’s okay. Because we don’t know what that kids home life is like. We don’t know if it’s good or bad. Maybe it’s great, maybe it’s about to take a dramatic plunge like mine did, and this moment here will be the cosy, warm memory they look back on in 30 years time, and that’s beautiful. They’re getting introduced to a fun, wonderful fantasy world that could be with them all their lives, through good times and bad, and as fans we should be happy about that.

Star Wars will never, die: it’s too darn profitable, Disney will never let it. And while I hope they learn from their mistakes and make sure every future Star Wars is a timeless gem of story-telling, statistically, if you keep making enough films, some of them will be bad. And while I’d like them all to be great, it’s still okay if they’re bad.

Because nothing can take away my memories of that week in that chalet. Nothing can take-away my memories of when they put the original trilogy on in cinemas for the special edition and I had my jaw hit the floor with how good it was on the big screen, not knowing or caring who shot first. Nothing can take away you memories of the Original Trilogy, the Prequels, or the Clone Wars. Nothing can tarnish the bits of the sequil trilogy that you like, and there are good bits in there.

But wait, what about continuity? What about the sacred, perfect written time-line that used to exist?

Well, what about it? Have you seen any other big, epic fantasy universe before? They’re all a mess. A work of fiction, particularly fantasy, can be extensive, or tightly written, but not both. Harry Potter is only seven books, and the last two feel, tonally, like they’re from an entirely different series. I love them, but the grim-dark kicked in so fast you’ll get whiplash. The Hobbit is a perfect written self-contained novel, and LOTR is *The* big boy high-fantasy trilogy: fast forward 50 years, and Christopher Tolkien is desperately squeezing every last drop of money out of his father’s corpse by finishing and publishing every unfinished note JRR ever wrote right down to his shopping lists. Even Dune goes of the rails with sequels. I can only think of four fantasy works that are both extensive and consistently tightly written, Song of Ice and Fire, Wheel of Time, Malazan: Book of the Fallen and Brandon Sanderson’s Cosmere universe. And even then, the prequels and spin-offs mess with the timelines: the Dunk and Egg novella’s change some character’s canonical ages and timelines, Wheel of Time was going slowly off the rails even before the Jordan died, Forge of Darkness made what was a good metaphor for the creation of it’s world into a literal war deep in the past, and Sanderson’s first Novel Elantris got a re-write to bring it more in line with the rest of the shared universe. The MCU, oft held up as the modern example of tightly planned, well thought out ongoing storytelling, is a lie: it was never as pre-planned out as Disney wants us to think; the first Iron Man, apparently, barely had a script, with Downey ad-lib-ing most of his scenes. None of the MCU films are direct sequels to each-other other than Infinity war and Endgame. There are three Iron Man films, and Three Thor films, and none continue an ongoing story line across multiple films, and the Cap films barely continue an arc, but only where Cap’s relationship with Natasha and Bucky is involved. Much like these, Star War’s cannon is a complete, nightmarish, confusing, tangled, illogical mess. And it has been since 1984, as Caravan of Courage proves. It was never consistent and well planned.

And that’s okay.

I used to care about plot holes. I used to care about which works were cannon in Star Wars lore. I’m over that now. I’m happy to imagine the books, films and games not as a blow-by-blow historical account of a galaxy far far away, but as campfire stories from within this fun, imaginative world that we’re all invited to listen to. Stories that are in-universe myth and folklore, that we can all snuggle up and listen to while drinking highly alcoholic rum and remembering better times, knowing that wherever the future throws at us, no matter how the world goes to hell around us, we’ll still have the memories, and the ability to make our own new stories in the wonderful Star Wars world we all share.

And that’s okay. No, more than that: that’s beautiful.

Also Star Wars is completely unambiguous on the fact we’re allowed to kill fascists no matter how many times they keep coming back with a new logo, so that’s timely I guess.

So, there’s my hot take two-years after everyone else stopped caring about this stuff, as per bloody usual. Tell me why I’m wrong below, and does anyone else have any truly awful spin-off shows that they kind of have a nostalgic soft spot for?

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sweeethinny · 4 years ago

Text

The Third Time of Three

This was definitely what I expected the most! TW: Abortion

part 1 | part 2 | ao3

‘’Sorry’’ Ginny mumbled in the midst of sobs, lying in a fetal position on the bed while hugging her knees, feeling like scum, the worst of the species ‘‘Sorry’’ She could barely see a foot in front of her face

‘‘Please don’t say that’’ Harry was crying too, hugging her from behind and looking like he was about to pick her up to lull her like he did with his kids ‘‘Please Gin, don’t apologize’’

‘’I didn’t know .. I don’t-- ’’

‘’- I know my love, I know’’

Two days ago..

Harry and Ginny had decided to have another child, no matter how much James and Albus were being less argumentative with each other and the Weasleys had grown up considerably in the last few years, it seemed right.

And it felt right when he took his goddaughter Rose on his lap, or when they saw Ron braiding his daughter's hair, when Dominique climbed onto Harry's lap so she could makeup him, and when little Molly asked Ginny to teach her Flying. It felt right to try again.

Harry was no longer going on suicide missions and had become the Head of Aurors, which made his workload very short, and that Ginny was starting to think about retiring from the Harpies, since The Prophet offered a job as a journalist. James was at an important stage in his life and now he was beginning to enter a stage that he would be able to remember when he was older, and none of them wanted the boy's memories to be of his parents' absence. And Teddy was almost going to Hogwarts, which demanded even more attention.

But it seemed like a good time to try.

They tried - not that it was a horrible thing to do, honestly - and as much as it was sad when the test came back negative, they didn't give up.

Ginny had warned Gwenog this time, told her about the plans and that possibly she would not return after the third child, everything was going well.

Until she fell off the broom in the middle of the World Cup.

It had been chaos, from when the bludger hit her in the ribs and caused her body to be thrown away from the broom, until the time she fell on the floor unconscious, remembering nothing else.

Harry despaired, there was a frightening amount of blood on the floor and Ginny looked quite hurt even though he saw it from several feet up. For a few seconds, as he stared at her lying on the floor, he thought he had lost her. He thought that for some cruel reason, his children would be without their mother, they would lose the best person they had ever met.

But she moved, very little, but she moved, and he started breathing again.

In the next instant, Harry was in the Hospital, walking in the room where Ginny was, still unconscious and looking absurdly fragile. Molly had stayed with the boys, however much Teddy looked like he was about to break down and Albus seemed to lose his lungs with every step his grandparents took away from Harry. James was darkly silent, looking over his grandfather's shoulder towards his father, as if he expected Harry to disappear forever. He later blamed himself for leaving the boys that way, without even explaining that he would return.

When Ginny woke up, she barely remembered where she was or what had happened, the healers kept her under observation until they were sure that everything was fine, and that she would not have any fallout. And when Healer Swattye arrived with the papers in hand, they expected the worst, because no one would bring good news with that face;

‘‘I’m sorry Mrs. Potter, but you lost the baby’’

Ginny has been blaming herself ever since, crying endlessly since she knew, avoiding anyone but Harry, hiding inside the room and finding herself the worst of monsters.

