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mumufic · 2 months ago

Text

Something in the works, but also I’m craving validation so sharing here because I can.

Mirrors

A totally random Prongsfoot fic I came up with on the spot because I’m braindead.

Characters: James Potter, Sirius Black

Summary: James and Lily break off their relationship in a spectacularly unhinged moment of absurd accidental magic. Some bodily harm to stray Snapes may have occurred, and James just feels utterly wretched about himself. What’s a guy to do but call his best mate for a rescue?

(Listen, this is unfinished. I’m still finessing what happens in the next scene, but please read and validate me. I haven’t written in forever and I think this whole thing is unintentionally funny the same way James does lmao)

It wasn't that Lily was a terrible date. James would be the first person to swear up and down that It Was Not Her Fault. It was just... how was he to restrain himself when, even after she affirmed she had nothing to do with Snivellus, that greasy bastard was right there, on the fairground. In the middle of their fucking date. Around muggles even.

Really, he should have kept a cooler head, but James Potter had never been known for having an even keel where Snivellus was concerned. Lily had the right of it when she yelled and called the Aurors. He was a monster, and the distinct lack of Sirius' grounding presence had resulted in an explosion of malicious accidental magic the likes of which he would probably never live down. He wasn't even sure the responding Auror and Unspeakable the Auror had to call would ever be able to rearrange Snivellus' unwashed limbs right way up ever again. Probably he would forever have a limp. Or worse. God. So many people had to be Obliviated.

Probably, he should be one of those people. He was sure now he was unsafe to be around... well, anyone, really... without Sirius there. And well Lily knew it. She had ringed her stuffy muggle sister and asked Petunia to pick her up.

Now, here James was, sitting on a curb in Whitehall, soaked to his pants after having gotten out of being carted off to Azkaban by the skin of his teeth, his wand confiscated pending the outcome of the Auror investigation on the disturbance. Because of course his Terrible Date Day wouldn't be complete if the heavens didn't break out in torrential downpours that stopped as soon as he was wetter behind the ears than a bedraggled stray kitten. Who the fuck gallivanted in the city during the fickle vagaries of London in spring? Idiots, that's who.

And James Potter was unassailably certain that there was no bigger prize idiot in all of Britain than he. How did Lily put it?

Ah, right. He wasn't just a "bullying, arrogant toerag" now. He'd graduated into an "ego monster of such epic proportions, Cthulhu itself would be unable to wrap its eldritch mind around your petty, small-minded jealousy."

And she was right, of course. He had been jealous. What else could he have been, but eaten at once by his envy of Lily's magnanimous, if cold, forgiveness of Snape, and that niggling feeling that seeing Snivellus' grotty dong dangling from the space where his beaky nose would be was utter hilarity Sirius would find absolute gold? Granted there were other, less palatable outcomes of his accidental magic. He had not intended for the nearby popcorn vendor's kettle to end up fused into Snape's hairy backside, which had protruded from the back of his neck so stubbornly, one arm wiggling out of his arsehole, the Unspeakable had to take the git in for further "corrective action"... Well, James had not intended for a lot of things to go the way it went today.

And now, he was alone, wandless, sopping wet, his fine robes muddy from the filthy streets, and that goddamn ring in his pocket burned a hole he would never crawl out of because he and Lily were over. Forever. And he didn't even feel terrible about it.

No, what was terrible, what was so unspeakably horrific was that Sirius wasn't even by his side to laugh it off.

Because it was funny, Merlin damn it all.

And he felt truly, for the first time since his Terrible Day had started, that he was a monster for thinking of having a laugh over the whole sordid affair with his best mate.

"Fuck this," he muttered, and reached into the pocket of his robe for the mirror that was to be his salvation. "Sirius?"

It was a mark of how remarkably in-tune Sirius was with his moods that he opened the mirror with a barely contained jubilant expression that quickly morphed into worry, perhaps even fear, as he took in James' disheveled, wet cat countenance. Sirius didn't even ask him whether it went well - the date or the proposal, though James supposed the doleful, sorry look he was sporting made it clear Lily Evans had just walked out on him and stomped all over his slightly-less-than-earnest pathetic little heart.

Could also be the fact that James bellowed an almighty sneeze that had the rain dripping down his hair splattering on the reflective surface bearing Sirius' handsome face. He wasn't sure whether he was going to laugh, cry, or fall ill from an inexplicable bout of dragon flu after freezing his bollocks on the pavement for the half hour it took to feel sufficiently like he was no longer going to go utterly hysterical with how this fucking day went.

"Where are you?" Sirius demanded, instantly alert and all business. James wanted to jump into the mirror and kiss him for not asking how he was or even what had happened for him to have ended up in a state so low, Slytherin's monster couldn't have reached him from the depths of the Chamber of Secrets.

"Whitehall," he sniffled, wiping what was certainly rain and not at all manly tears from his rain-fogged spectacles. Fuck, London in spring was cold and he was definitely coming down with something if the croak in his voice was anything to go by. "Outside the Ministry."

"Outside the - " Sirius cut himself off and nodded. "I'll be there. Wait for me."

"I'd Apparate to your flat, but they took my wand," he admitted with another heaving sigh.

"Merlin," Sirius said, shaking his head. "Right, well. It might be better for you to wait for me inside. London streets are busy even after nightfall, and I don't want you getting mugged."

"They can take the ring for all I care."

Sirius gave a slow blink and shook his head again. "Wait inside. I don't care if you want to be in the Ministry entrance hall or you want to freeze your bollocks in their bloody phone booth. I don't want you on the street. You look the perfect mark for pickpockets."

James let out a watery laugh. The passing muggles who had seen him had given him a wide berth. Likely, they thought he was a vagrant. "I don't think muggles really want to mug a man in a dress, Sirius. But sure, I'll wait."

He didn't say goodbye. Sirius had never been one for what he'd termed ridiculous social pleasantries, and James had never gotten into the habit of farewells. Not with Sirius. Never with Sirius.

Once again, he was reminded of how terse and final Lily's clipped "I hope we'll never see each other again" had been when she left him in the Ministry holding cell. He wanted to cry, but not for the reasons he was sure he was supposed to have after the love of his life had called off their epic romance. Mostly, he was just relieved Sirius was coming. Whether it was to side-along him to somewhere safe, preferably warm, and not at all on a dingy muggle street, or take him out for a ride on that hulking monstrosity of a motorcycle, James didn't care. Did people really tear up over relief? If it had never happened before in the history of wizardkind, he was damned sure it had to now, because his eyes had only started to prickle when he saw Sirius' bright grin transform into abject consternation. And he hadn't even told him he'd almost gotten a one-way ticket to Azkaban.

There was no point in dusting off the seat of his robes when he got up. They were ruined beyond belief. Rain and mud and not a small amount of blood from Snivellus' suddenly rearranged limbs had dyed the brilliant blue velvet a most unfetching brown, the fashionable cut of the robes warped and shrunken in response to the cold and damp. And the worst: his socks were wet.

He cast a hangdog look at the denizens of Whitehall at night and slunk into the telephone booth leading into the Ministry. James had never been one to loiter on the streets of London; the city and he didn't exactly mesh very well, what with its swell of muggle population, its streets that never seemed to sleep, and its skies bereft of stars at night. There was one reason alone he was ever even found in London and that was to visit his best mate's shitty Camden flat. Even then, he'd always Apparated into Sirius' front hall rather than be caught out on what was formerly a rookery in Victorian-era St. Giles.

Reflecting back on why he'd accepted to go to a fair at The Strand with Lily, he supposed there was a second reason, but that no longer counted. They were finished. Probably just as well, because James couldn't help leaking insane magic - not around her, but Snivellus was a good enough excuse.

Sirius was right about one thing: James Potter was not a creature made for London at night. Whitehall, with its veneer of civilized gentility, lost much of its shine after dark. The strangers that passed the booth now were no longer snappily dressed white-collar workers, and had transformed into flinty-eyed creatures that would not have looked out of place in Knockturn Alley. He wasn't so helpless that he couldn't have fought his way out of a brawl if someone accosted him, but then he wasn't looking to getting arrested by the muggle authorities on top of the stiff slap on the wrist the Ministry had just given him.

He debated dialing to get back into the entrance hall, but it galled him to have the night time clerk look at him askance, not in the state he was in. Merlin, that woman took tea with his father whenever he had business here!

He was still unsure what he wanted to do; his clothes were clinging uncomfortably to his clammy skin, and if he hadn't felt like he was going to start screaming and not stop since the Aurors dragged him into the holding cell, he was certainly feeling that now. He had never been given to panic, but after the day he'd had, the way his knees knocked from the cold, and the abject misery of just Everything At Once, he was reasonably certain that a kind of partial madness was not inconceivable in his state.

Therefore, when someone knocked on the glass panel wall of the phone booth, he jerked and might have screeched like a child had he not caught sight of the cool gray of Sirius' eyes reflected in the lamplight outside.

James slammed the booth door open and once more felt the uncomfortable onslaught of tears as Sirius held a wadded pile of fabric out to him.

"Thought you might need these," Sirius said as James unfolded a set of robes, shirt, trousers, socks and, yes, Sirius' favorite snitch-printed pants still smelling faintly of laundry soap. "I've cast the Notice-Me-Not, so strip before you catch your death. And give me your shoes. I'll dry them."

There was something queer about stripping off to one's birthday suit in the middle of a well-lit London street even though logically, James knew that there was no one else to see his junk half shriveled into his crotch from the cold. He nearly moaned with relief once he was dressed in his best friend's neatly pressed, borrowed clothes.

"God, that feels heavenly," he muttered as he slid his socked feet into his once-more snug and not at all sloshy Oxfords. "I didn't know you still owned robes."

Sirius cocked a haughty brow, one corner of his beautiful mouth ticking up in a half-smile that would have made angels weep. "You're wearing the only one. This, mate, is what I'm meant to be buried in."

"Fuck off with that," James said. He didn't care for Sirius' flippant jests about funerary garb. Not with the times they lived in. "You're not going to ask?"

Sirius watched him for a moment, his face shrouded in shadow. "I figured there's time enough to talk." He gestured to his bike. Of course he flew here. "Come on. Let's blow this pop stand."

#prongsfoot #bambibelle #my writing #my fanfic stuff

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dinoplantsghost · 6 months ago

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pairing: Tom Riddle x fem! original character

warning(s): tom is a warning in itself, 1940s: time accurate misogyny (???) and r@c!sm, canon-compliant prejudice & name-calling, teenage behavior (boys smh), language (swearing), mentions of murder & death

word count: ~4303

Disclaimer: I have a huge google doc that holds all of my drafts and I'm quite literally just copypasting everything, so if there are any typos/errors, no there isn't!! :)

-- I hope yall can see that I don't know how to name chapters lol

Chapter List

Planning Ahead [2]

“Who is that, when did we get a new student?”

“Her hair is an absolute disaster! Do you think she’s a metamorphmagus?”

“What an awful time to transfer; does she even know any English?“

The whispers and stares grew stronger as the 5’6" girl walked through the large doors to the Great Hall, making her way to the long table in navy blue and bronze. Saoirse continued to ignore the comments and side-eyes and sat down at the very edge of the table, pulled out a thick book from her satchel and began reading in typical Ravenclaw fashion.

At the next few tables over, a group of boys huddled amongst themselves. Out of the eight of them, they always surrounded one boy, without fail. He was the automatic leader of the group, the one they would turn to when in need, the one they were loyal to. He had them wrapped around his finger so effortlessly, and it disappointed him to see young men of such high status to be so dumb.

“When are you going to make your move, Eloise,” Asked Cassius Mulciber, the sixth year of the group. “If you’re not going to do anything, I might just take her for myself.”

Eloise Avery scoffed. “If you think you have a chance against me,” he laughed, gesturing to himself. “You must have gone mental.”

To the right of Eloise, Louis Rosier chimed in, mindlessly twirling his hair of honey into a braid. “I think you should totally try, ‘Cass,” he finished the braid with a tap of his wand, the ends of his hairs sticking together. “It wouldn’t hurt to.”

Cassius reached across the table to give Louis a high-five, his wide build blocking the light from Patrick Nott, a fifth year of Austrian descent and the thinnest of the bunch. Irritated, Patrick placed his bookmark in the book he was reading, closed it, and slammed it repeatedly against Cassius’ left upper arm. “You. Bloody. Git!” He huffed, pushing his frames further up his nose bridge. “For the love of Merlin, sit down!”

Cassius whipped his head around to the boy, his black and unkempt hair hitting the side of his face. Before he could get a word out, though, Headmaster Dippet stood up, projecting his voice with Sonorus. “Good morning, students. Today is the start of a new week, and with that being said, I would like to remind you all that playing Exploding Snap in the lavatories will result in a month’s worth of detention.” Laughter echoed throughout the Great Hall. “And before I finish this morning’s announcements, I would like to welcome our new student, Saoirse!”

Dippet pointed his hand to the girl, who still had her head hanging low as she scanned the contents of Hogwarts: A History, unaware of the eyes staring at her. “Well,” the Headmaster coughed. “It seems like she is working very diligently to catch up to her peers. This is the perfect example of what your work ethic should look like, everyone. Now, pip pip!” Clapping his hands, he sat back down, quick to use Quietus to avoid any mishaps.

Saoirse was finally pulled from her reading daze when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Looking up, she found a small man with elfish ears and crazed, white hair standing up in every direction. His eyes were kind and his smile was light. She could tell that he was a very genuine person. “Good morning, sir,” She smiled.

“Good morning, my dear girl! My name is Linnaeus Flitwick and I am your Head of House. I’m here to give you your schedule.” He handed her a slip of paper before continuing, “Classes start soon, so be sure to leave the Great Hall soon so you’re in class on time, alright?”

Saoirse nodded, skimming through the piece of paper that was given to her. “Thank you, sir.”

With her eyes falling on the schedule for Monday, she quickly found that she had Care of Magical Creatures first thing in the morning. She sighed, knowing that Riddle never gave her a tour of the outside campus, and threw her large book into her satchel, eating a couple pieces of fruit before leaving the Great Hall. As she left, the group of boys eyed each other.

“I think we should have a bet,” said Cassius, shoving a piece of his fried egg into his mouth. “Whoever beds the new girl first gets five Galleons.”

A boy with tan skin chuckled as he buttered the last of his bread. “You lot are ridiculous; there’s no way she’s going to fall for it.”

“You’re just scared that you’ll lose, Lestrange.” Said Rosier.

“No, I could totally win against you idiots, but I have better things to do.”

“Excuses, excuses.” Cassius laughed, waving a hand in the air. “What about the rest of you,” he asked, turning to the right to look at the other young men sitting at the table. “Do you want in on this glorious bet or are you too chicken to do so?”

Abraxas Malfoy ran a hand over his pale face. “Absolutely not,” he sighed. “Father expects me to court and wed Torsia Adlard, remember? If I get caught with another girl, that blows any chances of me getting with Adlard.”

Orion Black, who was sitting next to the platinum blond boy, hummed in agreement. “She doesn’t seem pure-blooded either,” he mumbled. “It would be devastating if one of you were to shag a Mudblood.”

A chorus of acknowledgement rang throughout the table. “When you put it that way, I’ll pull out of the bet then.” Cassius hissed, running a hand through his ink hair.

Miles Lestrange raised his eyebrows, putting down his goblet of pumpkin juice. “Oh? But you were the one who considered the bet in the first place.”

“Well that was before I thought about her blood status, Miles. If you think I'm still going through with it then you’re bloody crazy.”

“I don’t care what she is, I’m going to get those five Galleons whether you like it or not.” Avery chimed in, earning a side eye from anyone who heard.

“That’s just gross, Eloise,” Rosier whispered, sounding so disappointed and dejected, placing a hand on the strawberry blond’s shoulder. “Don’t do that to yourself, mate, five Galleons isn’t worth it.”

“That insolent girl is not even worth a Knut.” Muttered the boy with ebony hair, situated in the middle of the posse. He closed his book looking upon the boys that stared back at him in anticipation, drinking up his words like it was their Ambrosia. “That idiot of a Headmaster asked me to give her a small tour of the school after Astronomy,” he explained. “She’s nothing but an obnoxious broad and she is not worth anything, especially to the likes of us.”

Tom stood up and walked off to his first class, leaving the rest of the boys to themselves.

┌────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┐

From a distance, a tall boy trotted down the courtyard, making his way to the first class of the day. Running a hand through locs of wavy, blond hair, his eyes fell on the apparent color of cerulean that stuck out from the green of dying leaves. He sighed, sucking the side of his cheek in contemplation before rolling his eyes and making his way to the lost foreigner.

He could not understand why Avery, Rosier, and Mulciber had such an interest in her—before Orion had pointed out her unknown blood status. It seemed to him that she was nothing but an airhead, especially after what Riddle had said back in the Great Hall. So much for being in Ravenclaw considering her race, he thought.

“Did you not see the map of the courtyard in that book of yours?” He asked, his velvety voice of dark chocolate enveloping the girl’s entire being as it seeped into her ears and flowed down her spine.

Abraxas Malfoy watched through the permanent scowl on his face as Saoirse turned around to see his aristocratic figure tower over her as his eyes of muted eucalyptus stared into her. “No, I didn’t get the time to,” she muttered. A scoff bubbled in his throat at her timidness. “Do you happen to have Care of Magical Creatures as your first class as well?”

Sighing once again, now knowing he had his first class with this girl, the fifteen year old boy nodded. Abraxas reluctantly pulled his right hand off from its place on top of his satchel—while using his left hand to grasp the strap—to point off in the distance to the right. Saoirse’s gaze followed his deathly pale finger and there sat a rickety fence made of dark wood. “Class is held near the outskirts of the Dark Forest, taught by Professor Thelma. You’re welcome.”

Deciding to not entertain the girl any further, Abraxas walked off, shifting his hands to the way they were prior; his right hand fell back to its snug position on top of his satchel as his left went back to his cloak pocket. The blond continued to walk the way, ignoring how the girl he left behind painfully tried to catch up with his long strides. When he made it to the fence, Abraxas opened the wooden barrier and did not care enough to leave it open, letting it close on its own before the Asian girl could catch up and slide through as the latch accidentally jumped up and locked the fence.

“Good morning class! Today we will be continuing our lesson on the Unicorn,” a nasally and feminine voice rang in the ears of the students standing around near the fence. “Luckily, I was able to talk to an old friend of mine who’s a Magizoologist and convinced her to let us see Unicorns up close.”

Elsie Thelma, professor of the Care of Magical Creatures class, was a small woman. So small, in fact, one could mistake her for a half-goblin. The round woman had fiery red hair flaring out of her tall witch’s hat with crooked frames barely balancing on her nose bridge. Her eyes held the curiosity of a thousand children, sparkling with the blue of the ocean crashing against the rocks.

With the wave of her hand, Professor Thelma guided the crowd of children away from the rickety picket fence and deeper into the lush green forest, magic intertwined within the roots, leaves and meer fibers of every plant and fungi and budding fruit.

Abraxas was never one for the outdoors, despite having the Quidditch position of chaser on the Slytherin team. Though, he thought, one was rarely on the ground when it came to Quidditch. He huffed, discreetly dragging the top of his tailored Oxford shoe against some rough bark to scrape off the discolored mud and wincing as he thought about the multitude of scratch marks damaging the leather.

“Alright class, I advise you all to be very quiet and still,” Thelma instructed. “As any sort of fast movement or abrupt sounds can set them off. For this portion of the lesson we will be pairing up into groups of four, all while having two subunits within each. One unit will write down observations, preferably the boys, while the girls interact with the unicorn to identify its unique behaviors .”

Professor Thelma’s voice rang in the blond boy’s ears, making him lift his head, walking away from the tree as he came up close to the rest of his peers.

The short professor stood in front of the students, looking at each and every one of them carefully. After a few moments of silence, the lady hand-picked the students to group up and start their observations on their assigned Unicorns that stood proudly in the clearing ahead.

“And with this group,” Thelma said softly. “You will have the new student—Saoirse. Malfoy, I trust that you inform the girl of our prior knowledge as she wasn’t present for the first portion of this lesson.”

“Oh, there’s no need to, professor. I’ve read about Unicorns before,” a soft voice chimed in, alarming Abraxas as he whipped around to stare dubiously at the girl with jade eyes. “I wouldn’t want the group to fall behind from the rest.”