''Albus is worried'' Harry said after her crying soothed, hugging her to his chest and stroking her red hair ''Let him in just to see that you're okay'' He asked, already imagining that his son could barely make it stop in place, anxious about the mother's silence since they returned from the Hospital

‘’What if he sniffs that I’m a bad mother? Children can feel’’ She murmured against his chest, her voice shaky and low. Harry had thought he had never felt so much pain in his life

‘’You’re not, Gin. You will never be .. You didn't know you were pregnant and the Bludger was really strong'' Harry repeated for what seemed like the tenth time, but he wouldn't stop until Ginny understood ''Let the boys come and see you, it'll be good'' The woman sighed, seeming to ponder, before nodding. ‘’I’ll call them’’

Harry knocked on Teddy's room, knowing that the three were there, as they had been since they had returned, sleeping together and holding each other as if they were going to be safer. ‘’Mom wants to see you’’ He said, taking Albus on his lap and waiting for Teddy and James to get up.

The second, had not yet expressed any reaction beyond the silence - deafening - and the few words he had spoken during breakfast today, commenting on not wanting to go to his grandparents' house.

Harry thought he was the one who was suffering the most from Gin's situation.

As soon as they opened the bedroom door, Ginny was sitting on the bed, still looking crying, but at least she smiled when Teddy and Albus ran to the bed, throwing themselves on the mattress and hugging her as if she had run away for decades. James continued to hug Harry's leg.

‘’Come on buddy, I’m going with you .. Mommy wants to see you too’’ Harry whispered, lowering himself to the son who looked like he was about to cry, his brown eyes shining towards his parents bed

‘’Doesn’t she love us anymore?’’ James also whispered, looking at his dad this time.

''Of course she does, she is just in pain… she is missing you'' Harry looked at Ginny, who faced the situation as if it were a horror movie, still being hugged by the other two boys, but still looking about to cry again with the reluctance of the other son ''Come on, let's go'' James moved, accompanying Harry to the bed and climbing with the impulse his father had given him, sitting next to Gin's waist, looking at her with curiosity.

''Mommy, are you okay?'' James asked, not taking his eyes off her eyes ''Daddy said you got hurt'' Ginny swallowed, her heart aching in her chest, wanting to pull the boy close but also wanting respect your moment.

‘’Mom will stay’’ She said hopefully

''I wish I came here to read to you, like you did when I fell, but Dad said I needed to be with Al .. I took care of him, Mom, I didn't fight'' James was still serious, but now his eyes were running tears. Gin was the same, and she couldn't take much longer, pulling him into the collective embrace, kissing the top of his head

''Thank you dear, Teddy told me that you were very patient'' The godson nodded, smiling at James, lying on Gin's shoulder as if he were still small, while Albus was precisely lying with his head on her belly, as if wanted to hear what was inside. James lay on the other shoulder, within her embrace.

‘‘I was scared’’ James whispered in her ear ‘‘But I knew you were coming back’’.

[...]

Ginny managed to sleep that night, and the others too, even when Harry had to leave at dawn to help an Auror who was calling him, and Teddy came to lie with her, hugging her and barely keeping his eyes open for more than a minute before to go back to sleep (and she knew there was Harry's finger on it). She was recovering.

She went to see a healer a few days later and followed his orders about retiring entirely from Quidditch, in order to avoid more moments like that. Ginny could barely contain a few tears when Gwenog hugged her and thanked her for all the years they had worked together, and that she fully understood that it was time for her to go. Asking her to be kind in sports columns involving the Harpies.

And after a few months, after telling her mother what had happened and crying like a baby in her lap; she and Harry tried again.

The healer had said that maybe it would take time, her body was weakened and maybe it would be better for her to talk to the Muggle obstetrician and gynecologist who had delivered the baby and all the monitoring of James and Albus, just to clear conscience.

She and Harry listened carefully to the doctor, did the tests, and Ginny told about the loss of the baby and how it had affected her. Dr Iven, as always, had been calm and empathetic with her situation, reaffirming - even if she had not spoken - that she was not a bad mother for having lost her child and that this was more than she could have imagined.

‘’But now, we’re going to work for the next one to come, and to be healthy’’ He said, before prescribing some more routine tests.

In the first month, nothing happened. Not in the second, or in the third, or in the sixth ... Nothing. But then, after Teddy's 10th birthday (where he secretly asked for a little sister), a few weeks later, Ginny was in a much bigger spurt than usual, and she was sweating a lot, even if it was autumn.

At first she thought it was because working with Rita Skeeter was really stressful, but the woman had spent a week in Wales. Afterwards, she thought she might be entering menopause, but it was impossible, witches only entered after 100 years old. So Ginny took off all her clothes and put herself in front of a mirror, just because she had read this in one of the magazines that Dr Iven kept it at the clinic.

Her breasts were heavier, and her stomach seemed higher than normal, and her vaginal lips were darker, as indicated in the magazine that was due to blood flow in early pregnancy.

It didn't take long for her to put on her clothes and apparate near the Muggle pharmacy, buying several pregnancy tests and then returning home. It was late afternoon, Harry was in the yard helping Albus to plant whatever he had gotten from Neville, James was hanging out with Ron, Mione and Rose, and Teddy would only come tomorrow ... She could hardly stand her curiosity, but she held on until it was later and Harry could be on the side, just because Ginny would feel safer that way.

‘’I bought pregnancy tests’’ She commented as soon as her husband closed the door to their room after putting the two boys to sleep ‘‘I haven’t done any’’

‘’Do you think you are .. are you pregnant? Forget it, of course it does'' They both laughed ''Whatever the outcome, I'm here'' Harry said, and she nodded, running to the bathroom and lowering her pants, anxious to pee soon ''Not even with me you get naked so fast''

''I had three liters of water in the last two hours, I need to pee'' The two were silent while Ginny peed as much of the test as she could, placing them on top of the sink and barely being able to get up from the toilet, hiding her face in her hands and trying not to create too much expectation.

‘’I love you’’ Harry whispered, sitting across from her on the floor ‘‘So much’’

‘’Me too’’ Ginny looked at him, smiling and feeling her chest rumbling with each heartbeat ‘’ How long?’’

‘’One minute’’ He looked at the watch on his wrist ‘‘I think I might pass out at any time’’

‘‘Please don’t’’ Ginny laughed, taking a deep breath and looking at the test row. She wanted it so badly, wanted so much more opportunity ... one last time. Maybe if a girl came now, a little redhead - just this once ... Of course, she would love the baby with her whole life, regardless of sex.

‘’Three minutes’’ Harry spoke, but remained still, looking at her

‘’You take it, I can’t look’’ Ginny hid her face again, blood pounding in her ears .. She wanted it so badly…

''Ginny?'' Harry was trembling when she looked at him, he was looking at the row of tests and tears were falling from his eyes as if it were a running tap, a small smile formed, before giving way to a huge one ''We will be parents’’.

#Harry Potter #Harry and Ginny #harry x ginny #next gen harry potter #Harry!Dad #ginny potter #Ginny!Mom #hinny headcanon #hinny #hinny fanfic #read-a-hinny-fic #hp next gen #harry potter next generation #Teddy Lupin #James Sirius Potter #Albus Severus Potter #lily luna potter

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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years ago

Text

Love Story

Draco X Reader

Request: @dracofeltonmalfoy: your heart breaks at seventeen when you realize that Draco doesn’t love you enough to not marry his betrothed, Astoria. It’s years later and though you’re still hesitant and bitter about what occurred, you still answer the call that Ginny makes to you to help Draco.