“Brilliant then! Go on then, get to work, children.” Thelma smiled, shooing the group of 5 away to the last horse that fed on the grass by its lonesome.

The group stood around awkwardly, unable to shake off a creeped out feeling as the new girl stared at them expectantly. One of them, a Griffyndor boy, coughed into his fist. “Erm, are you sure you know enough about Unicorns? I’m sure you’ve never seen a Unicorn before in your life.”

Saoirse shrugged, smiling weirdly at the boy. “We’ll see.”

┌────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┐

Turns out, Saoirse was well informed. However, things turned south when the girl tried to walk up to the horned horse. The Unicorn turned tense, its ears flicking in her direction as it stared into her soul. With some encouragement from the others in the group, Saoirse tried to show an open palm, but that only aggravated the Unicorn more. Eventually, they settled to switch roles between Saoirse and Abraxas.

“Why did you transfer to Hogwarts, especially when we’re in the middle of our first term?” A girl asked, the yellow in her robes catching in Saoirse’s eyes.

“I was expelled,” she said, shaking off a salamander from her shoe. “The High Priestess was more than welcome to kick me out; she always disliked me.”

“Expelled,” echoed the other Ravenclaw in the group. Saoirse never bothered asking for their names. “What did you do?”

She held her tongue; she obviously couldn’t say she accidentally killed someone. She was starting to really like Hogwarts, so it would be sad to leave so soon. “I was experimenting,” Saoirse evaded. “An accident happened and it ruined my dorm. By ruining school property, along with other instances prior, the High Priestess was more than ready to expel me sooner or later.”

Abraxas, who was standing brushing the hairs from the Unicorn’s eye, frowned. It didn’t really make sense for her to transfer all the way to Scotland, especially since Mahoutokoro was in the far east of Japan. If anything, the closest school she could have gone to was in Uganda, Uagadou. Of course, there were other minor institutions, but it wasn’t likely for the girl to have transferred to any of those as they were very selective and couldn’t afford to have a student with a bad transcript in their student body.

Perhaps she had connections, he thought. Scotland is far from Japan or east Asia in general, and the only sensible reason for her to be here is that she knows someone in the area.

“What is that over there?” Saoirse asked, pointing off to the distant trees. There was an open area, the grass and other vegetation stomped flat by whatever creatures lived in the forest. Looking over with disinterest, Abraxas saw a horse-like figure, its large leathery wings flexing as its odd snout sniffed the ground.

“There’s nothing there.” Said the Hufflepuff girl, the other students in the group voicing their agreement.

“No, really, there’s a horse there—or, well, it’s not really a horse; it’s—”

“It’s a Thestral,” Abraxas said, gaining the attention of the group. “They carry the carriages for the upper years. Only people who have witnessed death can see them.”

“A Thestral,” frowned the other Ravenclaw student. “We learned about those in Divination class; they’re really bad omens.”

Now worried, the Hufflepuff girl and the Gryffindor student backed away. They suggested walking back to the fence, as class was almost over anyways. “Of course you would be able to see Thestrals, Malfoy,” muttered the Gryffindor. “I bet you and your family bond quite well over killing those who aren’t like you, huh?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Abraxas protested, getting hot in the face as he strided up to the student in red. “You stupid, bloody Gryffindors love causing trouble; you must be a Mudblood if you’re that passionate about less people dying.”

“That’s incredibly insensitive of you,” the Ravenclaw student huffed. “It shouldn’t matter if they weren’t pureblooded, they were still people.” Abraxas furrowed his brows, his upper lip lifting at the corner as he looked at the boy in disgust. To Saoirse, it was the most emotion she had seen from the boy with platinum blond hair. “You’re not even a good Ravenclaw, you know that? For being the house of intelligence, you’re bloody daft; Thestrals are anything but bad omens—quite curious creatures, actually.”

“We shouldn’t be fighting, guys,” fretted the Hufflepuff. “Let’s get back to the rest of the class. We’re bothering the Unicorn.”

Abraxas bit his tongue, his nose flaring as he glared at the girl, who flinched in return. Running a hand through his hair, he kicked up the dirt, offending both boys as he walked off without another word.

┌────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┐

“And they were just complaining—it was so bloody annoying; I wish I could have hexed them.”

“I would have as well. That Kowalski kid always wants to start something with you. Maybe he fancies you,” Joked Lestrange, earning a rough push on his shoulder by Abraxas.

“Don’t joke about that, I would end my life if that were the case.” He shuddered. He couldn’t imagine a half-blood like Kowalski pining over him—though many people did.

The two boys, along with the rest of the Slytherin posse, were waiting for their bi-weekly meeting to start. They sat around in a spacious room, chandelier dangling above them as they sat around at a round table.

When they first started these meetings, they were skeptical. Their leader, Tom, was odd. Despite being a Slytherin, his surname wasn’t well known in the Wizarding community. Everyone knew everyone in Slytherin, mainly consisting of high-class pureblood families and being a generally tight-knit House. They didn’t really tolerate any other House, they were often outcasted or rejected��from Gryffindor, mainly; Hufflepuffs had some good ones who were willing to look past the snake house’s collective problems, and Ravenclaw had students with similar world views.

They had every reason to dislike Muggleborns; Muggles had been killing and burning their ancestors for years, and it felt like a dishonor to those who died at the hands of evil. Unfortunately, over the years Muggleborns had been accepted, along with those with mixed blood, which was also a disgrace. The culture was slowly fading away—the holidays, beliefs, it was all being replaced by things that had no place in a magical institution. What even was Christmas? Who the Hell was Jesus Christ?

The group was given a promise, though. The promise to bring back their culture, to avenge their ancestors as they rid the world of Muggleborns and Halfbloods alike. Tom was sure to get them there. Time and time again he had proved to them he was worthy of being in Slytherin, despite their initial doubts. Their loyalty was set in stone once his lineage was discovered—their first assignment as the Knights of Walpurgis. He was a wonderful leader, always uplifting them and reminding them of their goals, of the right they had to take back what was once theirs. He stirred their ambitions, bringing out what made them Slytherins. Salazar was sure to be proud of his only heir.

“Apologies for the wait,” Tom said, closing the large door that phased away into the wall. “Black’s cousin stopped me in the middle of the common room.”

“Please don’t remind me of her, my Lord,” Orion blushed, gritting his teeth as the other boys’ guffaws reverberated in the large room. “I really don’t know why she’s like that.”

“No matter, let us start the meeting; we have much to discuss.”

Ever since the group learned of Tom’s well respected ancestor, their main objective was to find the Chamber of Secrets. Unfortunately for them, the only person who would be able to find the room at all was Tom; only Salazer Slytherin’s descendants could open the Chamber.

“I wasn’t able to find anything in the Library, my Lord,” Patrick said, his leg bouncing against the tile. “It’s like the staff erased all traces of Salazar Slytherin from the castle.”

Miles nodded in agreement. “I had the same trouble as well. My mother owled me back and she said she’s never heard of any writings or stories of the Chamber of Secrets from anyone she knows—and she knows many people.”

Tom bit the inside of his cheek. It was to be expected that they would end up in a dead end, but it was still frustrating. He was so close to finding out who he was, what he was meant for. His ancestor had helped build this school from the ground up and the impudent staff they were to respect could not even hold any amount of that towards one of Hogwarts’ founders. He knew he was meant to get to the Chamber; Salazar wouldn’t have created a beast just for it to rot down there with no way of unearthing it.

“This may be a stretch, but,” Abraxas chimed in, the hairs on the back of his head standing up on its ends as Tom snapped his eyes towards him. “That new girl, Saoirse, she might know something.”

Cassius huffed in amusement. “I knew you were interested in her.”

Eloise slammed a hand on the table, much to Tom’s irritation, gawking at his blond friend. “You talked to her,” he asked, leaning over the table. “Did you throw me into the conversation? Please, mate, it’s been so long since I’ve had—”

“No one here cares about your stupid sexual escapades,” Abraxas glared. “And no, you didn’t cross my mind once. During first period, Saoirse said she transferred to Hogwarts because she was expelled. She didn’t go into detail, but considering the fact she also revealed she can see thestrals, I doubt she was expelled for anything stupid like a prank gone wrong. I reckon she killed someone.”

Murmurs rang throughout the room. “And why would you suggest that,” mused Tom, the frown on his face more apparent than ever. “If anything, something probably happened when she was younger; you cannot just assume she killed someone because she can see thestrals.”

“That’s what I thought at first, but the more I think about it, she had no clue what a Thestral was until today—like she’s never seen one before.”

“So what, Hogwarts has stooped so low that they just allow anyone into the school—including murderers? You can’t be serious, ‘Brax. They would have known that looking at her transcript.” Louis stressed.

Mulciber shrugged, swirling a finger around the rim of his goblet, presumably filled with some kind of alcohol. “‘Dunno, Rose, peacock guy might have a point,” he said, ignoring the offended look Abraxas gave him.

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“And I said I would stop when your white chickens finally die, Malfoy.”

Tom supposed the theory Abraxas had was sensible, but he doubted the girl knew anything about the four founders. She was reading Hogwarts: A History this morning, for Merlin’s sake. ‘However,’ he thought back to the night before, the moment when he showed Saoirse the door to Merrythought’s classroom.

Perhaps Abraxas had a point. If no one could get into the Chamber, then it may have something to do with Dark Magic; anything was plausible at this point and quite frankly, no matter how much it irked him to admit, Tom was desperate. “How do you suggest we get the girl to reveal this information to us? While she did mention Dark Magic during our conversation last night, she was too ditzy to keep a consistent word with.” He clicked his tongue at the mere thought of her insistent ramblings.

Eloise snapped his fingers. “Then we get her to join the Knights of Walpurgis, or at the very least into our friend group. It hits all of our problems quite well, doesn’t it? It’s all the more reason for me to get close and bed her,” he smirked.

“You need to stop thinking with your crotch, Avery, but I agree.” Cassius smiled, stretching his legs on his chair. “I would love to have a pretty girl with us.”

Louis frowned, the grip on his goblet tightening unconsciously. “You’d really want to have her in the group just because she’s a girl?”

“No, I’d like to have her here because she’s a pretty girl, Rose. We all know there aren’t many pretty purebloods here by our standards, and if this Saoirse girl isn’t a pureblood then at least we’ll have a simple pretty face in our midst.”

Louis sighed. “Oh, okay.”

“What do we do with her after, once we get whatever information we need?” Miles asked, seeming to be the only person besides their Leader to have a functioning brain.

“What if we kill her after?” Patrick suggested coolly, halting the side conversations. He turned to Tom, who was more than eager to hear something he was comfortable with. “My Lord, you mentioned a few meetings before that you were looking into those things; what were they called—Horcruxes? I found whatever I could in the Restricted Section, as I’m sure you have as well, and in order to make a Horcrux, you must provide a sacrifice; you must consciously and willingly take a life without remorse in order to blight your soul and split it.”

“I am still not convinced she has the knowledge we need to get into the Chamber of Secrets,” Tom sighed. “But this might have to do for now. However, the moment I see anyone slacking off, or that this girl is not providing us useful information, I kill her. Is that understood?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Credit(s): Dividing banner (^^^) by Chen Lu (1436-1449) - "Plum Blossoms in Moonlight" scroll painting; sourced through Pinterest

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #fanfiction #fanfic #original character #1940s #decade: 1940s #cw: swearing

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sapphicwhxre · 4 years ago

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behind closed doors

♡ pairing: harry potter x reader x ginny weasley

♡ summary: ginny wants to add a third person to her sex life with harry and you make them both glad he said yes.

♡ requested: yes | no

♡ warnings: oh my god it's FILTH ─ swearing, threesome smut, oral sex (female & male receiving), face fucking, fingering, vaginal sex, praise/possession kink, scissoring, overstimulation, nipple play/praise, cum slut stuff but i got no clue what to tag that as. also i didn’t proofread or edit because if i reread any of this shit i know it won’t get posted LMAO

it was funny, really.

everyone thought the chosen one was this awkward, inexperienced git when it came to sex. and they all thought the youngest and only girl of the weasleys must be this pure little princess. but, they were oh so wrong and you knew that first hand.

you knew because harry was almost at his breaking point. he didn’t think there was anything as precious or plain sexy as ginevra weasley but merlin, did she have some odd kinks. he’d do them all for her, even enjoyed some of them. but this one had harry redder than dragon breath.

“ginny, i don’t want another guy with his hands on you when we’re being intimate!”

finally snapping, harry was flushed and frustrated. it was the second time ginny had brought up the possibility of bringing another person into their bedroom and harry did not see the appeal. the weasley girl perked an eyebrow, however, and laughed.

“who said anything about a guy, dear?” ginny toyed with a charm on the bracelet you’d given her and shook her head. “you know my friend, y/n, don’t you?”

the boy’s eyes widened behind his glasses and his mouth went a bit dry. “yes,” was all he managed, trying to remember what house you were even in. what he did remember was that you were quite the sight to look at.

ginny grabbed harry's hand, “we had a bit of a thing before you and i. she’s a fun person, she’d do it without any strings attached.”

how had harry had no idea that his girlfriend had been sleeping with y/n? and why did the idea of letting her into the equation arouse him so much? although surprised that ginny felt absolutely no jealousy or even batted an eye at the situation, he found himself grinning when ginny did at his sudden nod.

this was how you’d ended up with harry potter’s cock buried in your pussy while your face was in ginny’s. and right now, it wasn’t very funny at all. what it was fell under the category of fucking like heaven.

“oh, good girl, just like that, y/n!”

ginny moaned with her head thrown back. her eyes were rolling back into her head with every moan she heard from her boyfriend paired with the warm vibrations of yours meeting her pussy. “look so pretty, taking harry’s cock for us,” you responded to her dirty praise by a finger into her dripping cunt, your tongue still assaulting her folds and your ass in the air. she moaned even louder and barely made eye contact with harry, who was still thrusting into your clenching walls. “so good, y/n... blimey, gin, she’s so tight,”

“and ours,” the panting girl added, her hands now gripping your hair messily. “our pretty little slut, in’t that right, harry?” he agreed with a rather distracted grunt but ginny was too occupied to respond, screaming as you put your fingers as deep into her as you could, curling and pumping while your tongue kept adoring her clit. “oh, y/n, y/n, y/n,” it was impossible at this point to tell whose moans were whose and who was saying your name louder, but either way it was addicting.

“f-fuck!” you babbled incoherently, harry and ginny's names both getting lost on the way out of your mouth. harry burst into you with a final, shallow thrust, moaning like a porn star. your orgasm clenched your stomach and your walls tightened around harry’s dick while you came, the white liquid seeping out into ginny’s view. your breathy moan was hot on ginny’s throbbing pink pussy and the sight made her want to come, hard. you took your fingers away and instantly replaced them with your tongue. gripping her thighs tightly, you let all of her sweet cum enter your mouth and drip down your chin eagerly.

“oh, that’s a good girl,” ginny was breathing fast and giving both of you a toothy grin ─ one which you and harry returned. “how hot does she look, harry?”

“so hot,” harry gasped, forehead sweaty and cheeks flushed red. “so hot covered in our cum, she knows that, doesn’t she?”

nodding and flustered, you tried to gather yourself after being fucked and fucking ginny at the same time but you were flipped onto your back. a loud yelp caught both ginny and harry and they both wore different smirks on their face. harry's said he was nothing short of loving the experience and ginny was thinking of ways to make it better for the former... and herself.

“open,” she commanded, biting her bottom lip with the cockiest look on her face. without any hesitation, you spread your legs as wide as you could to let ginny do whatever she wanted with you. “good little girl, you’ll be rewarded,” she hummed and you were desperate to be touched again. “but first ‘m gonna let harry have a bit more fun, show him just how good you are with that pretty mouth.”

the messy haired boy was already pumping up and down his shaft, tip as pink as his cheeks. “open?” harry’s request was softer but in some way, just as sexy as ginny’s. you parted your lips just enough to take his tip between them and sucked softly, eyes intent on harry while you did so. his were already scrunched in need and you made your way down, cum covered lips and saliva wetting his dick for you to suck him better. with hollowed cheeks, you bobbed up and down on his length, feeling more and more satisfied with his bucks hitting your throat. even gagging on his cock and nose hitting right above where he was slapping against his own skin, you moaned and sucked until ginny spit on your cunt.

“oh,” you let out muffled on harry. no longer watching you two, ginny was lowering her own pussy onto yours and the heat of both your aroused cunts felt heavenly. you whimpered with your lips around harry, tears streaming down your face, hoping to be touched by ginny. your wish was granted as you moaned muffled again and she sank onto you, using your thigh to ride your pussy. clits rubbing against one another with deliciously rough friction, cock all the way into your mouth, you saw stars. it didn’t even matter whose cum was dripping down your leg when the pleasure you felt was so mindblowing and harry was spilling his seed down your throat. “good little cum slut,” ginny rubbed your clit harshly.

“ginny, this is so good,” you groaned, on the verge of a sob, “but ‘m too sensitive, just let me please you guys,”

as if you’d told a funny joke, she laughed and turned to harry. “your turn baby, i want that pretty, pretty mouth back between my legs now that she’s all swollen and sexy,”

“poor thing,” harry chuckled at your scream when he attached his mouth to your soaked and abused pussy. his hands yanked you by the ass and he ate you out like you were a fucking pumpkin pasty. ginny lowered to sit this time on your mouth, facing harry’s buried head. whimpering almost pitifully, though extremely sexy to the couple you were pleasing, your tongue took messy movements to ginny’s pussy.

she was so wet that it didn't matter how out of it the sensations had you, your open mouth on her core was enough to have ginny spitting moan after moan. “cum now, y/n, i know you’ve got another one left in you,” harry cooed. you couldn’t even object with your mouth so preoccupied and all coherent thoughts being smashed by harry’s tongue fucking your hole. “that's it,” his teeth grazed you while you came and your sob on ginny’s pussy sent her to the very edge of her orgasm.

right then and there, she could have orgasmed all over your flushed face but she held on and took her pale fingers to your breasts. “i think she’s got one more in her harry, fuck her one more time,” she purred, hips bucking on your lips. the strangled moan you exhaled made harry beam while he prepared to enter you again. “you love it, don't you?” your mouth tasting between ginny’s slick folds wouldn’t let you scream his name, but you desperately wanted to when harry pushed all of his inches into you. “being just a pretty cum slut?”

in only a minute, ginny’s release washed over your face and flooded your senses. all you tasted was the last ginny had before she collpased beside you, panting heavily. she watched as harry kept fucking you like you were theirs. “pretty tits bouncing, shame we didn't give ‘em too much attention,” she chirped. your teary eyes widened, you weren’t sure if you could take ginny touching your breasts on top of harry pounding into you. but you desperately wanted to.

it must have showed in your eyes, or admittedly, in ginny’s desire because she wrapped her lips around one of your nipples and pinched the other one before switching to soft flicking. “so tasty,” she alternated, praising both your tits with her skilled fingers and warm mouth. about to coax you into your orgasm, you finished loudly and harry let himself release the second that you did. pulling out, he found his way next to ginny and wrapped his hands around her waist while she focused on your tits, tired yet euphoric. “aren’t they perfect?” ginny hummed contently and released them, and harry stroked your hair and ginny's.

“y’know, perfect’s just one word i’d use for this.”

the lovely filth of having the wild versions of harry potter and ginny weasley all to yourself were some of your best nights, you often thought. though you supposed deep down that they were the ones who had you to themselves, you didn’t care. what mattered much more was that you ─ and certainly ginny and harry ─ were quite glad that you were their good, little slut.

─────♡

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theweasleysredhair · 4 years ago

Text

An Exhibition of Muggle Duelling [G.W.]

Character: George Weasley

Word Count: 2042

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Angry George is hot. He’s even hotter when he’s fighting. Based on that scene - you know the one - in Order of the Phoenix.

Tags: @gracemayhateyou @criminalyetminimal @angelinathebook @iprobablyshipit91 @potterverseimagine @slytherineheir @kpopgirlbtssvt @rexorangecouny @mytreec @hemmoporro @thisismysketchbook @acciotwinz @shadowsinger11 @aaannabbanana @lestersglitterglue @anyasthoughts @lxncelot @harrypotter289 @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @valwritesx @hufflrpuffforfred @cappsikle @kiwi-sloan @potter-redheads @pigwidgexn @twinkyjohnson @sarcasticallywitty15 @tyyyweasley @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @wonderful-writer @marauders-loving-queen @vogueweasley @marvelettesassemble @thisismynerdyself @gcdric @loony-loopy-lupinn @gloryekaterina @tinylumpiaa @locke-writes @wand3ringr0s3 @ickle-ronniekins @sehunasbitch @cryingforcrystalpepsi @kashishwrites @girl-next-door-writes @susceptible-but-siriusexual @crissdanvers @whiz-bangs78 @oh-for-merlins-sake @heavenlymidnight @aylinw3asley @vivianweasley @andineversawyoucoming @nkjktk | message or send an ask to be removed! unfortunately, my taglist is closed until further notice due to hitting the max. amount allowed on one post!

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: shoutout to kaylah ( @pit-and-the-pen ) for finding the pages that the fight scene takes place and sending them to me - literal angel, thank you sm my love!! ❤️ also the ending isn’t great, i had a breakdown trying to figure out what to write, but hope you guys like it anyway 😂

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

Gryffindor had won.

It was supposed to be a happy occasion, despite the song Malfoy had gotten many of the Slytherin students to sing, but as you ran down the steps from the stand and onto the pitch, followed closely by Hermione, you realised something was wrong, Malfoy’s laughter being the most prominent sound.

You approached the Gryffindor team, wanting to make sure Harry was okay after the fall he took at the end of the game, though seeing Katie and Alicia hugging him assured you he would be fine.

“But we couldn’t find rhymes for fat and ugly - we wanted to sing about his mother, see. We couldn’t fit in useless loser either - for his father, you know-“ you heard Malfoy jeer.

“You’d know all about being a useless loser, wouldn’t you Malfoy?” You spoke out, arriving by George’s side as his arm automatically moved to slide around your waist, his head turning in Malfoy’s direction, jaw clenching as he realised what he was talking about.

“Leave it,” Angelina looked towards you and the twins, particularly Fred who had taken a step in Malfoy’s direction, “Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he’s just sore he lost, the jumped-up little-“

Malfoy smirked in yours and Harry’s direction, a nasty look on his face as he sneered, “But you like the Weasleys, don’t you Potter? And you, L/n.”

He spat out your surname with a grimace. You felt George trying to move and gripped his wrist, running your thumb softly over his skin. He swallowed, hands curling into fists as he glared at the blonde boy.

“Spend holidays there and everything, don’t you?” Malfoy continued, laughing with his usual sidekicks, enjoying the way he was winding you all up, “Can’t see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you’ve been dragged up by muggles even the Weasley’s hovel smells okay-“

George suddenly lunged forward out of your reach, his name leaving your lips just as Harry caught his arm, pulling him back and holding onto him, trying to prevent him from pouncing on the blonde.

Angelina and Alicia were holding Fred back, helped by Katie who had a grip on his shirt and one of his shoulders, though he was still struggling to get away from them, pulling them forward as they dragged him back.

Malfoy laughed again, the sound piercing your ears and making you scowl, “Or perhaps you can remember what your mother’s house stank like, Potter, and Weasley’s pigsty reminds you of it. And don’t get me started on you, L/n. The fact you’d even allow a Weasley to touch you-“

“You git-“ you yelled, moving to grab your wand. But before you could even throw a hex at him, Hermione grabbed your waist, keeping you back as you realised Harry had let go of George, and they were both now on top of the blonde boy, having shoved him down into the mud, throwing punch after punch. You stopped struggling as much as you watched the scene unfold before you.

“Harry! Harry!! George!! No!”

The Gryffindor chasers yelled out their names, but couldn’t do much more as they were still holding Fred back, who was still trying to get to Malfoy.

You held your wand loosely but couldn’t bring yourself to use it, watching as your boyfriend’s fist collided with Malfoy’s nose, his muscles straining and abs prominent as his Quidditch shirt rode up, showing off his toned back as he threw more punches, easily blocking Malfoy’s weak attempts at fighting back. He was swearing at the Slytherin boy, angry growls escaping his lips and you felt your mouth drop a little.

Swallowing, you couldn’t pull your eyes away from the scene, George’s ginger locks sticking to his forehead with sweat, both from the previous game and from fighting, a snarl on his face as he continued his attack.

You’d never seen him like this, so aggressive, so in control of his actual movements yet not his emotions as he allowed his anger to fuel him, his eyebrows furrowed, clenched fists accentuating the veins in his lower arms as he landed punch after punch, before suddenly Madam Hooch was yelling out, and he was hit by a spell, one that paused his actions - or rather, slowed them down.

Harry jumped to his feet, as the Quidditch coach yelled out, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Malfoy lay on the floor, curled in a ball however you could see his nose was bloody. Fred was still struggling to escape the grasp of the chasers. And George, his lip was swollen and he was breathing heavily, but otherwise he seemed okay, for which you were thankful.

He pulled his shirt back into place angrily, a string of curses being muttered under his breath. His hands were still pulled into fists, his biceps clenching under the jersey, his jaw tensing, before he and Harry headed up to the castle without another word, practically marching away angrily towards McGonagall’s office, under Madam Hooch’s orders.

Fred pulled himself away from the chasers, though he was careful not to hurt them, and they hesitantly released their grips, ready to pull him back again if he attempted to finish what his twin and Harry had started. He scowled as he turned towards the changing rooms, grabbing his broom and heading off.

Hermione let go of your waist and you stomped after Fred, who was grumbling under his breath, and though he nodded at you in reassurance he was okay, you knew the twins and anger didn’t usually end too well.

***

No one seemed to want to celebrate Gryffindor’s win after the match. In fact, you were sat in the common room completely alone, waiting for your boyfriend (and Harry) to come back from being reprimanded by McGonagall. Fred had sullenly stomped to his room a while ago without a word, simply kicking the wall beside the stairs in anger as he passed by it.

Even Angelina - who you’d expected to have been happy by her first win as a new Captain - had retired to her own dorm room with a frown, along with Alicia and Katie.

The common room felt odd, being so quiet, but you appreciated the calm. That was, until the portrait door slammed open and two familiar - angry - faces stormed in.

You didn’t have chance to acknowledge Harry before George had pulled you up off the couch and, despite his split lip, he brought you into a rough kiss, one that made your toes curl and caused your greeting to become muffled, his hands gripping your hips as he pressed himself against you.

His tongue ran across your bottom lip, before pushing into your mouth, desperately kissing you as though it were the last thing he’d ever do. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.

You weren’t aware he’d started moving you until your back hit the stone wall beside the fireplace, his hand moving to grab your bum, travelling to the back of your thigh to lift it round his waist, his hips pressing against yours.

“Did you hear what he was fucking saying?” He mumbled against your lips, parting briefly to take a breath before kissing you again, “‘Bout my parents, and Harry’s Mum. And you- Merlin he’s lucky he didn’t say much more about you, he’d have had more than a broken nose, I’ll tell you that much.”

Your breathing was heavy, fanning across his lips as you replied, “Trust me, if he’d said much more, I’d have been right there with you breaking more than just his nose.”

He hummed, his mouth hovering over yours as his eyes grazed over your face, your leg still resting around his waist, your hands now gripping his shoulders.

“Are you okay?” You asked. Perhaps a redundant question, considering the events of the day, however as George briefly screwed his eyes shut before opening them again, you knew he understand what you meant - there was something else bothering him, and he knew you could tell.

“‘M fine, love,” he gave you a quick nod, before sighing at your pointed eyebrow raise, “Aside from being banned from Quidditch.”

You blinked, not expecting that answer, lips parting in surprise as his hand moved from your hip to your thigh, tracing random shapes on the skin showing, “Wait McGonagall banned you? She wouldn’t do that! She adores your team! They don’t stand a chance of winning without you!”

“Not her, the toad. Gave me, Freddie and Harry a lifelong ban. Can she even do that?” He swore aloud, his head dropping to your shoulder and you ran a hand through his ginger hair.

“Oh Georgie,” you breathed out, your heart almost breaking at the idea of him losing out on something he loved so much, “I’m sorry to say but you know as well as I do... she can pretty much do whatever she wants, sadly. She’s got the Ministry behind her. I’m so sorry.”

Your gaze moved to the back of your hand, where you knew there was light scarring from a previous detention with her, knowing that if she could get away with something like this, then she’d do it.

“‘S not your fault, is it? Should’ve controlled myself and not fought Malfoy. No matter how much the git bloody deserved it,” George curled his hands into fists as memories of the fight danced through his mind, a snarl setting across his features as he buried his face into your shoulder.

“He definitely deserved it. Least you got in a few good punches, eh? And if it wasn’t you, it would’ve been Fred. If it makes you feel any better though...” you trailed off, causing George to look up at you in anticipation of your next words, “I kinda maybe definitely thought that it was hot, the way you fought Malfoy. Just a little bit.”

He looked you up and down with a smirk, seemingly calming down at the revelation of this new information, “Me fighting is hot is it?”

“Oh Godric yes. You’re sexy when you’re angry anyway, but seeing you punching Malfoy?” You bit your lip and he let out a low groan, “Baby, that was attractive.”

George grinned cheekily, though a tad too wide causing his lip to split again, making him swear and dab at it with the collar of his shirt, reaching his other hand out to squeeze your thigh, “Well now I know that I might cause fights more often.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, watching as his tongue darted out across the cut, before leaning up to press your lips against his again. He kissed back immediately, almost as if he was waiting for you to do it, then began trailing kisses down your jaw, your eyes fluttering closed, before he pulled away suddenly, making you open them again, ready to protest.

“What is it about me fighting?” He asked, the corner of his mouth curling up, as if he was trying not to smile too smugly.

“Now you’re just begging for compliments,” you shook your head.

“Humour me. Humour me and I’ll go back to kissing you,” he countered.

You rolled your eyes, absent-mindedly moving to stroke his biceps through the Quidditch jersey he was still wearing, “Couldn’t tell you if I wanted to. Guess it’s your muscles...”

You pressed your lips together as your gaze caught his, “And how strong you are.”

“Strong?”

You hummed, fingertips dancing up his arms and towards his shoulders, “Oh yeah. You could hold my wrists above my head and I could struggle with everything I have and you’d keep me in place with ease.”

“That a hint?” His voice had dropped a few octaves as he brushed his lips against yours gently, grabbing both your wrists in one hand and pinning them against the wall above your head as you shot him a cheeky grin, gazing up at him.

“A challenge.”

His free hand was already moving under the material of your skirt, as he casually glanced over his shoulder towards the staircase to the dorm rooms, before pressing himself against you further, his lips hovering over yours once more,

“Oh yeah? Then challenge accepted, love.”

#george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagines

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ginnyweasleymybeloved · 4 years ago

Text

summer breezes / george weasley

hi crew :) idk why i wrote this but i was in a george mood so here we go ;)

summary: george acts like he hates you, he doesn’t really hate you. you act like you hate him, but you don’t really hate him. chaos ensues.

slight neville x reader for a second

word count: 6.9k

warnings: swearing, george being mean, lil angsty, fluffy at the end, reader’s house is not specified <3, mentions of food, kissing

let me know what you think ;)

“And what do you expect me to do? By the time I’d even realised I was falling I’d already landed face first on the proverbial concrete,” you groaned out in exasperation, while your best friend looked at you with so much distaste that anyone would’ve thought you’d murdered his family pet.

He shook his head, a scowl as clear as day splashed across his lips as he reprimanded you for your heart’s foolishness, “Of all people…” he scoffed in disgust, “Honestly, Y/n.”

“You know, you shouting at me isn’t going to fix anything,” he rolled his eyes at your statement and racked his eyes over your disheveled state. You’d obviously been battling with yourself over your—unfortunate—crush for some time. As your best friend, Ron Weasley knew he’d have to soften up on you eventually, but honestly, it was your own fault for falling for one of his disastrous siblings.

You were currently sprawled out on Harry’s bed, across from the red-headed boy you’d known since you were in nappies, your arms hanging off the edges of Harry’s four-poster. Neither you or Ron had a clue where Harry, or Hermione, had disappeared off to today. Harry was probably on the quidditch pitch practicing while Hermione haunted the library, you supposed as you listened to Ron’s rantings, wishing they’d been there to mediate.

“—of all of my siblings too! You couldn’t have picked, oh I don’t know, Charlie? Or Fred even? Merlin, even Ginny! But no! You just had to go and bloody fall for the only Weasley who actively cannot stand you.” You only caught that portion of his rave, having gotten lost in the idea of being coddled sympathetically by Harry or Hermione. You adore Ron, really, he’s your loyalist and longest friend, but Merlin was he a total drama queen.

“Charlie is five years older than me, Fred is my wingman and honestly, I snogged him on a dare last summer and I wasn’t that impressed and in case you’ve forgotten, Ronald, Ginny is dating Harry,” you lectured, ignoring how he rolled his eyes as you continued, “Also I’m well aware that he hates me. You don’t need to keep reminding me.”

His composure cracked after hearing your depressed mumble, and with a sigh he moved from his spot on his own bed and made the short trip over to Harry’s. Ron gently pulled you into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress and sat himself down next to you. He let out a heavy sigh, still slightly shaking his head—he couldn’t seem to stop—, then he dropped a heavy arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side, finally offering you the comfort you’d been seeking out in the first place.

“S’alright, Y/n. Maybe he’ll get hit in the head with a bludger and forget he’s hated you since he was four.” Ron encouraged, very weakly.

You released a sigh of your own at that, “I feel like I’m betraying myself here. Like I’m letting that stupid git win.” Ron couldn’t stop the laugh he let out at your grumble.

“I’ll be honest, I thought he’d be the first to crack. You can be quite scary when you get going.” Ron divulged, shuddering at the memories of when he’d been on the receiving end of your rath.

Your family and the Weasley family had been extremely close since before you or Ron were even born, which meant you’d grown up alongside all of the Weasley children. Of course, because of your ages you and Ron had been attached at the hip as infants and remained that way even now, late into your fifth year of Hogwarts. Most of the Weasley children simply adored you, as you did them. However, there was one boy who, for whatever reason, hated you to your very core and as far as you could remember; he always had.

He is none other than the younger of the two twins; George Weasley. Despite the fact that Fred was actually quite fond of you, his twin refused to warm up to you in any way, shape or form. No, the tall and annoyingly attractive boy had made it his life’s mission not to get along with you, but instead, wage a war on you that spanned for the entirety of your childhood and adolescence.

“When did things change? When did it stop being a challenge? When did it start affecting me like this? I used to take his insults like a champ! I used to get him back worse!” You wondered out loud, letting your head flop onto Ron’s broad shoulder as he let out a puff of air through his nose.

“You still take it like a champ, numpty,” he chastised you gently, recoiling ever so slightly when you lurched forward in complete defeat. Your hands shot up to cover your face as you rested your forehead against your knees.

“No! I don’t,” you murmured dejectly, lifting your face from your hands to make eye contact with Ron. “Do you remember the other night in the Great Hall? When Neville told me he thought my hair looked pretty? And George, out of bloody nowhere, comes over and says and I quote, ‘I wouldn’t waste your time on this one, Longbottom. You’d have a better time kissing that toad of yours.’ Do you remember that?” Ron raised an eyebrow and nodded in confusion, your voice seemed to be steadily rising in octaves as you recalled the events of the other night. He had to admit, it had been an unusually unnecessary comment on George’s part, but the youngest Weasley boy wasn’t really sure where you were going with it.

“Well do you remember how I had said, ‘how’s that girlfriend of yours, Georgie? Figured out a way to make her stop being invisible yet?’ and then remember I rushed off? Do you wanna know where I rushed off to?” You pressed, watching intently as Ron nodded his head, unsure if he even wanted to know. “I went to the bathroom and I cried! I cried, Ron! Over something George bloody Weasley said to me!”

His eyes widened at that. Never once had George ever managed to properly upset you.

“And over something as small as that? I’ve heard him say a lot worse to your face.” Ron said in disbelief and you nodded, expression mimicking his as if you couldn’t believe it yourself.

“Right? And it’s like everytime he says something mean to me now my stomach drops and it actually hurts,” Ron regarded you softly, his eyes sad while he rubbed your back as you buried your face in your hands yet again, “Do you know what’s worse though?”

Ron opened his mouth to hazard a guess but no sound escaped as he drew nothing but blanks.

“I actually care what he thinks of me now. As if I actually value his idiotic opinions of me.”

It was at that moment that Harry entered the room sporting muddy quidditch gear and a confused expression, “May I ask why we’re having a heart to heart on my bed?”

Ron shrugged, continuing to rub soothing circles into your back as he told Harry mournfully, “Y/n likes George.”

“Merlin.” Harry whispered, as horrified to learn of your crush as Ron had been. “But, Y/n, he hates you! I mean he really hates you-“ the chosen one was cut off by a pillow making contact with his face. Ron had chucked it at him the second he felt your form begin to shake beneath his touch.

“Bloody hell, Harry! You’ve gone and upset her even more!” He whispered harshly. Harry quickly set his broom down and plopped himself down beside you, leaving you trapped between himself and Ron. The green-eyed boy rested his cheek against your lightly shaking back and managed to snake his arms around your torso.

“Sorry. Shouldn’t have said that.” He told you genuinely. “Should we go and find Hermione?”

You only shook your head. Embarrassment quickly overtook you as you realised your were crying in front of your two best friends over George fucking Weasley.

“No. No, I’m okay. It’s fine,” you sat up and hastily wiped your tears away.

“It’s okay to be upset, Y/n,” Harry spoke softly, squeezing your middle in a short hug, getting mud from his quidditch practice all over you.

With a resolute shake of your head you stood up and faced the boys, who each looked at you with pity filled eyes, then you spoke as steadily as you could, “I’m not upset. He hasn’t upset me,” you weren’t fooling anyone, really. Your eyes were bloodshot, your cheeks and nose were red and your voice was slightly hoarse when you spoke. The boys entertained you anyway, nodding in agreement.

“I’m telling you this as his brother and your best mate; you can do better.” Ron told you honestly, he wasn’t lying either, you were the type of girl who could get any boy she wanted without lifting a finger. Well, not any boy—obviously— but that wasn’t anything to do with you. Ron had his suspicions in regards to why his brother acted like such a knob towards you, however he’d been thrown off his scent recently when the older ginger stopped being mean to you teasingly in favour of being just plain mean.

You gave Ron the best smile you could muster at his words, “You are absolutely right, Ronald.”

Harry snorted before making his way over to Ron’s trunk, he rifled through it for a few seconds before pulling out one of Ron’s jumpers. He casually tossed, what you recognised to be Ron’s Christmas jumper from Molly, over to you with a grin, “Put that on. I got muck all over you.”

You had plenty of your own Christmas jumpers made by Molly Weasley but they were all the way over in your own dorm. Besides, you liked stealing the ones made for the boys as they were usually far too big for you which made them extremely comfortable to wear.

So you happily pulled the maroon jumper over your head, the wool effectively covering your dirtied t-shirt.

“Oh yes, by all means, you two just work away.” Ron grunted sarcastically. In all honesty, he didn’t care if you stole every piece of fabric he owned, if it made you feel better, he couldn’t care less.

“Right,” you said, making your way to the door of the dorm room, “I think I’ll go for a walk before the sunsets, calm myself down a bit.”

The boys nodded, “See you at dinner?” Ron asked and you gave him a smile and a small nod of confirmation before you set off out of the Gryffindor common room.

Thankfully, you didn’t run into George on your way out. You walked peacefully through the gardens and behind the greenhouses, it was around five in the evening and the sun was beginning to stoop low behind the tree line. The days were beginning to take on a chill as October approached quickly, you’d gone out without grabbing a jacket and you couldn’t deny that you were beginning to feel the cold nipping at your skin despite Ron’s jumper. Pulling the sleeves further down your wrists you carried on, trudging forward through the fallen leaves of the garden, you weren’t ready to go back inside yet. Going back to the castle meant you’d have to look your problem in the face, literally. You settled on the fact that you’d rather endure the physical cold rather than the emotional coldness you were sure to receive from George at dinner.