A/n: Look at me posting!! And during midterm week no less!! Thank you so much for this request! (I promise I’m getting to the rest of them). And can I say that I am in love with grown up Draco? Like yes ma’am I’ll take them all. Maturity is attractive. Let me know what you think! I love y’all so much.

“You don’t understand,” Draco paced the small room. “I have to marry her,”

“Sure,” I spat. “Marry Astoria. I don’t give a damn anymore Malfoy,” I hadn’t used his last name in such a malice tone in years. I could see the effect that it had on him, his face fell.

“Don’t say that,” He begged softly, “Please, I love you,”

“But not enough,” I raised an eyebrow at him. “What happened to everything that we planned? All of the things you promised me? Where did that Draco go?” My voice became thick with tears. “No, you’re so paranoid about your reputation... I’m not waiting around for you to figure out who you want or who you want to follow. I don’t care.” A heavy silence and I had decided. “Have a nice life, Draco.”

“Y/n,” He called as I stood to leave.

“No,” I snapped. “Just... no. I deserve more than this.”

“I know,” He confessed in a small voice.

That was the last time I spoke to Draco Malfoy in years. At first, I was okay with it. I felt free. I had moved on, found someone new that made what he did to me hurt a bit less. It wasn’t the same, nor what I felt when I was with Draco, but it was enough for the moment. He didn’t last long, and my heart still waited for Draco on some nights, but I had grown up. I had grown confident. I was independent. I didn’t need anyone to tell me they loved me because I loved me. And that was enough. I had healed from having to walk away or face being cut off forever.

I assumed that Draco was happy. His union with Astoria was in the paper. The invitation I received was burned. Why he’d think to invite me left me aggravated and loathing him more than before. But that night I was weak. I cried for Draco Malfoy that night. I almost went. But I refrained. I knew nothing would change even if I did go, so I’d rather be left wondering than left crushed.

The next time I saw Draco’s name in the paper, it was splashed across the front page. A scandal that Skeeter couldn’t wait to publish and get her hands on. Astoria Malfoy caught in an affair with Blaise Zabini. I saw Draco’s stoic face, and though the image moved, and the small child in his arms squirmed, he remained static. I threw the paper down because though it was just a photograph, his eyes still bore into mine, in the same pleading look that he gave me before I left him. I wonder if he knew that I see the photo.

I wonder if he knew that I still loved him even after all these years.

And I had no intention of crossing paths with him. Though I thought about it. A lot. And maybe I had actually written the letter before I burned it... but I decided that no. I was not interfering with his life.

I just never thought that he’d interfere with mine. Well, Harry interfered with my life. Well, Ginny did.

Ginny and I got lunch every once in a while, to catch up along with Hermione. Now that our Hogwarts days and the war was over, an amity fell between the three of us. And it was nice to see some old faces that didn’t cause my heart to rabbit trail into painful memories.

It was a phone call that I had gotten that interfered with my quaint Friday night.

“Are you in town?” Ginny’s voice sounded strained and frantic.

“Yes, why?” I set down my book, standing.

“Can you come over? We... have a situation...” She voiced.

“What sort of situation?” I pressed, going looking for my shoes and cloak. “Harry just did a spell wrong and now he can’t speak English situation or Ron and Harry tried to do something stupid on their brooms and need medical attention sort of situation?” I teased lightly.

“It relates more to the former...” Ginny sounded almost hesitant to give me details. Her voice was suddenly far from the receiver and muffled. “No, Scorpius, put that down! Harry! No don’t encourage him!” That caught my attention.

“Ginny, what in Merlin’s name!?” I demanded.

“Please just get over here, you were better than we were at potions,”

“Ginny,” I baited.

“Thank you!” Was all she got out and I heard a crash before the line disconnected.

Utterly shocked and standing in deafening silence I let out a frustrated growl. After grabbing my carpet bag of miscellaneous counter curses, antidotes, and talismans I took the Floo network to the Potter’s.

And the sight before me was something that I would not have ever imagined. Draco was slung over Harry’s shoulder, looking intoxicated and completely out of it. Nothing like the cold refined man that I knew him to be. Then Scorpius was running around with Albus all trying to be corralled by James and Ginny while Lily laughed in the background, sitting on the counters.

Deciding that Harry could help with the children more than I could, I rushed to his side and took Draco off his hands, supporting him.

“What’s wrong with him?” I bit out, watching as Harry scooped up Albus as Ginny swooped in and caught Scorpius.

“Nothing, well, he’s been drugged but we’re sure it should wear off in a few hours.” Harry appeased, almost nonchalant.

“Drugged?” I demanded, leading Draco to a well-loved recliner.

“I’m finnnnne,” Draco slurred, his fine blond hair hanging into his eyes in a complete mess. “You have such pretty eyes Y/n,” Draco’s head lulled back against the recliner back as his half- opened eyes gazed into mine.

“Yeah, okay,” I smiled sweetly and gave an alarming look to Ginny—Harry having disappeared into the house with the three other children. “You’ve got to be bloody joking,” I hissed, nearing her.

“I know! Harry was filming him. You should have heard him on the way over. Wouldn’t shut up about you.”

“Get him upstairs.” I begged, exasperated and rubbing my face. “I’m going to find Harry.”

“What? Why?” Ginny’s eyebrows furrowed as she set Scorpius down now that he was calmed with the lack of the other children.

“Because no one makes fun of Draco!” I shouted, not realizing the depth of my words, or how much I sounded like I did back at Hogwarts... when Draco loved me.

Ginny and I both seemed to grasp this as I went red and sighed, going to find Harry. After throwing his phone out the third-floor window, I headed back down a level to where Ginny had taken Draco to a spare room. I found Draco asleep in the bed and Ginny leaning against the doorjamb.

“He’s still asking for you,” Ginny muttered. “He wants to know where the ‘fairest maiden has gone and when will she return’” She raised an eyebrow at me.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groaned, distressed. “How am I supposed to deal with him like this?”

“You probably know better than any of us.” Ginny pointed out. “Isn’t there a counter curse? Or something that you have or know?”

“In all my years I’ve seen nothing close to this. It’s like he’s drunk and on Veritaserum and Amorentia and believe me there is no legal potion out there with that sort of affect.”

“So... what do we do with him?” She asked.

“Wait it out? That’s all I know to do.” I paused. “I’ll stick around and make sure he doesn’t start to die or anything... but I can’t fix him,”

Ginny nodded and gave me a pity look. “Are you going to be okay?”

“That is not the question to ask right now,” I muttered, shrugging off my cloak. “Go on up to Harry and your little ones. Make sure Scorpius is alright, I’ll look after him,”

“If you need anything,” She baited.

“I’ll call,” I smiled.

Alone in the room, I sighed and stared at him before heading to the edge of the bed and sitting gently on the edge.

“Draco?” I asked softly, trying to hide the hurt that sparked in my chest.

“Y/n, my fair maiden,” He slurred, trying to get up.

“No, no, you need to lie down,” I scolded, pushing him back down, pressing my hand to his forehead—he didn’t have a fever.

“As my lady commands.” He mumbled, causing me to withdraw my touch.

“Don’t.” I inhaled sharply. “You need to sleep Draco. You need to get better.”

“I’m already better with you here,” A dopey smile crossed his face.