When you’d reached the back of the third greenhouse you could faintly hear someone humming to themselves and a soft smile found your lips when you saw who it was. Neville sat on a chair in the greenhouse, right by a plant that you hadn’t a clue what it was called, seemingly humming the little tune for the plant in question. Despite his undeniable clumsiness, there was something about Neville Longbottom that soothed you greatly. He has a good soul and his heart is usually in the right place, even if his head is sometimes screwed on slightly loose.

Gently, trying not to startle him you knocked on the closed door of the greenhouse before you opened it and walked in, “Hi, Neville. Mind if I join you?”

Neville blushed slightly but nodded his head, “Course! There’s a spare chair just there,” he pointed nervously to the chair. Once you settled yourself beside him, he let himself relax slightly.

“What sort of plant is this?” You asked him curiously. You really liked plants but you weren’t the best at keeping them alive, Neville though, seemed to be something of a green thumb.

He beamed at your question and quickly began to explain everything about the plant before you. You didn’t absorb a lot of it but listening to Neville speak so freely, something he rarely got to do amidst the other Gryffindor boys, filled you with a sense of serenity. Between his voice and the light wind that blew against the glass building, you’d completely forgotten about your red-headed problem.

“—sorry, I’m probably boring you. My nan says I have a tendency to ramble.” He cut himself off, cheeks heating up as he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully.

With a small giggle you only shook your head at the brown haired boy, “You’re not boring me at all! I quite like listening to you speak,” you admitted although you felt a bit silly after saying it out loud. Neville seemed to grow even more flustered after the words left your lips.

His eyes searched your face for any sign that you were teasing him, but all he saw was your kind eyes and comforting smile. Not exactly sure about what to say to you, Neville made an observation, “You’re cold.”

You gave him a nonchalant shrug, “I’m okay.”

Completely unsatisfied with your answer, Neville shook his head in protest and shrugged off his jacket. He was used to spending a lot of time in the garden so he was usually sporting far more layers than necessary, just in case. “Here, wear this. You’ll catch a cold otherwise,” he fretted and you didn’t have the heart to turn his offer down, you didn’t want to turn it down either, you were absolutely freezing. Gratefully you accepted the jacket and wasted no time in pulling it on.

“Thank you, Neville,” he looked you over for a moment, you could tell he was debating with himself on whether or not to speak, after a long few seconds of his eyes running over you he spoke.

“You look nice- I, uh, the jacket. You look nice in the jacket- I mean, the jacket looks nice on you-“ another giggle left your lips and effectively put the boy’s fumbled ramble to an end.

“Again, thank you, Neville. You are unbelievably kind.” You told him sincerely, quite enjoying the blush that adorned his cheeks.

“We should probably head back to the castle for dinner now. It’s gotten dark,” Neville said, standing up after giving his plant a loving pat.

The walk back to the castle with Neville was nice. The pair of you chatted idly about school subjects and house drama, but you had to admit, you weren’t paying a huge amount of attention to the conversation.

“Thanks again for lending me your jacket,” you said sweetly, shrugging the jacket off as you reached the main hall of the castle.

Neville, who seemed to be in a perpetual state of bashfulness, took the jacket back gently, a rosy blush painting his features, “It was no problem, really.”

Neville had always been incredibly kindhearted, sometimes to his own detriment. He treated people with respect and never turned anyone away if they needed help with anything at all. He is sweet, honest, loyal and, whether you liked him or not, he is indisputably adorable. And you found yourself thinking about how entirely better your life would be if your heart had chosen Neville to have a romantic fondness towards.

After separating from Neville, you made your way towards the Great Hall. On your way you bumped into Fred Weasley, who surprisingly, wasn’t accompanied by his twin. He greeted you with a wide smile and, as he always did, he ruffled your hair.

“So! I have a proposition for you,” the look on his face as he spoke was nothing short of wicked, a pit of nerves began to form in your stomach with the way his eyes were lit up excitedly.

“What are you proposing?” You encouraged exhaustedly. Whatever it was would probably end with you running from Filch.

Fred lopped his long arm around your shoulder, effectively pulling you along with him as he walked in the opposite direction of the Great Hall. Any chance of you getting fed this evening had gone out the window the second Fred clapped eyes on you, you’d made your peace with it. “I’m glad you asked, princess- “ at the sound of the pet name you let out a guttural groan.

“Freddie, please, I’m not in the mood to help you make some poor girl jealous just so you can get a snog,” you whined weakly only for the boy to ruffle your hair and tug you closer to his side.

“Let me finish! As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” he paused to glare at you jokingly and you smiled apologetically, “I have a plan to make George stop acting like a prat.”

A disbelieving scoff left your lips, “Yeah that’s likely,” Fred laughed and pinched your cheek lightly before carrying on.

“Angelina told me that she heard you crying in the girls toilets the other night,” he informed you. Your eyes widened in shock and confusion, you didn’t think anyone was in there with you and you also couldn’t piece together what your moment of weakness had to do with Fred’s master plan. “And before you start, I know it’s because of George.”

“That’s ridiculous, Fred.” You lied, unconvincingly.

Fred laughed again, it was a gentle laugh that let you know he hadn’t come here to tease you but to help you, “I know it’s ridiculous and that’s exactly why I know you’ve been so down in the dumps the last few days.”

“Besides,” he started again when you remained silent, “Why else would Ron be giving his brother the silent treatment?”

“What does any of this have to do with your plan?” You asked, eyes sad and heart heavy for the second time that day. You’d only just managed to get the whole thing out of your mind, and yet, here it was again.

“Well I happen to know why George acts the way he does,” you met him with a raised eyebrow and a bored expression.

“Because he hates me, I know.” Fred’s lips grew into a wicked grin and he shook his head, coming to a stop in the middle of the hallway.

“That’s where you’re wrong. He doesn’t hate you,” he lowered his lips to hover right by your ear before he whispered quietly, “He loves you.”

With a roll of your eyes, you pushed the boy away, fixing him with a hard stare, “Come on, Fred. That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking!” He exclaimed desperately, “We were in potions making amortentia, yeah? And Slughorn called George up to tell the class what he smelled and do you know what he said?” Fred retold madly, knowing full well that this was possibly the only opening he’d get to make the two of you realise your own feelings. Fred was well aware that you developed a crush on George, he picked up on it the second you began looking crestfallen when hit with a snide remark from his twin. He knew long before now that George had loving feelings towards you too, but their recent potions class was the only hard evidence he had to support his theory.

You shrugged helplessly in response, and Fred grabbed your shoulders and looked down at you urgently, “He said it smelled of cloudberries, daisies and-this is a direct quote-‘summer breezes’,” you stared at him numbly, not exactly sure what to say as the description did match the perfume you’d been wearing regularly since you were thirteen.

“That’s you, Y/n!” Fred confirmed and you pulled your lips between your teeth before shaking your head in complete denial.

“Lots of girls wear that perfume-“ Fred cut you off, ruthlessly.

“Name one.” You racked your brain but you genuinely couldn’t name another person who wore the same perfume as you. “You can’t, can you? Because it’s your smell!”

“Ok fine! So it’s my smell, what exactly do you expect me to do with this information?” Fred rolled his eyes in exhaustion at you.

“Blimey, you’re as daft as he is sometimes, do you know that?” Fred ran his hands down his face in exasperation before looking at you softly, “I except you to come with me so we can drive him mental for a bit and if he gets nasty I’ll embarrass him because I’m an incredible brother.”

You let him lead you towards Gryffindor Tower all while complaining about how you were starving only for Fred to hush you each time you let out a hungered whine, “We can raid the kitchen later on, love,” he promised and you sighed in defeat, “That’s the spirit.”

When the pair of you entered the Gryffindor common room, George was already there, probably waiting for Fred to return it. He sat one one of the sofas that faced the fire, completely relaxed and you hated the fact that you thought he looked amazingly ethereal with the way the flames from the fire lit his skin in an orange glow.

He hadn’t noticed you yet and Fred took notice of this. The older twin subtly slid his hand into yours and intertwined your fingers with his before turning his head and shooting you a mischievous wink. Fred Weasley was a nightmare, but when he was on your side, he never failed to make you smile.

Accepting that whatever Fred was about to drag you into would result in nothing but chaos you took a deep breath and followed Fred over to the sofa.

“What is she doing here?” George practically seethed, despite the intensity of his glare, you didn’t miss the nervous look he shot in Fred’s direction. What you had missed, though, was how harshly he’d clenched his jaw upon noticing your intertwined hands.

You decided that tonight you’d play the game slightly differently, if what Fred was saying was true, it would make things all the more entertaining. So, instead of your usual menacing glare and ego-shattering insult you met George with an innocent smile, “Was just hanging out with Freddie, thought I’d come say hello,” you said, sitting in the middle of the two twins.

George stared at you suspiciously, “Hello. That all?”

“Hi. No, actually, I think I’ll sit with you for a while. If that’s okay?” Fred was smirking from his spot beside you as he watched George’s face contort.

“You’ve never wanted to sit with me before.” He told you, squinting his eyes and trying to decipher what you were up to. He couldn’t lie to himself, he definitely wouldn’t mind you staying so close to him for a while, however he’d also sooner die then let you think you had the upper hand.

His and your composure cracked simultaneously at your next sentence, your truthful and somewhat vulnerable mumble of, “Well, you’ve never given me a chance to.” He knew you were right so he didn’t say anymore, opting to shift his gaze to the roaring fire, trying his best not to let his mind linger on the fact that you were wearing his brother’s jumper. His nose perked up at the scent that drifted from your spot, unusually close to him. There was no doubt in his mind that he’d fancied you for a long time, but, there was also no denying that he’d done a perfect job of making you hate him. Yet, as much as he wanted to just cut the crap, tell you that he thinks you’re the most insufferably beautiful girl he’d ever seen and kiss you and never ever stop, his pride would never allow him to cave. Especially not when you challenged him so effortlessly.

“So how come you were headed to dinner so late anyway?” Fred piqued up, growing tired of the lack of hostility between yourself and his twin.

“Oh. I was sort of worked up earlier so I decided to go for a walk ‘round the greenhouses. I bumped into Neville and I suppose I just lost track of time,” you explained halfheartedly.

Fred let yet another smirk overtake his face, “Longbottom, eh?” He wiggled his eyebrows and you let out a short giggle while shaking your head, sure, it would’ve been a good topic to tease George with, however, Neville was simply too sweet to be used as a pawn.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s very sweet. But he’s just a friend,” George looked almost satisfied with that answer, his usual scowl making an appearance once again.

“He could do better.” It was a barefaced lie. Neville couldn’t do better than you. In fact, George was of the firm belief that nobody could do better than you.

“Of course he could, he’s quite the charmer,” you spoke wistfully, finally giving Fred the show he’d been hoping for, as you egged George on.

George pretended to think for a moment, “I’m sure he is. Personally I think you’d be more suited to Filch, although, I’ve heard his standards are quite high.”

You took the boy by surprise when you laughed, the airy giggle left your mouth had such a profound effect on George that he almost wished he’d kept his mouth shut. His heart was leaping and there were butterflies beginning to form in his stomach, he physically had to will himself not to stare at you in awe when your eyes turned to meet his. The glow of the fire only aided in showing him how gorgeous those stupid eyes of yours are. “Mmm, yeah I suppose I should lower my expectations,” you paused briefly and mimicked George’s earlier motion of pretending to mull over your options. Your next action had Fred practically howling with laughter.

“You’re available, aren’t you Georgie?” You’d asked in a mock sultry tone, leaning towards him and lightly brushing your hand down his arm. Loving the way he choked on air you got up from the sofa, not before shooting him a wink, and sauntered towards the portrait hole, “I’ll be in the kitchens. See ya later, sexy.” You directed the last part at George, who looked as though he’d been frozen in time as Fred’s laughter grew in volume.

Upon entering the kitchen, the house elves had fussed around you, handing you food at any given opportunity. You had finished eating a while ago, you were currently nursing a hot cup of tea while chatting away to one of the house elves, only to be interrupted by someone else entering the kitchen.

He set his sights on you and quickly moved to the seat across from you, a look of urgency on his face that reminded you of Fred, “Whatever he told you. It’s not true,” you raised an eyebrow, sipping your tea uncaringly.

“Mind elaborating?” You asked tiredly.

“Fred.”

“Thank you, George, very clear and helpful,” you grumbled sarcastically and the boy let out a huff.

“You were acting different. You know something. What did he tell you?” George demanded through gritted teeth and you only deflated against your chair. It always boggled your mind how everyone described George as the nicer of the twins.

Not answering, you decided to start asking your own questions, “Can I ask you something?”

“Seems like you’re going to no matter what I say,” he sighed out as an elf pottered up to him and handed him a cup full of hot tea. He took it gently and thanked the elf with such sincerity that you wished you hadn’t seen the exchange, simply because it stung to know he’d never treat you with that level of sincerity.

“Why do you hate me so much?” He sat frozen for a second. Your tone of voice took him by surprise. It was needy bordering on desperate, nothing like he’d ever heard you speak before, not to him anyway.

George took a sip of his tea and shrugged as if the question was a stupid one, “I don’t.” A cold, humourless laugh came from you in response, the kind of laugh that made his stomach drop.

“Bollox. I’m being serious, George. Tell me what it is about me that makes me so insufferable to you!” You exclaimed, heart rate increasing and tone raising in octaves as you felt yourself growing more upset by his reserved expression.

George let out a heavy sigh, the jig was about to be up. You were upset and merlin was he tired of pretending that he didn’t want you in every way, shape and form.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.” There was no trace of hesitance or uncertainty in your voice, at this point you didn’t care what the answer was you just had to know.

“Fine,” he said all too casually and you knew by his tone that he, as per usual, wasn’t taking you seriously. “I don’t hate you. The only insufferable thing about you is how annoyingly gorgeous-“ you cut him off right then, with a scoff of pure disbelief.

Shaking your head rapidly, you stood from your chair and all but stormed out of the kitchen. His footsteps began to echoed behind you a few corridors later, he would’ve caught up to you sooner had your response to his would be confession not left him completely immobile. He called your name but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. Tears stung your eyes and you absolutely refused to let him know that he’d managed to bring you to the point of tears. Not that it was the first time.

“Bloody hell, Y/n! Hold on would you?” He called, finally getting close enough to reach out and grab your wrist. He spun you around to face him and quickly placed his hands on your upper arms to stop you from doing another runner. When he took you in he swore he’d never hate himself more than he did the moment he looked at you to see your eyes filled with tears, small drops escaping and carving a trail down your cheeks while you sniffed miserably.

“What?” You snapped, hostility the only thing you felt like offering the ginger in the moment. His brown eyes bored into yours with so much intensity but they held something you didn’t recognise. They looked sad, almost.

“I wasn’t making fun of you.” He stated honestly but you furrowed your eyebrows, your eyes set in a glare.

“Then what were you doing?” You croaked, letting your tears fall freely as the damage was already done. The sinking of your stomach and the tightening of your chest didn’t do a thing to ease your mind as George’s hands squeezed your arms.

He licked his lips quickly, he felt they’d become unbearably dry, and then slowly, he let his hands trail down your arms and took your smaller hands into his own. He hoped you were feeling the same electricity he was when he touched you.

“I’ve been a prick to you. You didn’t deserve it and I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere, but you second guessed him. For all you knew it was just some elaborate prank, Fred was probably in on it too.

When your gaze didn’t soften, he continued to speak, “So I understand why you wouldn’t believe me when I tell you that I don’t hate you. But I just-“ he cut himself off with a heavy sigh.

“You just what?” You squeaked when his eyes spent a moment too long observing your lips. You hardly had time to register the feeling of his hands leaving yours before they were cupping your cheeks instead. “What’re you doing?” You wondered, completely dazed by the way he stared at you. His warm hands holding your face causing your stomach to jolt in an entirely different sensation than before. As much as you wanted to push him away and tell him to shove his apology, you couldn’t help but take him in. His lips were parted ever so slightly and his cheeks were flushed, probably from chasing you through the castle, his hair was disheveled and merlin he looked like he wanted to kiss you.

Your question floated in the air, completely unanswered. Next thing you knew his lips were on yours. He kissed you as if you were oxygen and he’d just been drowning and you couldn’t help but move your lips harmonically against his too. Your hands clutched his wrists as he continued to cradle your cheeks. In all honesty you weren’t sure at what point he’d backed you against the wall, or at what point his tongue had entered your mouth or when exactly his hands had migrated to your hips, yours now tangled in his hair. His body was pressed flush against yours and the small groans he’d let out when you tugged at his hair or ran your tongue against his made you realise that you couldn’t care less if this was one big prank or joke. It was happening and that’s all you cared about.

Even as he reluctantly pulled away, he chased your lips with several shorter kisses before separating entirely. He rested his forehead against yours, his guard completely down now as he admired your swollen lips and heaving chest. The feeling of your fingers in his hair made it nearly impossible for him to keep his lips detached from yours, “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing that.”

Your eyes searched his face for any sign that he was lying, when you found none you finally let yourself smile. A similar smile formed on George’s face, “I meant what I said earlier. I really do think you’re annoyingly gorgeous,” the boy silently praised himself when you let out a cute giggle.

“You’re quite cute too. When you’re not running that massive mouth of yours,” you teased although you weren’t really joking, to your surprise George let out a bellowing laugh before placing a fluttering kiss against your lips.

When he pulled away again he looked around the hallway, as if he only now realised where he was. Luckily nobody was wandering the halls since curfew was fast approaching and the unwelcoming cold that occupied the hallways left little reason for students or staff to be out and about. George slid his hand into yours again, this time intertwining your fingers with his. He gave you a hopeful glance and asked, “Do you wanna go somewhere?”

You nodded your head and let him tug you into one of the abandoned astronomy classrooms on the upper floor of the castle, Filch rarely ever patrolled up there which is why George decided on it. As well as that, since the classroom, which had been out of use for a good few years, had been used for astronomy the ceiling was bewitched to reflect the night sky.

George hadn’t come to this particular class in a while but thinking on his feet he remembered the cupboard at the back of the classroom used to hold blankets, he remembered when the classroom had been in use during his first year, students would be all but freezing during the winter, so they’d stocked the classroom with blankets to be brought out during the colder months.

He made his way over to the cupboard and grinned happily when his hand landed on a rather large woollen blanket. The material was scratchy but it would do for what he needed it for. He grabbed one more blanket from the dusty press before he made his way back over to you.

George suppressed a chuckle as he watched you, your face completely turned up, watching the stars on the ceiling with awe in your eyes. He busied himself with laying the wool blanket out on the bare floor, the room was devoid of tables and chairs so he didn’t have to worry about finding a space. Once he was finished, he plopped down on the blanket and expectantly patted the empty space beside him, “Come on then, sit down,” he urged and you finally tore your eyes away from the charmed ceiling.

A small laugh left your lips when you settled yourself down beside him, he wasted no time in covering the pair of you in the second blanket. With an exaggerated sigh he laid back and waited for you to do the same, he turned on his side to face you when you did. In contrast to earlier, George had an air of nervousness about him as he deftly took your hand and began playing with your fingers, not meeting your eyes. “Just out of curiosity,” he began quietly, making eye contact with you now, “What exactly did Fred tell you?”

His question forced a somewhat smug smirk to crawl onto your lips and you couldn’t help but take the opportunity to tease him. You leaned up on your elbows and twisted slightly so you could look down at him, trying not to waste too much time admiring the view, you answered him, “Oh, nothing really. Your lovely twin just happened to mention that you had a very eventful potions class the other day…” you trailed off, biting back a smile as he groaned.

“Mhm and what was it that he said you smelled from the amortentia?” You poked his cheek and he closed his eyes, a tiny smile growing on his face despite his blushing cheeks. “Cloudberries…oh! And daisies, now, what was the other thing? Let me think-“ you pretended to ponder before George cut you off by pulling you down on him and pressing his lips to yours in a kiss much softer than any of the others.

“Summer breezes,” he whispered against your lips before connecting them again, “It smelled like you,” and with that his hand snaked to the nape of your neck as he pressed his lips against yours, pouring all of his feelings into it, hoping it was enough. In all honesty, now that he’d felt what it was like to love you, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to go back to pretending to hate you.

Once he pulled away you were completely breathless, however, George seemed to have more to say. “I don’t want us to go back to the way we were,” absentmindedly you brushed his hair out of his eyes, stroking the red strands soothingly as he continued to confide in you, his voice, face and body completely vulnerable to you. Something about him trusting you with his feelings reassured you that his intentions were pure and banished any notion you possessed of the whole thing being a joke, “I didn’t like it, acting like that but you were always so unbothered that I felt like I had keep one upping you,” he confessed.

“You always gave me this feeling in my stomach whenever you’d come over to the Burrow with your parents when we were little and I didn’t understand it. I just thought that it must’ve meant I didn’t like you…” George seemed to get lost in his own mind as he gazed at you regretfully, his fingers trailed the length of your spine sofly, “By the time I realised, we were both older and I suppose I just thought you couldn’t feel the same ‘cause I made you hate me,” you hummed in acknowledgment, your fingers still working his hair, keeping it out of his eyes that looked at you so intently that you could’ve drowned in them and died happy.

“But then the other night after dinner Angie slapped me upside the head and talked my ear off about how out of order I’d been—obviously I agree with her! You weren’t even talking to me but Neville was complimenting you and I don’t know… just got possessive,” he muttered the last part, losing some confidence but regained it upon seeing the little smile on your lips. “Then Ron looked about ready to push me off the astronomy tower when I saw him this evening. Blimey, I knew it had to have something to do with you since Harry was snippy too.” You had to laugh at the exhausted look on his face when he recalled your two best friends.

Mockingly, you gave him a stern look and clicked your tongue, “Well, perhaps if you weren’t so mean to me all of this could’ve been avoided,” George groaned once again, feeling guilty he pulled you even closer and buried his face in your neck.

“M’sorry,” you carded your fingers through his hair, pressing a soft kiss to his head. Your lips against his head caused him to lift his face from the crook of your neck, “Forgive me?” He asked, a cute pout on his lips.

“I’ll think about it,” you teased, giggling at the offended look on his face. George let out a dissatisfied sigh, he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear before giving you a toothy smile.

“Don’t worry, love. I plan on making it up to you.”

#george weasley x reader #george weasley #harry potter x reader #fred weasley x reader #ron weasley x reader #neville longbottom x reader #weasley twins x reader

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rhaenyratargayen · 4 years ago

Text

dance, baby // f.w.

summary — fred weasley is feeling sappy a month before his big brother gets married, so he takes his girlfriend out to ask the big question.

word count — 2.7k

warnings — marriage, proposing, cursing.

a/n — hi loves! this is for my bby kai’s @rcwenaclaw 1.5k followers writing challenge! congratulations my love <3 my prompt is “care to dance?” “there’s no music playing!” “so?”

Fred held your hand tightly in his as he led you through the tall grass behind the Burrow. It was just after sundown, the air cooling as the stars appeared in the sky. You tugged Fred’s old flannel you were wearing tightly around you, squeezing Fred’s hand in the process. He looked back at you, chuckling softly when he realized his long legs were practically leaving you in the dust behind him.

“Sorry, love.” He laughed, slowing his pace.

He lifted his hand still in yours and wrapped it around your waist, pulling you close to him in the process. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and one to your lips before he continued on.

“Where are we even going, Freddie?” You asked, squinting your eyes as you looked out into the empty field.

“Patience, darling.” He chuckled, “It’ll be worth it.”

While all the other Weasleys had gone to bed after a long day, Fred was outside your door and ushering you outside before you could protest or ask why. It was June, the weather was warm and days were filled with playing quidditch and water fights with the garden hose. Even as an adult, summers spent at the Burrow were anything but uneventful.

Still, your mind often wandered to the place it was so many summers ago, reading a book with Hermione in the shade while the others played quidditch, or helping Molly cook dinner in the kitchen. Those memories were fond as they held the warmth of the burrow and the peacefulness in mind – no anxious thoughts of the Dark Lord or fear of the next war.

Your most prominent memories included your current boyfriend, although he wasn’t so fortunate to hold that title years ago.

“Fred. You prick, give me back my book.”

You were sixteen years old, hot from the beating sun, and absolutely furious at the lanky redhead before you.

Fred laughed at your harsh tone, always proud to get a rise out of you. He began running around the yard, tauntingly, with your book held high over his head and completely out of your reach.

George, Ginny, Harry and Ron all stood on the ground with their brooms, waiting impatiently for Fred to return to their game. Hermione rolled her eyes at Fred’s antics from where she sat under the shade tree, clutching her book tighter as if he would return to steal hers as well.

But you stood firm in your place, heels dug into the ground and arms crossed over your chest. You clenched your jaw, exhaling a heavy breath like a bull preparing to charge. Fred turned when he realized you weren’t after your book and looked to you with a confused frown.

“I’m not going to chase you, you git, give it back.” You scoffed, holding your hand out expectedly.

“Y/N,” Fred whined, “You’re always under that shade tree reading, come play a game with us.”

“You mean come play a game with you?” You quipped.

Fred tilted his head and scratched the back of his neck, “I mean yeah… I’ll be there too.”

“You’re unbelievable.” You huffed out a laugh.

You turned on your heel, without your book, and began stomping back to the shade tree. But a gasp left your lips as you felt a hand grab at your wrist, you whipped around to see Fred’s larger hand holding your wrist. It was one of the moments you hated Fred Weasley most; when he made you feel light as a feather with him as your only tether to the ground.

“One game,” He pleaded, “Please?”

“Oi!” Ginny’s booming voice was heard behind Fred, “Didn’t Mum ever tell you stealing isn’t a good way of flirting?”

Fred sighed dramatically as soon as he heard the cackles from his brothers at Ginny’s comment.

“Sod off!” He scoffed.

“Let’s go mate, we wanna play again.” George huffed, standing with his hands on his hips.

“‘M trying to get Y/N to play with us, then we’ll have an even six.”

Y/N sighed as the others perked up at his suggestion, suddenly in on his plan if that meant a fair game for them.

“Come on, Y/N, what do you say?” Ginny grinned.

“It’s too hot,” You protested, “I was just about to head inside, anyway.”

“Too hot? I’ve got a solution for that.”

It took you too many seconds to realize what George meant, and before a scream of protest could leave your lips you were being soaked from head to foot as George raised his wand in the air, the garden hose raining over you and Fred like a downpour.

All were silent as the water stopped, revealing your absolute furious expression and clenched fists.

“This is your fault, Weasley.” You spoke dangerously quiet to Fred.

He bit his lip to contain the bark of laughter he so desperately wanted to let out, and he couldn’t help but find you absolutely adorable in that moment.

“And you’re gonna pay for it.”

You began chasing Fred just as he had wanted in the beginning. He laughed loudly as he weaved through the tall grass, slowing his speed to allow you almost close enough to catch him before he ran off again. Soon enough your screams of fury were cut up by laughter and Fred finally let you catch him, laughing uncontrollably when you knocked him to the ground.

Memories like that kept you feeling afloat, kept the light burning when things became too hard to handle. Any memory you had with Fred you held close to your heart, treasuring them all individually, afraid to lose them.

It wasn’t long after that you had become Fred’s official girlfriend. After years of mutual pining and immaturely making each other jealous as teenagers, all it took was one insufferable Dolores Umbridge to bring the two of you together ultimately on the day of the twin’s escape from Hogwarts.

Your boots clicked rapidly against the floor as you rushed to the top of the stairs where the boys were waiting. You desperately hoped you weren’t too late.

The thought of not having Fred in your life overcame any pride you had. Not having him scared you, and with the clock ticking down on your realization, you rushed to find Fred to let him know how you felt before he was gone.

“Fred.” You sighed in relief as you spotted two redheads looking over the balcony of the staircase. Below you could see the hall filled with students taking their exams as Fred and George waited for their opportune moment.

“Y/N?” Fred turned back with a surprised grin.

He wasn’t sure he would see you before he left, after all you two didn’t get along. He worried that the banter you two had wasn’t a cover up for your feelings for one another, he worried maybe you truly didn’t like him, but all of his anxious worries washed away the moment he saw the adoration on your face as you saw him.

He rushed towards you and wrapped his arms around you, digging his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling your scent as your arms wrapped around his neck. He felt his stomach fill with the familiar flutters he felt around you, but it was different this time because he knew you were feeling them too.

“I was afraid I was too late.” You sighed as you pulled back.

Fred kept his arms around you, keeping you close to him and savoring the moment he longed for before he was off and out of this school forever.

“I would’ve waited ages for you, darling.” The sincerity in his tone stole your breath, your vision now only filled with everything Fred Weasley.

“I’m gonna miss you, Freddie.” You muttered, afraid if you spoke up you might break under the thought of him leaving after you finally confessed.

“Hey,” He cooed, petting your hair, “It’s only two months before you're out of here for good too, and when you are I’ll be waiting for you to get off the train and we can pick up where we left off, yeah?”

You nodded, holding on to the promise of his words and the love you felt for him. With a confident inhale, you put on a smile as you blinked up at him. You fell for the mischief in his eyes in that moment, the mischief that couldn’t wait to go out with a bang and start up a joke shop with George.

“I’ll see you soon, then?” You giggled softly.

“Sooner than you think.”

Suddenly you felt his hands cupping your face as he stared down at you in adoration, like he was holding his entire world in his hands. He waited for you to nod slightly at him before he dipped down and connected his lips with yours.

It was euphoric, to finally kiss him after so long. The kiss held a thousand meanings; a hello and a goodbye. You clung to him at the thought, sucking lightly on his bottom lip and feeling him tug you closer in return. You chased his lips as he pulled back, and he indulged you with one last kiss before he was off on his broom.

“I’ve been patient long enough, Freddie,” You laughed, “Are we almost there now?”

Fred smiled back at you but didn’t answer, he only continued with your hand in his until the two of you reached the peak of a small hill. You gasped as you reached the top, his question suddenly answered as you caught a glimpse of floating lights circling around a picnic blanket laid out in the grass.

“Oh, Freddie.” You sighed happily, taking the lead as you rushed towards the comfortable spot.

“I told you it’d be worth it.”

Fred placed his hand on your waist and spun you to face him, his lips colliding with yours before you could even comprehend his actions. You smiled instantly, pausing the kiss to giggle softly before you wrapped your arms around his neck and sunk to the ground over the blanket.

“I love you.” You sighed against his lips.

Fred hummed in return, moving to hover over you. His thumb ran softly over your hip as his lips peppered kisses along your cheek and the corner of your mouth.

“Trust me, not as much as I love you.”

You scoffed, playfully, fighting back wordlessly as you caught his lips again in a kiss. He exhaled a breathy laugh at your actions, pecking your lips several times before he pulled away and sat up.

“Merlin, you’re perfect.” He muttered to himself as he watched you sit up to face him, pure innocence on your face as he knew you had no idea of the events to come for the night.

A smile rose to your lips, along with growing affection in your chest as you moved to sit beside him, tucking your face in his chest as he wrapped his arms around you once again.

“You’re rather needy tonight, aren't’ you love?” He teased.

“Well you’re being awfully romantic.” You quipped back.

He chuckled to himself, “You have no idea.”

You sat there for a moment, enjoying being in each other’s arms under a starry night sky. His scent filled your senses, lulling you to a state of uteral peace, a state your mind brought you to everytime you thought of him. Fred was where you always wanted to be, not only was he the love of your life but he was your home as well.

“Care to dance?” He spoke up, suddenly.

Your brows furrowed as your head shot up to face him. He had an obnoxiously adorable smile on his face, one that could unknowingly make you do absolutely anything. The air had started to cool and you were much warmer cuddled up beside him, but his smile was far too adorable to immediately shut down his offer.

“Fred,” You laughed, softly, “There’s no music playing.”

Fred scoffed playfully, immediately standing to his feet confidently.

“So?” He shrugged, holding his hand out to you, “When has something like that ever stopped me before?”

You bit your lip as your eyes met his, sharing the mischievous glint you used to hate so much. It had grown on you in the best possible way, becoming one of the things you loved about your boyfriend most.

With a knowing head tilt from Fred, you playfully rolled your eyes in protest before you slapped your hand in his, snickering as you heard his laughter roar as he pulled you to your feet.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before he twirled you around and into his chest. His hand fell at your waist, the other holding yours delicately in the air beside you. You hadn’t even thought about the absence of music, instead finding yourself getting lost in how he held you.

Being near Fred was simultaneously dizzying and grounding. Your overwhelming love for him sometimes had you feeling like you were floating on cloud nine, slipping out of this reality and into one where you could be with him forever, but the tenderness in his voice as he spoke to you, the firmness in the way he held you; grounded you to the point where you didn’t feel like you needed to drift away to another reality, this one was just fine as long as he was in it.

“What’re you thinking about, princess?” Fred rested his head on yours, not even needing to look at you to know what your silence meant.

“You,” You sighed, honestly, “I love you.”

Fred stopped swaying and pulled back to look at you, cupping your face in his hand the instant you raised your head.

“I know you’re scared, Merlin, I am too,” He sighed, “But it doesn’t seem so scary when I look at you. It doesn’t seem like some mountain to overcome, it just seems like an obstacle to face, and we will face it. When I look at you, I don’t worry about the fear because I know when we come out on the other side you’ll still love me like you do now.”

Your eyes flitted between his, holding on to every word he said. You sank into the feeling of his hold on you, your own hands clasping together around his neck. He bit his lip as he paused, tearing his gaze from the landscape behind you to look you in the eyes.

There it was, that mischievous glint. And before you could question the suspicious romantic actions of your boyfriend, he had lowered himself on one knee before you. You gasped as he took your hands in his, running his thumb along your knuckles comfortingly, like he knew how rapid your heart was racing as his was too.

“I’m scared, fuckin’ hell I am,” Fred nodded rapidly, “But Bill and Fleur are getting married in two months. They aren’t letting the fear stop them from being with each other and that’s how I feel with you, Y/N. Whatever happens is worth it to me if you and I are together in the end.”

Your hands shook in his, silent tears streaming down your face as you longed to jump into his arms. You knew your answer, he knew your answer, but you awaited the moment and welcomed it graciously.

“You are the love of my life,” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black velvet box, opening it to you to reveal a stunning ring, “Love, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Your tears fell as the words left his lips, and you were nodding before you could choke out a coherent, ‘yes’. Fred cried as well, his tears falling rapidly as he slid the ring on your finger, he took a moment to admire it, capturing the image in his mind.

He held you tightly as you jumped into his arms once he stood, your lips finding his immediately. You kissed Fred Weasley with a passion you hadn’t felt before, melting into his embrace as the weight of the ring on your finger sunk in. You were to be his and he was to be yours, fully and officially.

“I love you.” Fred mumbled against your lips as he pulled away, breathless.

As your eyes searched the face of your fiance, no trace of fear settled in either of your minds. You were joined in a love much deeper than any dark magic or fear could penetrate.

“I love you, Fred Weasley.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

taglist: send an ask to be added or removed (if your url is crossed out I couldn’t tag you)

@starlightweasley @valwritesx @harrysweasleys @inglourious-imagines @cappsikle @levylovegood @gloryekaterina @wolfstarsdaughter20 @charlieswanwhore @loony-loopy-lupinn @siriuslyceleste @fleursirvart @gcdricreads @slytherinsunrise @lupinsclassroom @oh-for-merlins-sake @riddikulusweasleys @danaweasley @phuvioqhile @ickle-ronniekins @amourtentiaa @lumos-barnes @freds-slut @spacexcowgirl @an2402lths @solare19 @cherryweasleys @hvstias @nicodoesntexist @j-mak @cityofstaars @parkeroffline @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @acciosiriusblack @hufflepuff5972 @theweasleyslut @georgeweasleysbiggestfan @cedwardcullen @thisismynerdyself @rubyroscoe1 @hufflepuffalice @serrendipiity @riddikulus--remus @hey-there-angels @theweasleytwinsgirl @famdomhideout @steadysuitenthusiast @alrightyaphrcdite @nctxrejects @canibeoneofthepogues @bwbatta @omghufflepuff @nerdishkiwii

#kai’s1.kwc #fw #fred weasley #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine

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startanewdream · 4 years ago

Note

heyyyy, i was wondering if u could write something about james and sirius finding out about harry telling snape "theres no need to call me sir professor" its just the most iconic line from the books and i always thought james and Sirius would be v proud of harry and find it absolutely hilarious if they found out😭🤣

Heeeey! Now, there is no way I truly could make justice for this perfect line, but please enjoy this short homage to one of the best scenes ever, set during Christmas of Year 6.

___________________

Being a parent (means no fun)

Harry is wrapping a gift in his room when James knocks on the open door, holding a pile of clothes.

‘Fresh clothes’, he announces.

‘Can you leave on the bed? I will sort it out later’.

‘Sure — late Christmas gift?’, James asks, distracted.

‘Yeah, I — yeah’. There is something in his voice that makes James pause. He looks at the gift Harry just finished wrapping. He doesn’t know what it is, but the tag reads Ginny in a flourish caligraphy he never sees Harry using.

Hmmm. If only Harry would admit it, he thinks, but he just presses his lips, not saying anything. They — well, Lily — had agreed not to mention anything about his crush until their son talks about it first.

Harry leaves the gift on his desk with a guilty expression, avoiding his father’s eyes, and goes to pick up the clothes in his bed. James sits lazily on the couch by the window, waiting patiently. They are alone in his room — if Harry is looking for the best moment to confess his crush, this is it.

But the minutes drag on without Harry saying anything and his hope diminishes; Harry seeks really concentrated on sorting his clothes between what he is going to take back to Hogwarts and what he will keep at home. When he disregards his dress robes, James finds an opening.

‘So, how was old Slug’s party?’

‘Hum, what?’, Harry asks, looking flustered for some reason. ‘Good, I don’t know. Luna was fun, but it’s not my kind of party’.

‘Slughorn has invited you to his little club?’

‘Yeah’.

‘I figured so. He wouldn’t lose the chance of collecting you’.

Harry shudders. ‘Everyone wants the Chosen One?’, he asks, in a feeble attempt at a joke.

James smiles anyway. ‘Mostly because of who your mum is. You think I love her? You haven’t seen how Slughorn worships her’.

Harry laughs now. ‘Yeah, I’ve noticed it. He keeps comparing me to her’.

‘Wow, that’s a compliment if I've ever seen one’.

Again Harry looks flustered. His lips tremble as if he is on the verge of saying something, but he turns his gaze away. ‘My grades have gotten better’, he says nonchalantly. ‘But then Slughorn is a professor a lot better than Snape’.

‘It helps when your professor doesn’t hate you on principle’, James agrees, making Harry grin. ‘How are Slug’s dinners? Ginny is a member too, right?’

Harry lets the sock he is folding slip from his hand. He dives under the bed and emerges with his ears very red; James presses his lips again. Sometimes it’s really hard to stay quiet.

‘I — I don’t know. Maybe I should… if only Hermione wasn’t — I mean, Ginny is a member, but I haven’t been in any of Slughorn’s dinner’, he admits, sounding really miserable with the fact.

‘No?’, James asks, surprised. ‘How come? Your mother used to love these dinners’.

‘Oh, I —’, he rolls his eyes. ‘Ron can’t go, so I usually schedule a practice for the same night, you know. If I am not on detention with Snape, that’s it’.

Another rolling of eyes, with more disdain this time.

James sighs. Be the parent, he tells himself.

‘Detention, Harry? I know Snape is not —’

‘He hates me’, Harry notes indifferently. ‘Nothing will change it, why bother? And in any case, it was worth it’.

There is a glint shining on his eyes now, so mischievous that almost seems wrong to be on the eyes he inherited from Lily. It’s a much more marauder’s glint.

James saw it a lot of times in his reflection on the mirror, always on Sirius’ face and even in Remus’ eyes, as innocent as he pretended to be.

‘What did you do?’

‘Oh, first class of DADA. He tried to hex me, I defended myself, and he got snape-ish, asking me if I had heard him saying we should practice non-verbal spells. I told him that yes and...’

‘And?’, he presses when Harry stays quiet, smirking more than ever.

‘And he answered me “yes, sir”, you know, all bossy, so I told him there was no need to call me sir’.

James’ lips tremble.

Don’t laugh, he orders himself. You are the parent. You can’t support him being cheek with a professor.

But it’s Snape.

Still, you are the adult here.

He is a git.

Since when does this matter?

He deserved it.

Of course he did, that’s not the point.

Harry’s answer was really good.

With Lily as his mother, what did you expect?

Lily will approve it.

No, she won’t.