“Oh my god Draco!” I snapped, standing, pacing the small room. “Stop saying things like that! You don’t mean them, and I don’t want to hear it!”

When I didn’t get a response from him, I looked over and he was fast asleep at an awkward angle. Sighing, I brushed the stray strands of silky hair from his face and slowly righted him, taking off his shoes and socks positioning him in the center of the bed. After I laid a blanket over him, I sat in the lone chair that was in his room and taking my book from my bag, started again.

It neared eleven at night, and he still hadn’t woken back up. My book finished, I sighed again and stood, stretching. Leaving his room, I saw Harry nodding off in his chair downstairs, Scorpius in his arms, also asleep.

“To bed with you,” I smiled, helping him up.

“Draco?”

“Still asleep.” I informed. “I’m gonna change and I’ll be back to watch him.”

_______________________

Draco blinked, his head pounding, trying to keep up with the blurred image around him. The first thing he noticed was the blanket over him and his shoes were gone and that you were asleep in the chair next to his bed and this bed was most certainly not his—neither were you for that matter. His memory was fuzzy, and he didn’t remember much, and he didn’t like not remembering.

In an attempt to get up, he woke you, not sure why some part of him cared. He didn’t ask to be taken care of like a child. He processed that he was at the Potter’s for some godforsaken reason, and that you were next to him. Some part of him wished he was just having a really awful nightmare.

“Draco?” You asked sleepily.

Who else would it be?

“Yes,” He spoke quietly.

“Are you... you again?” You mumbled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He snapped, defensive that you were there, or anywhere near him. The nightmare continued.

“You were drugged... were acting weird for a while... I had to throw Harry’s phone out a window.” Your words made some sense... except the last part.

“Why would you do that?” He mused, enjoying your half-asleep state.

“He recorded you... was making fun of you... wasn’t right...” You stretched and rubbed your face yawning.

“I see,” There was a pang in his heart at your words. Something reminiscent in them. Maybe this wasn’t a nightmare after all.

You nodded and stood, staggering slightly. “How long have you been there?”

“What time is it?” You asked weakly.

“Five in the morning,”

“Mhmm... twelve hours? Finished my book.” You gestured vaguely and yawned again. “M’gonna head back home.”

You started to walk towards the door and almost fell. He was there to catch you though. Your hands clutched at his shirt, running the fabric through your fingertips.

“Okay, yeah. You’re going to stay right here,” Draco muttered. “Because I am not dragging you down those stairs or back home.”

“I’m fine, I’ll get Ginny to take me home,” You yawned gesturing vaguely, your eyes still didn’t open all the way.

“No, you’re not. You’re sleep deprived, and whereas I can handle it, you can’t.” However long he had been asleep—twelve hours apparently—had given him enough rest to be completely awake and alert.

“You’re bossy.”

He chuckled at your sleep ridden words and moved you to his bed, tucking you under the blanket he had been under. You smiled and inhaled them deeply, relaxing instantly. He wondered why you thought of him as a reason to relax.

When he got up to leave, your eyes opened partly.

“Where are you going? You need to rest more. You were drugged.”

“I’ve dealt with worse drugs Y/n,”

“Mmm I don’t think you’ve ever been like that. I’ve seen you high and drunk and that was... something else.” You mumbled. “Please rest Draco. Stay with me and sleep.”

Your words were like daggers to his heart. Were you aware that you were saying them? Surely you couldn’t be, because surely you wouldn’t ever mean them. It had been too long since you ever murmured those words.

“Am I not allowed to find to where my son has gone?” He mused, knowing you’d let him go for that and then be too far into sleep to notice that he didn’t come back.

You hummed in agreement he supposed. Just as he went to close the door, he heard you jumbled words again.

“Why would you say that?” There was hurt and confusion in your tone. “Why would you...?”

Not knowing whatever that was about, Draco closed the door softly behind him and sighed. He felt disgusting. He wanted nothing more than a warm bath and some fresh clothes and for Merlin’s sake a comb. But those things would have to wait, because bright blue eyes blinked up in the early morning as they always did.

“Good morning my little birdie,” Draco smiled, pulling Scorpius into his arms. “Quite a change of scenery here isn’t it?” He mused, to a nodding giggling Scorpius.

“Draco, you’re awake,” The tired voice belonged to Ginny, who sounded surprised even in her weary state.

“I am,” A quiet pause. “Thank you... I’m not quite sure what happened last night but...”

“Do you have any memory at all?” Ginny asked, taking out a jar of applesauce, setting a bowl and spoon for Scorpius.

“I... no. I was at the Gala, next thing I know, I wake up and Y/n is asking if I’m me again,” Draco thanked her and began to spoon feed Scorpius the apple puree.

“Are you, you?” Ginny asked, leaning against the counter before setting off to brew a pot of coffee.

“Quite,” He clipped. “What does that even mean? What happened last night?”

Unbridled terror set in Draco’s chest as Ginny recounted the night back to him. The only thing that kept him from breaking something was the toddler in his arms, clinging to him.

“I... I was asking for Y/n?” Draco asked, his voice shaking.

“Honey, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say even intoxicated and drugged, you knew she’d be there for you,” Ginny raised her eyebrow at him. “You wanna explain that?”

Draco shot her a cold look and went back to aiding Scorpius eat. Maybe that had been why you asked why he would say something like that... and that was a valid and honest question: why would he? He had gotten over you. That was that. He moved on.

Not that he loved Astoria. No, he could never see her as more than someone who drove you away from him. And perhaps that was the reason behind her affair. Maybe it was because she knew that he didn’t love her, and she didn’t love him. Some part of him wished that she had just been honest with him... then it wouldn’t be such gossip in the Wizarding World. They could have divorced and gone on their own ways. But perhaps not. The marriage was arranged. It would take more than a divorce to end it. Perhaps the scandal was for the best after all.

“Thank you for your hospitality, but I’m afraid I have to go,” Draco said softly.

“Draco,” Ginny chided. “You can’t just leave her here,”

“I can do as I please,” Draco snapped harshly before remembering himself. “Thank you, once more,”

Draco only hesitated when he went to fetch his shoes from the spare room, and caught sight of you sleeping soundly, a soft smile on your face. Something in his chest distorted a bit more.

_________________________

I woke in the late morning, semi remembering why I was at Ginny’s, then it all came flooding back. I didn’t even have to ask where Draco had gone because I knew he had gone. I knew he’d leave at the first chance he’d get.

Apologizing and thanking Ginny, I headed back home to shower and don clean clothes. Ginny gave me a worried look and said to call if I needed anything. I assured her I was fine and wasn’t going to have an emotional breakdown. Crying while I showered meant nothing.

I was fine.

Monday at work, Harry found me in the staff room fixing a cup of tea.

“You’re going to have to talk to him eventually,” Harry nudged my shoulder as we stood at the mini coffee bar, not even having to specify who he thought I should speak to.

“I’m not gonna follow him around like a lost puppy Harry, I’m done with that.” I shifted the weight on my feet. “He’s grown, he can handle himself,”

“Well I get that, but you can... act human at least. You’re shutting him out completely.” Harry pointed out. “And I don’t think either of you want that,”

“I wouldn’t know what he wanted,” I sighed in vain. “It’s not that easy Harry,” I pressed, cradling my mug in my hands. “I haven’t worried about him before, why should I now?”

“Because when he was drugged all he could do was ask for you and you dropped everything to make sure he was alright and slept in a chair for a night to keep an eye on him?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“And maybe it was the drug and maybe I’m a decent person,” I refuted.

“All I’m saying I’ve been his work partner for a better half of five years and I’ve never seen him like this. He’s shutting everyone else out since the affair... everyone but you,” Harry’s green eyes reaffirmed his words.

I stared at my tea and didn’t say a word. I didn’t want to believe Harry’s words. I didn’t want to entertain the idea that maybe there was something left between Draco and I. But no matter how much I didn’t want to, I still thought about it all day during work, despite my best efforts.

How fitting it was that it was raining as I stepped onto the London street. Typical of London, no doubt, but it seemed as a sign all the same. Going to cast a shielding charm I froze when I saw in my peripheral pale skin and near white hair. I tried not to pay him any mind, but it seemed that whatever intentions I had were stopped by the words Harry had said earlier. My eyes wandered out to the city streets as rain started to fall slightly harder.

“Y/n?” Draco called my attention, his use of my name barely having any life in it.

“Yes?” I tore my attention away from the view.

“It’s raining,”

“Stellar observation,” I commented, remembering my shielding charm, creating an umbrella over me.

“Perhaps you would like to get out of it?” His voice was hesitant. “I suppose I do owe you for Friday night,”

That caught my attention and I finally turned to look at him. His was reserved, guarded. Yet there was something in his eyes that he couldn’t hide. A hope. A wish. A fantasy that I had written myself out of.

“You don’t owe me anything,” I finally whispered.

A sad sort of smile played at his lips. His eyes still didn’t leave mine as if we were transfixed on another, the stars wishing us to remain connected.

Screw the stars.

“Have a nice evening,” I ushered out before Apparating back home.

It was that night that I gave in. For the first time in almost ten years I gave in. There was a small fabric box tucked into my closet, collecting dust. Green and black with silver engravings. Tears streaming down my face, I sat on my bedroom floor and opened it.

It was every letter he wrote me. I should have burned them long ago, but I never did.

My Dearest, Y/n,

In the midst of this darkness, you are the only light I need. I’d face a world full of demons for the sake of you, my angel. I know it is dark now, and this path isn’t ideal, but I will fight for you, I will fight with you. Stand by my side my dearest angel. Be the fairytale maiden in this narrative and let me be your hero. I’ll never leave you, my love. And when morning light comes, I shall be in your arms again and my world will be complete.

Look after my heart, I’ve left it with you,

Your Draco

My Beloved, Y/n,

Do you know what my paradise would be? You and me, away from it all. Free and able to love and live freely. Rainy days and warm cups of tea. Even without a fire to keep us warm, the warmth of your smile will keep me from freezing even on the coldest night. And though it may be nothing more than you reading a book or watching the sun rise, you’d be my goddess, the reason I existed, the one that I praised and prayed to each morning and evening. My paradise would be you and I, in a heaven of our own when I could worship you in every way, in every language known to man.

Your Draco

My Darling, Y/n,

How this summer grows longer with every day that passes. I wish that I weren’t away in Paris having to accompany my parents. I’d much rather be in your arms. And each night I watch the stars and the moon, knowing that you are doing the same. We are watching the same moon after all, no matter how far apart we are. That gives me more hope that you are true, and not a dream that I’ve let run wild.

And just as the night that I could not see the moon because of the clouds, I know that even now, though I do not see you, I know you are still there and that you still love me. You are my moon, my darling. You are my stars, my night sky. You hold every bit of majesty and wonder as they do.

I shall be back soon my love,

Your Draco

Though the pile of unread letters was still tall, my vision was blurred by tears and heart wrenching sobs that broke from my chest. Hugging my knees and hiding my face in my arms, I wept. For the first time in years, I let myself mourn Draco Malfoy. For the love that I had for him. For the love that we shared. For the boy I knew in Hogwarts and for the man I resented. For the Draco Malfoy that called to me while drugged and inebriated. For the Draco Malfoy who had tried to make amends. For the Draco Malfoy I had turned down.

I mourned the girl in the mirror as well. For her broken jaded heart. For the years she spent alone and in denial. I mourned the girl who would still do anything for him if he’d only ask. I mourned the girl who was tired of trying to be strong on her own. I mourned the girl who craved companionship even though she was confident in herself.

I cried for the lovers in the letters. I held them close to my chest and cried. Tears dripped off of my cheeks and onto the faded aged parchment. Senseless words left my lips as I tried to rationalize these emotions. As I tried to make sense of this feeling—something that I had neglected for too long.

The hour was late as my fire burned lower and lower in my hearth. I sat curled up under a blanket on the floor with a mug of tea. Watching the flames, I let myself reminisce about the past. About Draco. About what could have been. A small smile lingered on my lips as gentle tears fell occasionally.

The rest of the week, I didn’t run into Draco. Not that I sought him out. Or that our departments ever crossed. Or that I cared.

I did however run into a former Malfoy in Diagon Alley a week after having to babysit Draco.

“Astoria,” my voice was calm and gentle as rage lurked beneath.

“Y/n,” she seemed almost happy to see me as she came forward to hug me. My cold step back stopped her, her eyes finding my judgemental gaze. Her demeanor changed.

“Of all the people I know, I thought you’d understand,” her voice was guarded and hurt.

“Thought I’d understand?” I nearly gasped, surprised at my anger towards her. “I know Draco like I know my own mind. I hope you’re happy because you’ll never find someone that trusting and kind again.” Our glares combatted another as tension grew between us.

“You walked out on him same as I did.” She accused. “Who do you think had to pick him up from that?” Her words were sharp as I took a breath in.

“I walked away because he had to marry you!” I snarled. “I’d never walk out on him if I had another choice!” We were starting to draw attention of passersby. I didn’t really care. “I chose his happiness over mine,”

“Oh really?” She didn’t seem convinced.

“I chose your happiness over mine, even.” I realized. “He had to get married. He had to marry rich. A pureblood. Someone his parents approved of. He desperately wanted their approval...” my voice fell as the memories came flooding back. “That made him happy back then, doing what he thought was right...”

“You should be thanking me then!” Astoria exasperated. “I gave him his happiness!”

“Are you serious?” I demanded. “You broke his heart! You left him with a child alone! You publicly humiliated him! In clearing your name from the Malfoy’s you’ve ruined his life! And you think he’s happy now!?”

“How about we ask him?” She countered; her gaze fixed on someone in the distance.

I whirled around, meeting curious jaded blue eyes as he strolled down the lane.

“Draco,” The soft gasp left my lips.

“What’s the meaning of this?” His voice was calm despite the firmness it held as he addressed me, not Astoria.

“Nothing,” I answered softly. “It’s nothing,”

“Sure, defend his honor and call it nothing,” Astoria sneered.

“You don’t get to talk,” I snapped, turning back to her. “You’ve done enough.”

“Y/n,” Draco chided softly, taking a place beside me. “I can handle this,”

“Draco,” I argued, looking up at him only to be silenced by a steady pleasing gaze from his eyes.

“Astoria,” He finally greeted, and I could see his guard go up. There was a warning in his single word and something passed between them.

“Draco,” She nodded then turned to leave without another word. He went to leave as well, and I caught his arm.

“Draco, hang on,” I called.