Not out loud. But her son being sassy? She will be proud. Why can’t I be proud? Please? Just a little?

You are proud, you just can’t show it. You are the parent here.

Being a parent is not fun.

Took you 16 years to figure this out?

James closes his eyes, pinching his nose and urging himself not to show any emotion at all.

Be the parent. Be the parent. Be the parent.

‘You will be all year in detention if you don’t control your tongue’, he mumbles, voice weak.

‘Snape doesn’t control himself, why should I?’, Harry asks, and when James opens one eye he sees his son crossing his arms.

Be the parent.

‘Because it will make your life easier’, James says, raising. ‘Well, I’ll let you rest. We leave tomorrow morning to the Burrow’.

‘Okay’, Harry shrugs.

James walks away calmly , closing the door to Harry’s room. He goes to his own room, closing the door as well; he picks up his wand and casts a Silence Charm on the door.

Then he allows himself to laugh.

______________

‘And then’, James says, tears of joy escaping from his eyes, ‘he told Snape there was no need to call him sir’.

‘Oh, Merlin!’, Sirius cries, doubling over with laughter. ‘I wish I were there to watch it! The pure boldness!’

‘Can you imagine his face?’

‘Ohhh, he must have hated it! Cheek from a Potter?’

‘Don’t put this on me, it’s all Lily’.

‘What is my fault?’, Lily asks distractedly, entering the room. James’ smile dies. Ops. He doesn’t really want to share it with Lily — if she argues with Harry —

‘Harry’s cheekiness’, Sirius replies without any shame, offering her a goblet with eggnog. ‘He has James’ look, but your spirit’.

‘Tell me something I don’t know. Why this time?’

James throws a betrayed look at Sirius before sighing. ‘Lily, love, now don’t be mad, he already got a detention for it —’

She raises her eyebrows. ‘What Harry has done now?’

‘Well, you see, Snape was being his usual self —’

‘Oh, is the no need to call me sir, professor? He told me ages ago’.

James blinks. ‘You were not upset?’

‘Of course I was, I’m his mother, I had to be’. She drinks from her cup, that mischievous glint on her eyes too, complimented by the most kissable smirk James has ever seen on her lips. ‘But, really, I could not have retorted it better’.

James decides he can’t love her more than he does now.

‘Oh, James, Lily’, Sirius sighs, placing his arms around their shoulders, bringing them close and drying dramatically a tear from his eyes. ‘I’m so proud of you. You raised your son so well’.

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shysneeze · 4 years ago

Text

i solemnly swear i am up to no good (george weasley x reader)

request: what if one night the golden trio is look at the marauders map that the twins gave Harry and they see the reader and George sneaking around hogwarts and they ask George about it the next day? ~ anon

warnings: yo i don’t even think i swear in this one it’s a miracle, can’t think of anything else but Fred’s dramatics

authors note: this is the best porcastination I have ever tasted (fuck chemistry uno?) anyway, I hope this is what you were looking for anon and thank you for the request <3

...

It's a carefully constructed routine, one that George has perfected by now. He's worked out that Lee is always the last to fall asleep, and so the coast is always clear when he begins to snore, that he's safe to slip from his covers and creep down the stairs, by which point the common room is always empty and he's free to leave completely undetected.

He knows the corridors to avoid, the ones with the gossiping portraits and regular prefect patrols. He knows that McGonagall keeps her classroom lit through the night to discourage snooping students and that the ghost will turn a blind eye at most things, unless they're in a particularly bad mood.

He's thought it through perfectly, even if he does say so himself. In fact, he's not had an incident since the first night they met up, when Peeves decided to draw the attention of every sleeping painting in the vicinity, who awoke rather grouchy, and ready to take their complaints straight to Dumbledore until George convinced them he wouldn't let it happen to again.

Now, though, he's sure he's considered everything and he's rather smug with himself when he arrives at the kitchens. (Y/N) smiles at him when he arrives, already perched on one of the counter tops beside two mugs of hot chocolate.

"Still beat ya, Georgie." She grins.

"Right you." He teases. "You have no idea the expedition it is to get here without getting caught."

"Excuses, excus-"

He's kissing her before she can finish, her laughter vibrating against his lips until she recovers from the abruptness of it and is gathering a handful of his jumper and pulling him closer as she does every time.

They've thought of everything to keep it their own, their sacred routine and their special secret. They've eliminated every possible hiccup that could occur, they're sure of it. Everything always goes as plan and their relationship is kept protected in it's own little bubble, the way they like it.

"You're not still obsessing over that map."

The boys by the fireplace jumps at the sound of Hermione's voice, staring wide-eyed as she stands on the bottom of the girl's dorm's staircase with a disappointed frown. Harry clutches the map against his chest, as if it will anyway hide it from her.

"'Mione." Ron exhales. "You gave me a bloody heart attack!"

"What are you doing up?" Harry asks.

"I left my textbook down here." She informs. "You?"

"We're uh, checking to see if Flitwick is still in the hospital wing with the flu." Harry admits shamefully. "So we don't need to the do the homework..."

"Of course you are."

She comes forward with a sigh, dropping into the seat beside them. She can't help but be slightly curious on the matter, even with her already completed homework upstairs. The map is characteristically empty for the time of night, most people's names stationary in their dorms except from the occasional pacing teacher, still up marking, or the prefects on their rounds.

It's what makes the set of footsteps tiptoeing down an empty corridor so noticeable, George Weasley's name so stark on the otherwise empty stretch of enchanted parchment. Hermione frowns at it curiously and points.

"What is George doing?"

"Who knows." Ron shrugs. "Probably just setting up some sort of prank."

Hermione gives him an unconvinced look and drags her finger up to the Gryffindor tower, halting at the boys dorms, where Fred's name lies still where he is sleeping. Ron takes a minute to catch onto the implication.

"Then why is Fred not there either?"

"Maybe he's gone rogue?" Harry suggests.

"I doubt that."

They return to George as his inky footsteps lead further through the castle, looping through hidden corridors and secret passage ways methodically before arriving at the kitchen, where upon realisation, Hermione lets out a chuckle.

"Oh."

"What?" Ron frowns.

"Look who already in the kitchens." She explains.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)." Ron exhales. "What's he meeting up with her for?"

"Think about it, Ronald." Hermione smiles knowingly.

Ron's brows scrunch in confusion, looking expectantly to Harry, who seems to have already clued himself in and is grinning knowingly. Then his eyes begin to widen with realisation and Hermione nods.

"He can't be- with (Y/N)?" Ron gasps. "No..."

"Seems that way." Harry gives an amused smile.

"That smug git." Ron breathes. "I knew he was hiding something!"

Hermione lets out a soft laugh, soon followed by Harry. Thoughts of Flitwick's whereabouts long forgotten at this new information and it's implications. In the kitchens the pair's names have stilled together, oblivious to the secrets they've spilled.

George sips slowly at his coffee, willing it to make up for his late night with a burst of energy. Even through his tiredness, he's grinning to himself at the memories of the night before. His eyes search for (Y/N)'s across the room, finding them quickly, well practiced in the art of doing so. She’s nursing a cup of coffee in a similar way, and gives a knowing smile before dropping her gaze with a slight shake of her head.

Across the table, Ron watches the exchange with insider knowledge and scowls at his elder brother, a mixture of perplexed and impressed. Harry nudges him warningly, but wears a knowing sort of smirk that George catches from the corner of his eyes and causes him to grow slightly uneasy from.

"What?" He asks.

"Nothing." Harry assures, coughing out a laugh. "Nothing, George."

"Alright..."

He attempts to return to his breakfast when he hears Ron snigger, rounding back on them with a frown. Hermione lifts her glass to her lips to hide her smile, only adding to George confusion. Fred's picked up on it too now, watching their little brother and his friends curiously.

"What are you lot so smug about?" Fred asks.

"That's what I'd like to know." George agrees with a frown.

George watches as Ron's eyes drift across the room towards same place as his had a moment ago, to (Y/N). George's jaw slackens ever so slightly, alerting Fred to this new development, also glancing over at the girl. (Y/N) isn't blind to this new attention, lifting her eyes to meet theirs and frowning in concern.

"Shut up." George tells Ron sternly. "Don't say anything."

"What?" Fred frowns. "What are you on about, George?"

George fixes Ron with a glare whilst also trying to figure out how he's come to know this information. He's so sure he'd considered everything, yet his brother is grinning at him like he's just won the lottery for best blackmail material possible.

Then, from the corner of Harry's robes, he recognises the aged parchment that he and Fred gave the boy themselves. He finds himself gulping and his cheeks growing warmer by the second as Harry chuckles at him.

"What the hell is going on?" Fred ask sharply, growing agitated at being left out of the loop. "What has (Y/L/N) got to do with it?"

Ron last two seconds before he's blurting it out despite George's pleading look.

"George met up with (Y/N) in the kitchen's last night."

"Merlin..." George groans.

"What!?" Fred bursts loudly. "You what?"

George groans and drops his head into his hands as Fred stares wide-eyed and betrayed. George should have considered the map, the most damning piece of evidence there could be, that no perfect timing and strategic route planning could save them from.

"You absolute git!" Fred exclaims, punching his twins arms. "You've got yourself a girlfriend and didn't tell me!"

"Ah!" George exclaims, sitting up to rub his arm soothingly. "No need for violence!"

"Uh, yeah there is!" Fred argues. "How long has this been going on?"

"I don't know- a few weeks?" George offers.

"A few week-" Fred gasps. "And Ron knew before me?"

"I didn't exactly plan that." George defends. "Harry's got the bloody map."

"Wow." Fred folds his arms. "You think you know someone."

"Oh come off it, Fred." George groans. "I would've told you eventually."

"Eventually." Fred scoffs. "I'm your brother- your twin! I should have been told the minute it started!"

George runs his finger through his hair with a sigh and gives Fred a sheepish look, although it does nothing to appease his twin's sour look. He's nice enough to feel somewhat guilty for it, even with his brother's dramatics.

"Are you ashamed of your family George?"

That's when George clocks that he's just being a dramatic git. He rolls his eyes at his brother as he starts up with a rant on loyalty and brotherhood, hand on his heart like he's quoting Shakespeare.

"You'll get over it soon enough." George decides flippantly. "We just liked sneaking around."

"That's possibly the most goddamn boring excuse you could come up with." Fred announces disappointedly. "You just ruined my whole thing- I was hoping for something like she thought you were me the whole time and this was actually a case of identity theft."

"Sorry to disappoint." George smirks with a shrug. "But she thinks I'm the better looking twin."

"She's clearly blind."

"Listen, I'm sorry I didn't tell you all." George sighs. "It started as an accident and then we just kind of got used to it."

"Wow, romantic." Fred jokes.

"Shut up." George scoffs. "It's not everyone's idea of a nice date but it's ours and we like it."

Fred smiles quite genuinely at this, the defensiveness in his brother's tone.

"You really like her." He observes. "Huh?"

George's eyes drift unsubtly towards the girl in question, where his smile widens at seeing her with that smile he's so used to feeling on his lips when they kiss. He chuckles to himself before turning back to his brother.

"Yeah, yeah I do."

"Then I'm happy for you." Fred decides, clapping his brother's shoulder. "But ever keep anything like this from me again and your twin status is revoked."

"Noted." George grins. "Oh, and Ron?"

Ron gulps at the change in his brother's tone.

"Yeah?"

"I'd be checking your shoes for spiders for a while mate."

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george x reader #george weasley imagine #Fred and George imagine #george imagine #weasley twins #weasley twins imagine #fred weasley #harry potter #harry potter fanfics #fred and george

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spxllcxstxr · 4 years ago

Text

Date Night • The Marauders

(Gif not mine)

Request: Maybe like a poly!marauders x (she/her) reader where they just spend a day together :) like you can write smut If you’d like, but yea maybe they can go out to eat id like to see a dynamic in a poly relationship w them. Thank you!! Love your writing <3 — anon

Summary: Date nights are rare, but tonight, you go out for ice cream with your partners

Warnings: Food and eating!! The entire fic is about eating, so please stay safe! If you have a peanut allergy no you don’t. Also, if you’re lactose intolerant like me, uhhhh pretend there’s a potion for that I guess, kinda implied first Wizarding war, smallest hint of steaminess

Word Count: 1.6k

A.N: Remus=Ross, James=Chandler, Sirius=Joey, right? This took me like weeks to finish...but overall I kinda like it. Let me know what you think, and love you all ❤️

****

The four of you very rarely had free time.

Between missions and meetings, you and your partners almost never had time off, and even when you did, one of you would still be busy. One of you would still be undercover or stuck debriefing the latest mission with Mad-Eye for hours.

So it’s weird to find yourself situated on the couch, Sirius’ head resting on your lap and Remus on the other end, stuck with his feet. James shuffles around in the kitchen behind you, stuck with dish duty after almost setting your flat on fire.

Sirius snuggles deeper into your thigh, evidently still exhausted from the previous day’s mission he was tasked with.

The flat is mostly quiet, the only sounds coming from Remus turning the pages of his novel and the ceramic plates clashing together as they get put away. The sun slowly sets outside, basking your living room in glowing orange in light.

You run your fingers through the mess of dark curls splayed out on your lap, always lustrous and soft to the touch. He hums deeply in approval.

A sharp clap from behind jolts you out of your peaceful thoughts.

You crane your neck to watch as James throws on his denim jacket.

“I believe that we,” He starts, eyeing the three of you. “deserve a date night.”

Instantly, a smile grows across your face. The last time the four of you had a proper date night, it was 1979 and Queen had just released a new song, which meant that Sirius needed to celebrate with all of you at the pub getting absolutely pissed.

Since you all joined the Order, all your free time has been sucked down the drain.

So that’s why the mere suggestion of the normally elusive date night makes you feel all giddy inside. You would’ve gotten up from your comfortable position to throw your coat on if it wasn’t for Sirius practically securing you to the cushions.

“But James...” He groans.

“Oh c’mon, Pads, we haven’t been on a proper date since—“

“Last year.” Remus interjects, shutting his book before placing it onto the coffee table. “But then again, you were too drunk for it to actually be considered a date.”

“Don’t blame me, blame Freddie and his Merlin given voice.” Sirius muses, still laying on your thigh. His fingers dance around your kneecap.

Remus slowly eases himself off the couch, joining James by the front door.

“Fine.” You hear James shrug. “We’ll just leave you here to suffer while Remus, (Y/n), and I go out to Florean’s.”

This seems to grab his attention, because he perks up just enough for you to slide out of his grasp.

You end up at Remus’s side, clinging to his grey jumper as you excitedly pull on your shoes.

“Ice cream?” Sirius asks, pushing his hair behind his ears. “Without me?”

“It doesn’t have to be without you, Sirius.” You retort, sandwiched between James and Remus. “If you get your arse over here, we won’t have to leave you.”

“Alright, you’ve convinced me.” Sirius huffs, hands raised in mock surrender, dragging himself over to the front door.

He waves his wand, boots zipping out of the closet and slipping onto his feet, his dark leather jacket covering his white shirt on its own.

“What, are simple tasks too hard for you now?” Remus teases, lightly bumping his shoulder into Sirius’.

“We’ve got magic for a reason, Moons.” The shorter of the two rolls his eyes. “Might as well use it.”

Remus opens his mouth to retort but James swiftly interrupts their bickering.

“I swear to Godric Gryffindor himself, (Y/n) and I will leave both you gits here.”

There’s grumbling from the two of them, but it becomes garbled once James throws an arm around you and Apparates you to Diagon Alley.

Your brain feels like it’s spinning in your skull and your stomach tugs familiarly at your naval. Sure you’ve Apparated many many times before, but it’s simply not fun no matter what.

As per usual, Diagon Alley is loud. Children and drunkards laugh, spells and fireworks whizz passed your ears, people in heels trot across the cobblestone path.

It’s places like Diagon Alley that remind you why you love magic so much.

James’ arm is still heavy on your shoulders as you watch people in cloaks and tall hats rush by you.

There’s a startling crack behind you and you and James turn around to see your other partners. Sirius might have a few new purple bruises littered across his collar bones and Remus might have a smug look plastered across his face, but no one says anything. Remus throws the two of you a silent wink as Sirius hangs off of him.

“Gonna hold my hand, Moony?” James questions, his arm outstretched.

Remus eagerly takes it, fingers interlocking.

So the four of you are connected as you stroll down the street. Your face is buried into James’ denim jacket, the faint smell of grass stains and broom oil an already welcomed scent. In the middle, James and Remus have their shoulders rubbing together as they walk, James’ thumb most likely tracing figure eights between his knuckles like he always does. Lastly, it seems like Sirius had changed his position enough to stick a hand in Remus’ back pocket.

The sun continues to dip lower below the horizon, resulting in candles and lanterns being lit in every dark corner. Children are ushered inside homes and adults start to flock towards the pubs.

With the looming threat of dark and dangerous wizards, people aren’t taking their chances, safety in numbers and safety indoors being popular within the village.

Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlor is lit up in a rainbow of colors as always, and the sweet scent of ice cream drifts through the air. People sit in crowds outside the shop, enjoying their treats on the sidewalk or some even spread out on the street.

“So what’re you going for today, Jamie?” You ask as your little group enters the shop.

A little bell sounds from above you, barely heard over the boisterous laughter and rowdy conversations that surround you.

Unlike you, Sirius, and Remus, James doesn’t have a signature flavor. He had to have a different kind every visit. So while Remus had already ordered his strawberries and cream in a waffle cone and Sirius is eyeing his peanut butter ice cream, James is still perusing his options like a little kid.

Your own ice cream starts to melt a bit while you’re waiting.

James squints his eyes at the names, despite his glasses already resting on the bridge of his nose.

“You haven’t done toffee apple in a bit, Prongs.” Sirius points, his finger making contact with the cool glass barrier.

“You’re right.” James hums. “Thanks.” He presses a quick kiss to Sirius’ stubbled cheek before ordering his ice cream.

There’s a small open table across the way, lit up by a few lanterns, which the four of you claim.

There’s a very slight breeze that makes you cuddle up to Remus’ soft jumper.

Desperate to talk about something other than the current state of affairs, James gets caught up talking the Wimbourne Wasps and their new Beater, Ludovic Bagman.

You watch Sirius, tongue poking ever so slightly out of the corner of his mouth, try to sneak a scoop of James’ ice cream while he’s distracted.

Attempting to hide your amusement, you bring a hand up to cover your mouth, feigning interest in the Quidditch talk.

You watch the spoon make an indent and it’s halfway to Sirius’ mouth before—

“Oi!”

The silver spoon freezes abruptly, and grey eyes widen significantly.

“Is that why you suggested toffee apple? So you could nick some of my bloody ice cream?” James gasps dramatically, mouth agape in shock.

“Where’re your manners, James?” Sirius retorts, licking his spoon. “Sharing is caring.”

His hazel eyes narrow. “I don’t know, Black, that looked more like thievery to me.”

“Well let’s take it to our very own Wizengamot, then.” Sirius loudly gestures to you and Remus.

“Well I’m sure that for a wee bit of ice cream, (Y/n) and I, as key witnesses to the whole event, can clear the air.” Remus smirks, biting into his cone.

Sirius swiftly pushes the rest of his ice cream across the table, not even trying to be discrete about his offering. You and Remus start to dig in.

“Bribery!” James shouts, throwing his arms up in the air in exasperation. “This trial is a load of bullshit!”

“Sorry James, can’t hear you over how good this is.” Remus remarks with his mouth full.

You lick your spoon, watching the theatrics.

“That doesn’t even make sense!” James straightens his glasses and runs a hand through his hair in playful frustration.

“Aw, Jamie...you want some of mine?” You pout, offering some of your own frozen dessert.

“At least someone at this table loves me.” James grumbles, sticking a spoon into your bowl.

Sirius sticks his tongue out.

“Hey, I never said Sirius was cleared of all charges.” Remus raises a scarred brow.

“What?” Sirius snaps. “But I bribed you!”

You snicker at his balled up fists.

“So you admit to the bribery, you might as well admit to the thievery while you’re at it.” He finishes the bowl, licking the last of it from his spoon.

“Oh how the tables have turned.” James smugly points out.

Sirius childishly pouts, opting to pick at his black painted fingernails.

“We should have date nights more often.” James chuckles, clinking your spoons together.