As he faced me, a sadness lingered in his eyes. I wondered about Harry’s words and how he was shutting everyone out. Everyone but me.

“If that offer is still open...” I tested. “I’d love to get out of the rain with you,”

Calculations ran through his eyes and I could see each one. For a moment I thought my request was a lost cause. That he was about to turn me down as I turned him down not a few days ago. Our eyes locked and the stars seemed to draw us back together. Now... now I felt something different. Something new in my heart towards Draco. It wasn’t what it had been before, but something morphed, changed, unyielding.

“Alright,” He nodded with a sigh.

“If you don’t want to... you don’t owe me anything Draco,” I rushed out, taking a small step back.

“Publicly defending my honor might count for something,” He mused softly. “Shall we?”

“I think I mentioned tea,” A soft chuckle left my lips as we entered Florean Fortescue Ice Cream Parlor.

“This is a favorite of Scorpius’,” Draco murmured. “I’ve grown accustomed to it...” He paused. “You used to like it as well,” A small smirk lingered on his face. “Has that changed?”

“No,” I admitted, flushing a bit pink.

“Butter pecan, waffle cone?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Waffle bowl,” I amended. “I’m not a child,”

“Oh, I’m sure,” He let out a soft laugh and ordered for the two of us. He hadn’t changed either, he still chose mint chocolate chip in a sugar cone.

“So, where’s Scorpius, he’s not old enough for Hogwarts, is he?” I asked as we sat at a small table outside.

“Merlin, no,” Draco chuckled. “He’ll be six in January, and at the moment he’s with my mother. She watches him while I’m away at work,” He said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“How’s he doing with—um...” I asked timidly,

Draco’s smile sobered as his gaze dropped to the table to the used napkins that had gotten the stickiness off of our hands and left colorful wrappings from the cones.

“Or not,” I whispered. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It wasn’t my place,”

“Still the apologetic I see,” A sad sort of smile hit his lips. “And he’s taking it hard... harder than I am, I think. I knew she didn’t love me... I don’t think he ever understood it all...”

“I’m so sorry,” I offered.

He shot me an amused look.

“I mean it,” I insisted. “It’s not fair for either of you...”

“Thank you,” Genuine gratitude held in his voice.

“Oi, Malfoy! Lunch ended twenty minutes ago!”

I heard a familiar voice and turned to see Harry walk into the small shop. As soon as Harry saw me sitting across from Draco, his demeanor changed and a grin grew on his face as if to say: ‘I told you so,’ but to which one of us I wasn’t sure.

“Hi Y/n,” Harry said cheerfully.

“Not a word, Potter,” Draco and I said simultaneously before catching the other’s gaze. Harry and I began to laugh, and I heard the gentle sound of Draco’s true laughter—something he rarely did, even when I knew him, but I cherished the sound all the same.

“I’m glad you two got to catch up, I am, but Draco, Mulligan has my arse because you’re missing,” Harry air-quoted the last word.

Sighing, Draco stood. “Y/n,” Was all he said as a goodbye before he and Harry set off.

I sat and stared at the empty space he left for a while, wondering what was going on between us. Was something going on between us? My heart said yes but my mind said no. I had forfeited the right to have anything with him. I walked away.

But still I wondered.

The next morning my phone kept chiming. Again, and again it wouldn’t stop with notifications and calls. I groaned and grabbed it off my beside table and squinted at it. A lot of the notifications were from friends and people I rarely talked too. One of them was from Ginny. I opened that one.

“How was your date?” It read and showed a picture of Draco and me at the ice cream parlor yesterday. We looked happy. The headline read:

Malfoy Moving On? Head Auror Caught with Old Classmate Sweetheart After Scandal

Then it dawned on me. This made the news. National news.

Scrolling through my phone, I found a number that I had but never called before. I had gotten it from Harry and Ginny long ago for emergences if Harry got injured on a case. I don’t think he knows I have it.

“Hello? Auror Malfoy,” A slightly tired voice answered, and it drew a smile on my lips before I remembered why I called.

“Draco,” I began, not knowing how to start this conversation.

“Y/n? How did you get my number?” In his weariness his tone was a lot harsher and blunt. His words stung.

“Harry gave it to me in case I needed it if something went wrong on one of your cases,” I explained softly. “I can delete it if you want... I was just wondering if you’ve seen this morning’s paper yet,”

“I have not,” He replied.

“Oh,” Anxiety grew in my chest. “Call me when you do?” I squeaked out. “Or don’t. Yeah, bye,” I quickly hung up and screamed at the ceiling, throwing my phone across the room. “Stupid Draco Malfoy!” I shouted at no one. Staring at the ceiling I wasn’t aware of how long I sat there.

Then my phone started ringing across the room. Of course, it was Draco.

“Hello?” I answered timidly.

“When can you be at the Manor? We need to talk,” Nothing scared me more than those four words.

“I—uh... half an hour?” I fumbled for words. “Draco—” The line disconnected. “Draco!” I yelled in frustration.

My body trembled as I got ready, knowing that that last time we had “talked” had ended our relationship and set us on different paths. I hoped to the stars that that wouldn’t happen again. I... I liked having Draco in my life. I wanted to be there for him, because according to Harry, I was the only one he would let in. Then there was the matter of whatever happened the night he was wasted and calling for me.

Taking the Floo network, I stepped into Malfoy Manor—a place I hadn’t been in over ten years. Draco was waiting for me in the grand foyer, appearing quite unkept, his hair a rumpled mess and his dress shirt still untucked, the tie hanging loosely around his neck.

“Hello,” I offered softly.

He hummed a greeting and motioned for me to follow him. I thought that I was going to throw up with the amount of anxiety bubbling in my stomach. I didn’t like this at all.

Leading me into the grand kitchen he nodded to the island bar where two mugs of tea had been set out. My heart panged as I looked at the warm liquid that held the right hue of creaminess and I wondered if Draco remembered how I took my tea after all this time.

“I’m having Mulligan and Granger take care of it,” was all he said as he took a careful sip of his tea, his gaze fixed upon the newspaper on the counter before us.

“Take care of it?” I pressed, frowning.

“The photos. The newspapers.” He filled in.

“No, I get that,” I almost rolled my eyes, “But why? It’s just gossip...”

“Why?” Draco almost snapped. I looked to my tea ashamed. He took a breath.

“Do you regret it? Yesterday?” I barely spoke.

“Why would I?” He acted if I were the insane one here, “We went out. We enjoyed each other’s company. It was fine.”

“Then why would you tell Mulligan to— “

“I didn’t.” He stopped me. “He told me he was doing it. He was supposed to have stopped it from ever happening.”

“You knew. You knew this was going to happen,”

“Yes, or something like it, and I tried to stop it. The press has been... unforgiving of my name and business as of late and I didn’t want to drag anyone else into it,”

I nodded and looked down till I heard him sigh.

“Especially not you,” He tacked on.

“What?” My sleep deprived brain was trying to catch up.

Draco pursed his lips and stared at the photo of us smiling at another on the front page.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I do believe that I have forfeited the right to ask anything of you or hope to include you into my life in any way,” Melancholy riddled his words and my heart fell as I yearned to reach out for him.

“So, you’ve been avoiding me?” I didn’t understand the frustration I felt. “I... You—God above Draco.” I hissed. “Why don’t you let my make that choice myself? I forfeited that right just as much as you did,”

“I don’t see how,”

“I walked away from you... I made that choice.”

“But did you have a choice?” Draco countered softly.

I didn’t have a response for that. Not a good one that I could defend well. Sure, I could claim I did and that I made the choice... but back then, our hands were tied. There was fear and war and uncertainty, and perhaps I didn’t have a choice after all.

He spoke before I had the chance to form a sound argument.

“As you know work with Harry as well.”

“Yes,” I acknowledged.

“And that a week ago Friday was a bit of a disaster for the both of us,”

“Wouldn’t be one of my least favorite nights, but a disaster... sure.” I drawled, raising an eyebrow. He ignored my taunt and pressed on.

“Harry suggested that I take you out to make it up to you. Hence the invitation that one day and then our date yesterday,” His explanation made me pause.

“That was a date?” I asked, anxiety growing in my chest of where this could go.

“I mean... it fit all the perimeters of a date.” He was testing the waters as much as I was.

I let out a short laugh.

“I suppose it did,” I nodded to the paper in front of us.

“He also said that perhaps I shouldn’t have to be inebriated to figure out and express my emotions toward you—or anyone for that matter,” He tacked on, a mumbled mess.

“I... you—”

“You asked me why I would say something like what I said,” Draco gave, pressing on, not giving me a moment to process. “I doubt you remember it—you were half awake—but... No matter how much I’ve lost the right and privilege, I want you in my life, Y/n. Apart of it, if you’re willing,”

They talked about time freezing around you and how everything comes into focus. And that there are moments when all of the heartache and pain will one day count for something, and perhaps this was it. This was that moment. That point that I could make all of the pain and tears mean something beautiful. Something not quite new, but no longer old and forgotten.

“I... I want you in my life too,” I whispered the confession. “It’s... it’s really nice... to have you back,” My gaze dropped to the counter and the tea in my hands as guilt pierced through me.

“Can... can you ever forgive me? For all the hurt and pain I’ve caused you? Have I done too much that there’s no hope?”

“I... I never blamed you.” I admitted. “Or if I did, I don’t now. But Draco, we’re both different people now. I... I need your patience. Because as much as I want to say yes, I... I don’t know. I don’t know what hurts are going to come back up or what scars might reopen... If you’re willing to deal with that...”

“If you’re willing to deal with the rumors and gossip and stuffy life that I lead... I’ll wait a thousand lifetimes for you to be ready again,”

________________________

The kindness and forgiveness in your eyes brought him back. Way back. To the Yule Ball when you had been introduced to him. It was a dance of formalities and posture. He knew that you were a bit of a flirt, but after spending time with you, he could see that your bright over-friendly personality earned you such a reputation.

When Draco was younger, when he was at Hogwarts, when you were by his side, he thought he knew three things that would never change.

The first was that he was a Malfoy. He had to marry rich, marry whoever his parents picked out for him. There was no debate about that. It was the way things were. Keep the pureblood line going and the wealth in the family, if not expound upon it. He was the only son of his parents and it was his duty to carry the name on, carry it higher. He was a Malfoy.

The second was that as soon as he saw your face, that all changed. There was no one quite like you. He had never met anyone who matched him heart and mind and yet somehow you were kind and gentle at the same time. Your intelligent eyes that made him forget his name. He knew there would never be a day that he didn’t love you. That freedom you gave. He loved you.

And thirdly: he was betrothed to Astoria Greengrass.

That was about a decade ago. Now, only one of those things held true. Blinking away the memories and thoughts, he met your intelligent determined eyes once more. Everything came crashing down around him. The truth.

Draco didn’t have to marry rich. He had and the girl he married had an affair with another man and he was free from the obligation. He was no longer engaged to Astoria. He no longer had to entertain her listless petty stories or her frivolous shallow needs. He had a son. That kept the family name going, that kept the pureblood line alive.

But Draco still loved you.

And God damn him if he wouldn’t find every way to express that to you.

Maybe that was the reason behind his further actions. It was the reasoning behind why he reached out to you, stroking your face softly as he did long ago. He caressed your cheek as if it were precious marble, a sculpture given to him by the gods.

And for the first time in ten years, Draco didn’t have to fantasize what it would be like to kiss you again. He didn’t have to desperately cling to how your lips felt against his. He didn’t have to deny how much he missed you.

Frozen under his touch, Draco worried that perhaps this was something he should regret. That he should stop. That he should deny still.

But your hand came up slowly, not to push him away but to hold him close as he held you, cradling his face as if he were the most precious thing to you. Your fingers curled into his hair, causing the butterflies in his chest to set flight. Your soft sounds were met with his steady purrs.

His tongue danced with yours in a forgotten waltz. Even after all this time you still tasted the same: sweet, alluring, and faintly like chai.

But you pulled away all too soon for his liking.

“You’re gonna be the death of me one day, Malfoy,” A smile curled on your lips.

“‘Til death do we part,” He jested lightly, earning a slight giggle from you as you pulled away and rebalanced yourself on the barstool.

“So... are we doing this? Like actually doing this?” You asked, fear lurking in your voice.

“I will do everything I can to make this right. To do this properly. To give you what you deserve,” He couldn’t quite understand why you laughed this time.

“I know you love your rules and traditions, but Draco I don’t need any of that and I don’t want any of that. I just want you. To get to know you again. To get to know Scorpius. I want my friend back,”

The desperate plea in your voice mirrored in your eyes and maybe he understood you a bit better and maybe himself, because he wanted that as well. He wanted you in his life. Woven into it. And possibly the first step to having that, was to get to know you again.

So, he would wait. He would learn. And he would love you till his dying day.

“That would be enough,” Draco smiled softly and took your hand into his.

A few months of dates and quiet nights and lunches together in the break room and the rumors in the papers seemed to fade and the shock value seemed to wane to others. But Draco was still amazed that you decided to stay by his side. That you let him back into your narrative. That you completely adored Scorpius more than his own mother ever did.

As you crouched beside Scorpius and a peacock on the Manor grounds as the three of you took an evening stroll, the smile you gave him made him believe that the past ten years were nothing but a terrible dream. A trial to prove that he had earned this reward.

Though you had asked for patience, it turned out that he needed some as well. Draco had no idea how deep seeded the betrayal from Astoria and his supposed best friend affected him. There were times that he grew angrier than he meant to. There were times he was harsher than he wanted to be. There were times he was more distant than he needed to be. There were times that he was more reckless than he should be.

And there were times when something lingered in your eyes that he didn’t quite enjoy. Fear, or hesitancy. There were new boundaries that you had, and he had learned to respect. You weren’t the same girl he knew at Hogwarts. You were independent, confident, self-made, but still kind and gentle. You didn’t depend on him for everything. You didn’t lean into every touch. You didn’t smile at every jest. His perspective of you changed, and he loved every change made.

A weekend when Scorpius had gone to his parent’s house in Paris for a weekend was the night that Draco truly felt alone for the first time in a long time—since you had been back in his life. As the hour grew later, he paced his study, debating on going to see you, knowing well you’d still be awake.

As the ghosts of his past came to life and overpowered your gentle voice in his mind, Draco was decided. Drawing his wand, he apparated straight to you.

“What in Merlin’s name!?” You demanded, wand drawn, looking frantic, only relaxing when you saw that it was him.