•

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco @mullthingsoverinthehotwater

#the marauders x reader #the marauders #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #the marauders fanfiction #James potter fluff #sirius black fluff #remus lupin fluff #james potter imagine #sirius black imagine #remus lupin imagine #tw food #tw food mention

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slytherinnbitch · 3 years ago

Text

Day 26: Accident

when harry woke up in a hospital bed for the millionth time, his first thought was hermione is going to kill me. and it was true because hermione had threatened to do exactly that if he landed himself in the hospital yet again.

but when he finally opened his eyes, there’s no red or bushy brown hair in sight. just the pale blond one which belonged to the prat he hated the most. Draco Fucking Malfoy. and for some reason he looked relieved to see Harry. that couldn’t possibly be right. because draco hated harry with passion and he would have been happy if he died-

“Merlin, Harry, gave me a right scare. can’t you play one game without getting injured or is that too fucking much for you?” draco asked, and while the words and the tone of his voice were in perfect contradiction; one thing was clear. Malfoy was concerned about Harry. but that was something he would focus upon on some another moment when his mind wasn’t full of some half a billion questions. starting with what in merlin’s name was malfoy doing here?

“Malfoy, what the fuck are you doing here? he asked, annoyance clear in his voice. and because he couldn’t help himself he asked the other question which was burning a hole in his brain, “what game are you talking about?”

as far as harry was concerned, he had last played in hogwarts, although he did still participate in some of the impromptu Weasley weekly sunday matches but he doesn’t think Draco knew about that. harry’s words seemed to stop malfoy in his tracks. he frowned at harry, then he stared into his eyes for a long time before harry looked away.

“uhm, okay. Ha-Potter, could you tell me what year this is?” malfoy asked, did he really think harry to be so dumbheaded that he would forget the year.

“malfoy, do you really be asking me that? don’t you have better work to do? or did your small brain forget the date?” harry scoffed. malfoy was undetered, he asked harry the same question again, as if he hadn’t even heard harry’s words.

“ugh, you’re so annoying. its January 2001, unless i was unconsious for more than two weeks, then it would be february 2001.” harry replied, and the fuck was he alone? that too with malfoy to keep him company. he was about to ask just that when malfoy said-

“i’ll contact hermione and ron. just- sit here and try not to break anything or get out of bed.”

“and who would you be to comand me that?” harry challenged, like seriously what right did the poncy git have?

“as your appointed healer, if nothing else.” malfoy replied before leaving his private hospital room.

"okay so it's 2011 and I have somehow forgotten ten years of my life. So what's up with me right now then? Senior Auror? Please don't tell me I went for Minister!" Harry tried to joke, it wouldn't do good to panic now afterall. "and however did I end up here? Malfoy mentioned something of a game?"

Ron and Hermione share a look. Harry always hated when they did that, especially after they got together.

"and why did you both allow Malfoy to be my healer? What were you both even thinking?" he added because he can't help but feel slightly betrayed by his friends. Malfoy entered at that exact moment, nosy git that he is, can't let people have some privacy.

"so does he know then? Doesn't look like it," Malfoy claimed, and Harry wanted to strangle him because he was aware that the he was him.

"harry was just asking about his job, and ... other prospects of life." Ron said, looking back and forth between Harry and Malfoy.

"well, I would be going really blunt now because reg would be wanting answers soon." Malfoy motioned his hands around as if whatever he said made sense and who was this reg person even?

even if Malfoy had appeared confident just a moment ago, he took a deep breath before he started, looking determinant, "you're a professional quidditch player. You resigned from the aurors about nine years ago and have been persued by various teams, and have changed teams twice. You now are the main seeker for Puddlemere United. You got hit pretty hard by a bulger before losing consciousness. And then here we are two days later. Does that answer your questions?" Malfoy asked calmy, it's a lot to take in. Well, Harry never fancied being a Auror all that much after defeating that noseless bastard so it's a good decision on his part. He wondered how he came to the decision.

But more importantly, he still had plenty questions let, "who are you? I know your name, malfoy. I am curious to your status in my life." Harry asked and by the look on Hermione and Ron's face and pain reflecting on Malfoy's, he wondered what was so wrong about it.

"Harry, I must have forgotten to tell you. I'm the Minister now. And Ron became head auror just six months back! don't you think that's incredible?" Hermione asked but Harry knew when a topic was being changed pretty well.

"it's no use stopping the inevitable, Mione. He would know eventually and I rather face it myself firsthand. Would be the best route for my heart, you know?" Malfoy said sadly. As if he had something to be sad about, Harry scoffed mentally at that. And what ths fuck? Mione? Not only was Malfoy on first name basis but he also called his best friend by their nicknames? What had the world turned to?

"We are married, Potter. And no, I haven't used any illegal or inauthentic means to achieve it. We have been together for the almost nine years now. And married for the past six." Malfoy said in one breath and what the actual motherfucking fuck?

"Yeah, right. So what's the real shit?" Harry snorted because malfoy might have a humor but this was so fucking far from the truth that it was downright ridiculous.

"Draco is telling the truth, Harry. You both are married." Ron said, and are these people alright? Harry was getting worried.

"what did he do to the two of you as well? What kind of potion did you use? Or is it a spell? Tell me, Malfoy. How have you been doing it for what did you say? Nine years, yeah?" Harry sneered. Malfoy's face shattered, as it should. He had been caught afterall.

"Draco..." Hermione started but Malfoy quickly put up his hand.

"I can't, not right now. It's fine, Mione. Don't worry about me." Malfoy said with a broken voice. Harry had never seen Malfoy showing this kind of emotion publicly before, but Harry didn't care.

"oh, and if we are actually married. I would like a divorce, immediately if possible. You can take whatever you want from my vaults if you want, if money is what you have been after. Reckon you wouldn't need much, what with your family fortune but I guess some people are never satisfied." Harry taunted because that's what he knew best, even if Malfoy looked like he was on the verge of crying.

"are you sure you want that? You won't regret it when you get your memories back?" Malfoy asked slowly.

"oh, absolutely. I think my actual self would be actually thankful. And please do this as soon as possible." Harry requested, although his tone showed anything but.

"very well, Potter. If that's what you wish for, then that's what you get. Don't say I didn't warn you," Malfoy said one last time. Harry just snorted at that.

Ron looked torn between shocked and upset and Hermione was actually crying. She started protesting but Draco just shook his head and smiled at her.

"I always knew this dream would break, mione. I'll be fine. I have reg." Draco sighed before he came to stnd directly infront of Harry.

"break the bonds then, the certificate would already be produced after we do that. I'll contact the advocate right after." Draco put forward his hand and Harry hesitated for a bit before putting their hands together. The touch was familiar, the skin soft and tender. Harry didn't even dwell on that for more than a second.

Malfoy spoke a foreign language, although Harry did catch a few Latin words in there as well. He didn't really care, but when Malfoy finally extracted his hand. Harry gasped loudly, his heart felt lighter and there was a whole comfortable weight on his shoulders that was gone. He didn't like that feeling even one bit.

Malfoy silently wiped the tears in his eyes, as if that was insignificant. He stared at Harry for a long time, to the point that Harry started feeling uncomfortable.

"well, goodbye Potter." Draco said atlast and Harry just lifted an eyebrow and sneered at him. He gave a sad smile to Harry's bestfriends as well. Then, malfoy actually hugged both of them, together.

When they pulled apart, he said, "don't worry, you both. He is not my Harry anyway. I'll be fine." Malfoy didn't look fine and even Harry could tell that.

"what about reg?" Hermione asked. Seriously, who was this reg?

"I'll be taking him with me. Or since ha-potter is the one who is leaving. Reg would be staying with me."

Draco then smiled, Harry didn't like that look one bit, he looked at Harry through his red eyes and said, "i must have forgotten to mention but I'll make sure Regulus stays with me. What with you being unable to even remember him. I'm sure I would have no problem at all. And don't even try otherwise. Consequences would be deadly." Harry shivered at the words but still, didn't understand who Regulus was. The only Regulus he knew was Sirius's brother and he was long dead.

"Potter, Regulus is, Regulus Malfoy-Potter is our son. Or I should say my son." malfoy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "and don't even try contacting him by anymeans before- no even after you have gained your memory back. Because trust me it will, and it won't be pretty. I don't want my child to go through anything that would cause him trauma, and trust me when your own dad can't remember you, that's going to fuck up anyone's mind real bad, especially for a one and half year old." Malfoy spat out.

Harry could still hear some words ringing in his mind. Child? He had a child? He was a dad? He had to-

"Your rings, Potter." Malfoy out forward his hand, Harry frowned at it.

Malfoy finally gestured at his left hand and he say it, a solid but thin band of gold with small diamonds encrusted. It looked perfect. Just what Harry would have wanted for himself. Did he choose the ring himself then? Not detered, he slid the ring out of his finger. It was with some struggle but it came out atlast. But malfoy was still standing with his hand open.

"what now?" Harry asked, irritatedly.

"the family ring." Malfoy coldly stated. Oh, he then noticed the Malfoy family ring on his tiny finger of his right hand. He practically threw that into Malfoy's hands. Who wanted to be even near that thing?

Malfoy's hand pulled into a tight fist and Harry noticed that he still had a wedding band. So of course, Harry asked, "what about the ones you are wearing?"

"what about them?" Malfoy inquired and Hermione asked at the same time Hermione cried out, "harry, can you please not?"

Harry ignored her and lifted his eyebrows at malfoy again, "well if you take away the ones I had. It's only fair, I get those back."

Malfoy's eyes flashed angrily before the icy facade was back on, "i didn't want dissolve the marriage. I have no obligation to return the rings. And even if I did, I won't. My Harry gave them to me afterall." Malfoy said coldly, but his voice broke at the end.

"and the child-"

"nothing of it. Regulus is my son and he'll be known as such from now on. I would like to see you try otherwise." Malfoy basically growled. Then he gave one mock salute to Harry and turned his back to them and strode out of the room.

The three of them sat in silence for thirty more seconds before Hermione got up, mumbled something about Draco and left the room hurriedly. Ron took off soon after.

He patted Harry on his shoulder and said, "mate that wasn't good. You're going to regret it." Ron had said it with such conviction that it had Harry frowning for several minutes.

In the empty hospital room, with no one but himself to provide company, he felt a strange sensation of dread creep up. He looked down on his ring finger and the slightly lighter skin tone seemed to taunt him.

Harry felt extremely lost, again.

Day 25: Battle || Day 27: Babysitting

Part 2

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shes-a-gryffindor · 3 years ago

Text

Hypothetically

Just a feel good one-shot, with a bit of Jily fluff and lots of Marauder banter.

As the air grew steadily warmer and the stress of exams seemed to melt away, the end of their schooling loomed ever nearer; until, as if all at once, the weeks had come and gone and they were sat in The Three Broomsticks, having a final drink as students of Hogwarts.

From a table in the middle of the crowded haze of the pub, Sirius Black’s voice could be heard over the raucous laughter of his friends… “No really, hear me out,“ he said, “she’s the type you can tell used to be sort of fit in her day.”

Lily choked on her drink mid-sip, Remus shook his head in amused exasperation and Peter was doubled over the table in a fit of giggles.

“I suppose McGonagall does fit the bill,” said James through his own laughter.

“Ah Prongs, a man after my own heart!” Exclaimed Sirius, clapping James’s back, “see... he gets it,” he added, looking smugly at the rest of them before taking a sip of his beer.

“Yeah, I get it,” said James, nodding earnestly, “Pads doesn’t mind ‘em stern and a little scary, do you Pads?” Then looking pointedly at the other three added, “ mummy issues,” causing Peter, who’d only just recovered from his last bout of giggles, to dribble a mouthful of Butterbeer down his chin, sending them all into a fresh fit of laughter.

“Gits,” said Sirius, scowling half-heartedly at them before laughing in spite of himself and downing the last of his beer; setting his empty glass back down with a thud, Sirius smacked his lips. “Right,” he said, “anyone up for a stretch of the legs?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” said Lily, downing the last of her drink as well, “… looks like Slughorn’s requested another song from the band and I don’t fancy another round of karaoke, d’you?”

“Absolutely not,” agreed Remus, so with the scraping of chairs against stone and the clattering of sickles and knuts being left on the table, they weaved their way through the crowd of tables and out into the village of Hogsmeade.

Filing out one after another onto the cobbled street, they began walking aimlessly along the path towards the far end of the village. It was a gloriously warm day, the sky was scattered with only faint wisps of cloud and the sun beamed happily down onto the thatched cottages and bustling shops, picturesque as ever.

Sirius and Peter made a game of trying to step on the each other’s heels, dancing around one another and occasionally running ahead, Remus strolled casually behind them, hands in his pockets and Lily and James trailed along last, James with an arm hanging loosely around Lily’s shoulders, talking and laughing as they went.

“I’m going to miss it here you know,” mused Lily, as they passed by a group of younger students excitedly rummaging through their shopping.

“You won’t get a chance to miss it too much, we’ll still come here all the time,” James responded, smiling down at her.”

“Oh will we ?”

“Well, you didn’t think we’d be spending all our time at the Cokeworth pub, did you?” He teased.

“Hey!” Laughed Lily, elbowing him playfully, “Cokeworth has… it’s charm,” she said, sounding rather like she didn’t much believe it herself.

“The only charm Cokeworth has, is you love,” he responded.

“James,” she groaned through more laughter, “you got me, I’m dating you, please enough with the awful pickup lines.”

“Never.” He said, grinning that lone-dimpled grin she loved, before pulling her closer to swiftly kiss her through her smile.

“Keep up lovebirds!” Sirius yelled out to them.

The bustle of the village was now behind them and a wide, beaten grass track replaced the cobbled stone of the street. The cottages that lined either side of the track were becoming fewer and farther between and they seemed to be walking steadily downhill.

“Where are we actually going?” Asked Lily.

“We’re going, Evans, to a rather special little spot,” Sirius told her, a smirk playing at his lips.

“Special?” She said questioningly; James’s lips were now also tugging at the corners.

“Here we go,” sighed Remus.

“Well, if you must know,” Sirius began, “I happened upon this particular spot whilst looking for a bit of… privacy,” an insolent grin now spread across his face, “brought many a sexual conquest here in our day, eh Prongs?” He finished, winking at Lily.

“Right… so just each-other then,” she responded before James could interject.

Sirius pushed her playfully into James, his bark-like laughter drowning out the others.

They continued much in the same fashion until finally, they reached a low, cobbled wall lined with coarse, unkempt grass; walking along it until they came to a very old, very splintered stile. Sirius stepped over the first few rungs before leaping over to the other side and the others followed suit.

It was easy to see why privacy had been the main selling point of this particular spot; the wall was alarmingly eroded, with chunks of stone jutting out it looked on the verge of collapse. The thick, thorny brambles that flanked either side of them created somewhat of an alley, opening up to a desolate clearing that stretched out of their line of sight, eventually turning up into hilly mountains.

“Charming,” said Lily, her cheery tone dripping with sarcasm.

Sirius, obviously unaffected by her assessment, simply winked at her. “Make yourselves at home,” he said before slumping down onto the grass to lean against the decrepit wall.

Peter sat on the lowest rung of the stile while the others slumped down next to him, joining Sirius on the grass. Lily sat with her legs crossed over James’s and Remus on her other side sat next to Sirius, who was wrestling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

“Should we be worried? You’re not planning on snogging us all are you?” Asked Remus with mock concern.

“This,” Sirius began, flipping open the packet, “is why we’re here,” and he pulled out what looked like a cigarette with its top twisted off.

“Where’d you get that!?” Asked Peter.

“You know I have a certain talent for sniffing these things out Wormy,” he responded.

Peter and James chortled, “Wow,” said Lily, “that is some James tier humour, Black,” making Remus laugh now too. James looked at her with feigned offence.

“Put it away before it’s confiscated Padfoot,” he told Sirius, smirking and nodding in Lily’s direction.

“Pfft” scoffed Lily, and with a mischievous grin, snatched the joint from between Sirius’s fingers.

“Lighter, Black,” she demanded, holding out her hand.

Sirius obliged, tossing it to her.

Pressing the joint between her lips before lighting it, she took an exaggeratedly long drag. All four boys stared at her incredulously. Removing it from her lips, she held her breath momentarily, winking at Sirius before turning to blow the smoke at James.

Sirius whooped and snatched the joint back from her, before taking a drag himself.

James was still staring, a little dumbstruck, at Lily, “Merlin you’re sexy,” he told her.

“Oh please don’t ruin smoking for me” groaned Sirius, handing the joint to Remus.

“You’ve already ruined it for me,” mumbled Remus with the joint now between his lips, “for all I know you’ve shagged some poor bird in this exact spot,” he said, gesturing to the patch of grass on which he was sitting.

“Nah, not there,” responded Sirius in earnest, waving a hand dismissively, “I have there though,” he added, gesturing with his thumb to where Peter was sitting.

“Ergh!” Peter jumped away from where he was sitting to slump against the wall next to a laughing James.

“Don’t be such a prude Wormy,” said Sirius, grinning lazily.

“Can we talk about anything else,” said Lily, trying to stifle her own laughter.

“Please,” agreed Remus.

“All right then… I’ve got a hypothetical question,” said James, blowing smoke out the corner of his mouth, “say, hypothetically, there’s no war�� you have your pick of anything after Hogwarts, and, hypothetically, Auror is off the table… what are you doing?”

There was a moment of silence before Lily asked, “is this hypothetical?” The boys hooted with laughter. The effects of the smoke having kicked in, everything was much funnier in their bleary state.

“Go on then,” chuckled James, taking another drag and passing the joint to Peter.

There was another moment of silence as they all considered it; then, with a stony look on his face Remus spoke first, “pretty sure... war or not, I’d have about as many options as I do now,” he said despondently, absentmindedly ripping clumps of grass from the ground.

Sirius and James exchanged a grimace, Lily however, smiled ruefully at Remus; squeezing his hand in her own, she rested her head on his shoulder, “come on Moony… hypothetically,” she said, pouting comically up at him in her best impression of James. James thought his heart might explode with love for her.

Remus smiled stoically back down at her, “well…” he sighed, allowing himself a moment of self-indulgence, more to appease the group than anything else “… I suppose I’ve always found my dad’s job interesting, Boggarts at least are fascinating…perhaps something like that.”

“You’re braver than I am Moony,” said Sirius, clapping him on the back, “couldn’t pay me enough to go looking for one of them fucking things,” he added with an exaggerated shudder.

“Can’t face a Boggart, but you’ll go running ‘round with a Werewolf once a month,” he responded sarcastically.

Sirius rolled his eyes, “you fold your underwear and you won’t eat a meal without tucking a little napkin into your collar…yeah Moony, you’re a real monster,” he jeered, before continuing, “I reckon I’d fancy something like The Three Broomsticks, like old Rosmerta… y’know a pub, open my own...”

“I can see that,” said Lily, picturing in her mind’s eye a too-charismatic-for-his-own-good Sirius getting into all sorts of trouble in his own pub, “you’d be a right menace to society behind a bar though, with all that free alcohol,” she added.

“As opposed to the perfect angel he usually is,” sniggered James.

“Fair point,” she agreed, laughing.

Sirius appeared to still be musing over the idea, staring hazily into the distance he mumbled, “could call it Hair of The Dog or something…”

They roared with laughter, “that’s actually not bad,” spluttered James between coughs.

“And you Prongs? What are your hypothetical post-Hogwarts aspirations,” Remus asked.

“I’ll venture a wild guess… something quidditch related?” Said Lily, grinning at him.

“Reckon I’d be a shoo-in for the Cannons,” he answered, grinning cockily, “… or England for the cup,” he added.

“At least he’s modest,” said Lily, ruffling his hair the way he usually did himself.

“All right Head Girl, Slug Club protégée, potions extraordinaire… what’s life after Hogwarts look like for you then?” He teased, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

She weaved a hand through his at her shoulder and thought for a moment before answering, “a Healer perhaps, or a Mediwitch… think I’d be good at that,” she said conclusively.

“Very fitting” said James, smiling down at her, “although to be fair, you’d be good at anything you decided on,” he added.

Lily smiled warmly back at him before turning to Peter, who hadn’t yet given his answer. “What about you, Wormy?” She asked brightly.

Staring distractedly off into the distance, his eyes glassy and unfocused, Peter appeared to be deep in thought, “… We’re never coming back to school,” he said slowly, as if only just comprehending this fact.