“I... couldn’t sleep. Everything is...” His voice was small, like a frightened child.

You lowered your wand as he stood in the doorway of your bedroom. Running a hand through your hair you sighed softly. He knew he was asking a lot—too much even. It had been a boundary of yours. You weren’t ready to sleep with him—innocently, not sensually—yet.

“Well, come on then,” You smiled softy, sliding over in your bed. “Just like old times,” His memory flickered back to the sleepless nights in the dorms at Hogwarts behind drawn drapes.

“This isn’t me trying—” Draco started, not wanting to push your boundary. He’d sleep on the couch for Merlin’s sake. He just wanted to be near someone who cared for him.

“I know,” You replied softly, reading him like an open book, as you were always able to.

“And I don’t—”

You rose from your bed, going over to him.

“Still trust me?” You whispered, your hands running up his arms, earning a shudder from him.

Draco nodded; his gaze transfixed on you. He knew what the question meant. It had been a routine of yours at Hogwarts. When he couldn’t seem to get a grip on the day and came to you at night, you were always there to care for him.

And you were there now.

Slowly you unbuttoned his shirt, leaving it to the floor. Going over to your dresser, you pulled out one a shirt that he recognized as his and placed it in his hands. He gripped the fabric tightly.

“You kept this?” His eyebrow furrowed.

A shrug left your shoulders as you neared your dresser again, opening another drawer. “Cotton or fleece?” The question was soft.

“Cotton,”

“I have flannel?” You offered, pulling out a pair of plaid sweats.

“That’ll do,” Draco smiled as you handed him the pants; he gripped them tightly as well.

“You’re safe,” You encouraged, stroking his cheek. “No one’s going to hurt you. No one expects anything of you. You’re alright here... You’re with me,”

“You knew I was coming,” It wasn’t an accusation.

“Eventually, yes. You hate nights alone.” The warmth of your eyes was intoxicating.

“I prefer it when you’re here,” He admitted.

“Then go change and we can get some sleep, yeah?”

That night had been quiet. It had taken some time, but eventually you laid in his arms, holding onto him as he held onto you. Silent tears fell for the both of you—of fear and acceptance and a new beginning. A step forward.

..........

Draco paced the floor, keeping a close watch to his temper as you arrived, looking confused and worried. And with the scarce information that he gave to you, it was well placed. Without a word—fearing that it might not be a kind one— he led you into the den, to where Scorpius was sitting on the couch, looking guilty and repentant.

“Scorpius,” Draco’s voice was concise and controlled. “Would you care to explain exactly what you told me to Miss Y/n?”

Some anger leaked through. A gentle hand on his shoulder reminded him to find calmness. A gentle smile on your face appeased and welcomed Scorpius as he began to speak.

“I... well... mother left. And papa had these letters... I found them and...I didn’t know who she was... but I thought—” the young boy stammered. “Father always has potions on hand down in his study... I thought that—if I just... he could be happy again,” Scorpius’ voice broke as he started to cry.

Your face crumpled softly, and Draco could see that you yearned to reach out to Scorpius and gather him into your arms but you refrained.

“So, you’re the one who drugged Draco,” You understood his son’s words, not nearly as upset as Draco had been because something else held your attention. “You kept my letters?” You seemed baffled. “All this time?”

Draco scoffed and his face remained stoic, but his cheeks tinged pink, affirming what you had said. And possibly it was the right thing to call you over to deal with this because with calmness and kindness that he never could find, you reprimanded Scorpius.

“Do you understand how dangerous that was?” You scolded. “Potions are not something to be played with or mixed. You could have really hurt your father.”

“I know,” Scorpius cried out, tears falling. “But—he... I thought I could get some answers. Find out who he loved—”

Your eyes met his with wonder and curiosity. There was no escaping that one. Draco wasn’t sure he wanted to avoid it.

“Okay,” Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, his face folded into a pained expression. “We’ll talk about this later young man, now go start your studies.”

“Yes sir,” Scorpius nodded and disappeared into the house.

“Draco don’t be hard on him,” You pleaded, reaching out to him. “He’s just a kid,”

“I know,” Draco sighed, taking your hands. “That’s why I called you. I knew you’d handle it better than I ever could.”

“I’m not his mother, Draco,” You reminded him softly. “I don’t have authority here,”

Draco held his tongue before he really did ask you to be Scorpius’ mother but Merlin he wanted to. And maybe you could see that in his eyes because you looked down, flushing.

“He does seem truly sorry,” You changed the topic quickly before something was confessed after all.

“I think so,” Draco looked to the door from Scorpius had exited. Sighing softly, a hopeless chuckle left his lips. “As livid I am that he got into my stuff, and that I was drugged by a six- year-old, it brought me back to you,”

“I suppose it did,” You smiled. “As long as he promises to keep from your stuff, and to come to talk to you instead of taking matters into his own hands... I don’t see any harm.”

Draco nodded and pulled you into his arms, finding comfort in your solace and steady compassion.

“So...” You drawled, pulling away from him. “You kept my letters?” A mischievous smirk fell upon your face as you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yes,” He admitted, defeated. “I know, I know. It’s wrong and—” You burst out laughing, causing him to pause.

“I kept yours too,” Beaming at him, you reached up and stroked his cheek. “Granted I didn’t read them until again the day we got caught in the rain...”

Draco chuckled softly and drew you in for a kiss, marveled that you were even standing in front of him.

______________________________

There was a day that Draco did ask me. Another four words that made my heart soar and want to scream from the rooftops that he was truly mine. It had taken some time, make no mistake. It was redefining what it meant to be married and figuring out what it meant to marry for love and not advantage, but we made it. There was love, patience, and a strong foundation.

“Ginny, I can’t do this,” I whispered, tearing my eyes away from the mirror. “I... I’m not a wife... I—”

“Hush,” She ordered and fixed a hair that was out of place. “You’re the perfect one for him,”

“But... me? Getting married? I can’t.”

“You love him, don’t you?” She tested, and I nodded, not trusting my voice. “And you can’t see a day without him in your future?” I nodded again, fighting back tears.

Ginny’s face softened. “I know,” She took my hand. “It’s a lot and it’s scary sometimes, but you deserve this. You deserve a happily ever after with a man who is willing to do what it takes to give it to you,”

I looked down at the floral lace of my dress, blinking away the moisture in my eyes.

“Maybe you’re right...” I murmured.

“Of course, I am,” She smiled and picked up my bouquet, offering it to me.

Cannon in D began, and the door opened. My veil hid the water in my eyes and the fear on my face. Fears that faded when I saw him at the end of the aisle. He looked just as nervous as I did. It made me smile. It was so like him to be nervous about this. I almost laughed.

I took Harry’s elbow and inhaled deeply.

“You look beautiful,” He murmured.

“Thank you,” I mumbled back as we made our way down the aisle.

Harry placed my hand into Draco’s, and I felt secure. I felt safe and sure of my future. My eyes darted to Scorpius who I had seen grown up the past couple of years. He waved to me and I giggled before turning back to Draco.

There were tears in his eyes as he beamed down at me, our vows exchanged, and rings placed.

“Don’t you cry,” I scolded quietly. “Because then I’ll start crying,”

“I’ve waited so long for this day,” He defended. “I’m allowed to cry,”

I laughed as my husband leaned down and pressed his lips to mine, sealing our promise to each other.

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