They burst out laughing, jolting Peter back to the present, “caught on, have you?” said James, coherently as he could through his own hysteric laughter. Sirius was now howling, sprawled across the grass on his side, clutching his stomach.

When they’d finally managed to compose themselves, Peter was still looking ahead, his brow slightly furrowed, “I genuinely have no idea what I’d be doing…” he said quietly, more to himself than in response to the question, his eyes darting side to side as if he was beginning to panic a little.

“I think we’ve broken Wormtail,” laughed James.

“Blimey mate,” said Sirius, laughter edging back into his now voice too, “just as well a bunch of lunatics are trying to kill everyone then, or you’d have ended up polishing Prongs’s broom or something.”

Peter laughed half-heartedly along with them.

“Don’t listen to him Wormy,” said Lily, “he’s just jealous he doesn’t actually get to polish James’s broom …” she finished, using two fingers of each hand to draw imaginary quotation marks around the word 'broom', sending them into another bout of laughter.

They continued like this for a while, making jokes at each other’s expense and laughing much too hard at things they ordinarily wouldn’t find nearly as funny; the minutes ticking on until there was no reprieve from the very bright sun that had sunken a little lower in the sky, blaring down on them.

Groaning and grumbling about how hungry they were, they began the trek back to the castle. Lily and James trailing behind again, hand in hand.

“Many a sexual conquest, eh?” Said Lily, grinning lazily.

“I’d hardly call them conquests… Sirius was just winding you up,” responded James, pinching her nose playfully.

“hmm... Personally I’ve always found the spot near the shrieking shack to be much better,” she said, “much more privacy.”

James laughed, pulling her closer again, “is that where all that howling's coming from? Merlin Lily, what have I been doing wrong?”

“Not funny!” Remus yelled over his shoulder.

Lily threw her head back in laughter and let go of James’s hand, skipping ahead to link arms with Remus, “oh, come on Moony!” She said playfully.

Watching her for a moment, stumble and laugh, arm in arm with his friends... James thought he very much knew exactly what he’d like to do after school. With or without a war.

#jily fluff #marauder fanfic #jily love #jily fanfiction #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #lily evans #peter pettigrew #the marauders #james potter x lily potter #james potter x lily evans #marauders and lily #jily fic #marauders fic #harry potter fanfic #marauder era

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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years ago

Text

black & white

request: from nonnie: ASDFGhjkl. Why are your fics so CUTE? 😭 Can I request a cute and cheesy George proposing to the fem!reader—and they’re wedding? 💜

desc: a love story unfolded via a timeline of events and colors. based on the song ‘black and white’ by niall horan

pairing: george x fem!reader

word count: 5.5k

warning(s): lil bit of angst, alcohol, some sexual content if you squint but it stops before things ~heat up~

A/N: this is just pure fluff. may or may not have cried at the cheesiness. idk. i’m a cheesy gal. can’t help it. i’m in love with a fictional character. sorry i went a tad overboard with this. also let’s pretend ~voldy~ doesn’t exist in this k? reminder that my requests are currently closed, i am merely working through the requests already in my inbox. i do not give permission for my work to be posted on any other platform.

Red

Red, hot fury swept through your bones as you watched him laugh hysterically alongside his brother. You balled your fists together, ready to throw a punch, but you knew your mum would lock you in your room until you were forty years of age if you even thought of throwing hands.

George Weasley was a pretentious little git. It was bad enough that he was your neighbour and you had to see him and his equally annoying twin in the village nearly every day, but what made it even worse was that for whatever reason, he’d chosen you to be on the receiving end of all of his pranks. His mother, Molly, was not for it -- she often gave her sons a solid tongue lashing, but it clearly never made an impact, for each and every day they were back to their normal mischief, seeking out ways to make you shake with anger.

“Weasley!” you squeaked as he and his brother ran back across the field toward their home. You loathed the idea of being in the same school as him in just two years time. At least here, at home, you could escape to your own house and your own room, far away from the boy who teasingly threw a red paint balloon all over you and your new dress. But at school, well -- the castle was only so big, wasn’t it? You weren’t sure how far away from him you’d be able to get.

You watched as he and Fred ran away, their giggles echoing through the air on top of the hill. You looked down at your ruined dress and screamed. You reckoned you’d never be able to love the colour red ever again -- not when it had ruined your beautiful purple dress, and especially when it was the colour of his annoying, messy hair.

Yellow

“I’m really sorry.”

He was standing across from you in the field. You thought about telling him that you needed to take four showers in order to get all of the red paint from your hair, and that your dress was permanently stained, but instead you folded your arms across your chest and huffed a bit. Not even magic could salvage it.

“I promise, I mean it,” he squeaked, as if he could read your mind. He seemed sincere, but he was always getting into all types of trouble, wasn’t he? Perhaps he was as good a liar as he was a pranker.

You kicked at the dirt, unsure of what to say. “You ruined my dress.”

“I know, I’m really sorry,” he said again, “it was all Freddie’s doing! I know he normally takes charge of pranks, but blimey, I told him it wasn’t a good idea.”

You arched your eyebrows up in surprise. “You did?”

“Yeah,” George told you. The wind ruffled the leaves on the tree next to you both, and you watched him tentatively as a big smile split his face. He wandered over to the tree trunk and picked at the flowers that were growing at the base. Then he turned around, marched right over to you, and handed them to you.

Yellow dandelions. You peered down at them, and then looked up at him in surprise. This wouldn’t fix your dress, but he was trying, at least. You noticed the dimples that appeared on his cheeks when he smiled. “Pretty flowers for a pretty girl.”

You couldn’t help it; you blushed and looked toward the ground. You picked a bit at the flowers and met George’s gaze once again. “You still owe me, Weasley.”

You both heard Molly calling him for dinner. “Okay, mum!” he called back, his voice echoing against the wind. He turned back toward you. “Promise. I owe you. I also promise to kick Fred’s arse since it was his idea anyway.”

A squeak of a giggle emitted from your lips and you watched as George Weasley skipped all the way home.

Blue

All of Ravenclaw house erupted into cheers as the colours of the Great Hall changed to celebrate the momentous occasion of your house winning the Quidditch Cup. It had been a neck to neck match against Gryffindor, but had you not caught the snitch before Harry, they would have had it in the bag for the third year in a row.

“At the risk of sounding like I’m pro Ravenclaw, I’ve got to say, you guys put up a great match,” you whirled around in the crowd and saw George standing in front of you. He had his hands in his pockets and he shrugged, clearly upset at a Gryffindor loss, but at least they hadn’t lost to Slytherin, right? “You really are a wicked Seeker.”

“Thanks, Weasley,” you said triumphantly, both pleased with yourself for winning but also feeling a little bit guilty for beating Gryffindor.

“When did you get so good anyway?”

“Hmm,” you placed your hand to your chin and pretended to be deep in thought, “do you mean, how did I get to be so incredible? I don’t have an answer for you, truthfully, reckon I was just born with it.”

Students filtered around you both, and you watched him laugh as blue confetti fell around the both of you and the rest of the Great Hall. Personally you thought it was a little much, but the captain had insisted. You met George’s gaze again though, and rolled your eyes.

“Oi, mate,” you heard Fred call. He reached his twin and threw an arm around his shoulders, “what’re you doing over here, conversing with the enemy?” You rolled your eyes yet again, something you found yourself doing quite often with the two of them, and Fred just grinned obnoxiously at you. “Only joking, Y/N. I suppose if anyone had to beat us, we’re glad it’s Ravenclaw. But if you repeat that, we’ll deny it, I swear to Merlin.”

“My lips are sealed, Freddie.”

You bid them both adieu before turning back to your house, celebrating and clinking your goblets of pumpkin juice together, and through the yelps and the cheers, you missed George say to Fred that he actually quite liked the way the Great Hall looked, all decorated in blue.

Orange

“How about you get to work on the ground Unicorn horn, and I’ll try and get this water crystalized?” you offered.

Today’s lesson was to brew the Oculus Potion, in the event any of you ever needed to restore someone’s sight. In an attempt to separate them, Snape had paired George with you and Fred with another Ravenclaw who didn’t look happy at all at the prospect of having him as her partner. You peered over the cauldron at George and said, “No worries. We’ve only got thirteen steps. I reckon if we keep at this without any distractions, we’ll be finished before the rest of class.”

“Better get cracking, then,” George replied.

The two of you worked in comfortable silence; you tensed a few times when Snape meandered by your table, peering down into your cauldron and scoffing, for you were certain that an attempt at any type of potion would never live up to his unrealistic expectations of two sixteen-year-olds.

A little while later, you realized that the heat emitting from all of the cauldrons was making the entire classroom incredibly warm. “Blimey, could he open a bloody window, or something?” you asked, ignoring the fact that there were absolutely no windows in the dungeons. George laughed and continued to add the crystalized water into your cauldron as you pulled your sweater over your head, leaving you in your white button down and blue and grey tie. You pulled your hair back off of your neck and said, “Alright, be sure to only add the water until it turns indigo, George.”

The poor lad hadn’t been paying attention, because your potion was far past indigo at this point. In fact, it looked as though it had turned a deep, navy blue, bordering on black, as George peered at you with soft eyes and continued to pour in the crystalized water, not realizing that he was messing up your carefully brewed potion. A snapping noise pulled him from his thoughts, and a slight explosion erupted from your cauldron and caused black smoke to cover George’s face and hair.

Most of the class began to laugh, but Snape angrily shushed them and sauntered over to the two of you, clearly giddy beyond belief that he was able to deduct points from both of your houses for causing such a ruckus in his precious dungeons. George wiped a bit of the soot from his forehead as you poured in the antidote and giggled.

“Merlin, I’m sorry -- didn’t mean to get points taken from your house.”

“Eh, it was bound to happen sooner or later.. don’t worry about it. Look! Good as new,” you clapped your hands together as the potion turned to the desired shade of orange before the final two steps. You met George’s look through the orange haze over your cauldron and asked him, “What had you so distracted anyway, Weasley?”

“Oh, erm -- nothing,” he replied a bit quickly. It didn’t go unnoticed how he’d stumbled over his words and immediately went back to looking rather intently at the directions. You bit back a smile and looked back down at yours too, unable to rid yourself of the nerves bubbling up inside of you as George looked up once again, stealing glances at you through the orange mist as nerves overtook him, too.

Green

“You had no right to do that! What the bloody hell were you thinking?”

George was standing across from you on the empty dance floor; the Yule Ball had ended abruptly and each and every student had filtered from the Great Hall and back to their respective dormitories, per the teachers. The two of you had managed to stay somehow, now more than ten feet away; you looked at one another with envy as a dramatic scene unfurled between you both.

The entire night had been nothing but a dream, up until that one dance. You’d waltzed in, your light green dress swaying beautifully near your ankles, your hand wrapped around your date’s arm. You waved to your friends, who stood with their respective dates as well, and promised yourself you’d catch up with them at the end of the night when you’d undoubtedly have stories to tell them of the most magical evening of your life.

Except that wasn’t how it worked out, had it?

“He was all over you!” George called, and you noticed how prominent the veins in his hands were when he threw them up in the air. “You said no, didn’t you? He asked you to come back to his dorm and you’d said no. Did you expect me to stand there and do nothing when he grabbed your wrists and tried to pull you there?”

George was right. You had said no, and truthfully, the way your date had grabbed you and attempted to drag you back to his room had really frightened you. You reckoned it was the firewhisky he’d drunk earlier that evening -- he wasn’t violent or anything, but he seemed desperate to get you there. All George had done was step in and stand up for you, so why on earth should you be angry at him?

You didn’t want to give George the satisfaction of letting him know that he was right. You were mad at him for other reasons, anyway. It should’ve been you that he asked to the ball, not that other disturbingly annoying Beauxbatons girl. It’s like he’d picked her particularly because he knew her annoying, bubbly personality and thick French accent would get right under your skin.

You softened a bit as you took a deep breath. “I appreciate what you did, George, but it wasn’t your place. I can take care of myself. He nearly knocked you right out!”

George winced at your words and brought a hand to his black and blue eye. He hadn’t even had the time to grab some ice and place it to the injury, and it was now rather swollen. “I don’t care if he knocked me to the bloody ground, I wasn’t going to let him do that to you!”

You couldn’t help it; anger took you over and you were saying things you shouldn’t have before you could second guess yourself. “Well you know what, George? Perhaps he wouldn’t have had the chance to try anything with me if you’d just bloody asked me to the ball first instead of that stuffy Beauxbatons girl!”

You knew your words hurt him, but you didn’t care. He looked as though he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him; he stepped backward and faltered a bit. His breathing became heavy and irregular. “You already had your date when I asked her, Y/N -- don’t you dare try and pin this on me.”

He was right, yet again. You couldn’t help it. Big, fat tears were falling down your face now and you reckoned you wouldn’t be able to salvage the rest of the hideousness that was this evening. You wiped your tears with the back of your hand and noticed the smears of black mascara and eyeliner on your skin. He inched forward now and opened his arms, but you backed away, still not ready to show him any affection.

You were being a git, but the truth was, you’d waited until the very last possible second for George to ask you to the ball. So when he didn’t, you begrudgingly agreed to the Hufflepuff who’d stepped forward and asked you himself. And as you walked swiftly passed George and up the steps to your common room, you realized that though you’d said yes, your heart had been with the Weasley boy you so adored the entire evening.

In truth, what he’d done was brave and full of love and passion. But you were still filled with hurt.

The green monster of jealousy that you’d felt when you’d watched him dance with his date was such a vice, but you just couldn’t help how you felt.

You left George alone in the desolate Great Hall as he let his head fall into his hands, pushing down his fury and tears.

Grey

You hadn’t gone back to him, that boy from the Yule Ball. You thought about it, but you figured you’d spare George more anger.

He’d approached you, your date, the day afterwards, apologizing profusely for his behaviour and how embarrassed he was at the whole ordeal. He’d asked you for lunch, only if you were okay, and you politely declined. “Friends,” you’d said, and he smiled pitifully, but gratefully, and took your hand in his to shake it.

It was so stupid, wasn’t it? Fighting with George over this. So he hadn’t asked you to the Yule Ball, so what? It wasn’t the end all, be all, was it? And he’d stood up for you, hadn’t he? When things had gotten a little out of control. He hadn’t been your date, but he had been your saviour.

It had only been a week since the dance and you two hadn’t said a word to one another. Fred had begged you too. “Come on, Y/N, you know he’s real sorry. Can’t you just forgive him? Blimey, it’s a right difficult thing to do, splitting my time between you both.”

You merely pressed your lips together and huffed. “He can come apologize to me himself, Fred. He doesn’t need you to do it for him.”

But later that afternoon, you figured, why wait? This whole thing was so dramatic and stupid. And so after rereading the same page eight times due to your lack of concentration, you jumped up from your chair in the Ravenclaw common room and made way toward the Great Hall, as fast as your legs could carry you. You were just going to tell him exactly that -- that this entire thing was dumb, and that you were thankful for him, and that bloody hell, you missed him. Perhaps it was a bit dramatic -- it had only been six days, right? You couldn’t help it. You missed him. You missed him a lot.

The thought of finally speaking to him after a very dramatic week apart made your heart flutter, and a very wide smile split your face just as you were about to round the last bend before the Great Hall.

And then you saw it. Them. Tucked away in a corner near a deserted classroom -- tangled together, George’s hands on her waist, hers in his long red hair. Her lips nearly on his. Smiling, giggling. Kissing him.

That bloody annoying Beauxbatons girl.

You stopped short and nearly tripped over your own two feet. You opened your mouth to speak but just let your mouth tremble in silence as you watched them snog one another. Her laugh was so painfully sugary sweet, you felt as though you’d like to rip your own hair out.

You were surprised how quickly the sight of them had sent your heart plummeting into your stomach. Somewhere in the few moments when you stood there in shock, your vision had become blurry and your face had become wet. You wiped at it with your sweater sleeve and sniffled quietly so they wouldn’t hear you. You spun on your heel and sped back toward your common room, wondering what the bloody hell had come over you when you thought of apologizing to him. You just wanted to get back to your dorm. Or perhaps back to your house in Ottery St. Catchpole. Stupid, silly girl you were.

If only you knew that George had spotted you before you’d left and froze solid in the spot he was standing, ignoring the forwardness of the Beauxbatons girl attached to his arm, his heart and mind chasing you all the way home.

Purple

The Ravenclaw common room was completely empty except for you. You always did this, though -- each and every year, you were always the last to finish packing. Not because you were a procrastinator, but because you hated admitting to yourself that another year was over, and you were another year closer to impending graduation.

Someone popped through the door and said your name softly. You turned and saw George standing there with a small smile on his face. “Hey,” he said, “train’s here. You almost ready to go?”

You groaned and looked back down at your trunk, now fully packed. “If I’ve got to be.” You felt like an absolute idiot that those few words brought tears to your eyes so easily. “Oi, here I go again.”

George laughed lightly and pulled you into a hug. “We’ll be back in no time, you’ll see again how quickly the summer holidays go.”

“But George, it’s our last year!” you cried. And then you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, because you didn’t fancy the idea of boarding the train with smudged makeup and a red nose. “Anyway, shall we?”

When you grabbed your trunk and headed toward the door, George gently took your hand in his and turned you around. “I’ve got something for you actually.”

You wiggled your eyebrows at him and clapped your hands together. “A present? It’s not even my birthday.”

But then you wondered if it was actually a present he wanted to give you, because he took your other hand in his and squeezed them, a serious look on his face. Your features twisted into that of confusion, and you’d be lying if you said that your heartbeat didn’t increase at the sight of him looking at you so earnestly. “What is it?”

“I’ve been a real git this year. Specifically, the Yule Ball. And a little while after that.”

You laughed and playfully shoved him. Though you still felt the sting of those few weeks, you two had managed to patch things up. He hadn’t lasted that long with that Beauxbatons girl anyway. “George, we’ve been over this, c’mon -- you were only doing what you thought was right. I’ve forgiven you, you know.”

“I know,” he smiled, and you could tell that he was equally as glad as you were that you two had placed that argument behind you. But what you two hadn’t touched on since then was what you’d said to him in a fit of fury: Perhaps he wouldn’t have had the chance to try anything with me if you’d just bloody asked me to the ball first instead of that stuffy Beauxbatons girl!

Of course he’d wanted to ask you. He’d wanted to ask you more than anything in the entire world, but each and every time he’d opened his mouth to say something, he couldn’t. Bloody nerves, and all that. Then he went and acted like a prat, making you cry, and he vowed to himself that he’d never make you cry again, unless it were happy tears.

“I realized I’ve never properly made it up to you -- not asking you to the the Yule Ball in the first place, and that time when we were nine.”

You raised your eyebrows suspiciously. “When we were nine? What the bloody hell happened when we were nine?”

And then he pulled from his pocket the most beautiful lavender pendant you ever did see. The circular stone was outlined in the same silver as the chain, and the sun flooding in from the windows made it sparkle more than anything you’d ever seen in your life. Your breath caught in your throat and you looked back and forth from the necklace to George, and back again.

“I ruined your purple dress, remember?” he asked you. He laughed a bit, probably thinking about the ridiculous way you’d looked with red paint splattered all over you. You couldn’t believe he remembered that. “Now, it’s not a dress, but seeing as we’ve grown up a bit since then, I reckoned you’d prefer something a little nicer.” He swallowed over a lump in his throat before continuing. “I never fancied her, you know. That girl from Beauxbatons. I just...” he trailed off, searching for words he couldn’t seem to muster up. You wondered if he could hear the dramatic thump of your heart, beating loudly in the heavy silence. “It doesn’t matter. It was you I wanted to be with that night, and long after. I still do.”

Then he brushed aside your hair and placed the pendant around your neck. You peered at him through blurry vision, and surprised yourself that you were now crying due to the tenderness of his touch and the emotion in his gift and not that you two were about the board the train and leave school, no longer the same two people you were just a few moments ago.

You did the only thing you could think of and you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him. You felt his shock, but it took him only mere milliseconds before he was kissing you back. In truth, you’d been wondering what it would feel like to kiss him -- the taste of him, the feel of your limbs entangled together, exactly how high your heart would soar. It was exactly the way first kisses were meant to be -- slow, and easy, and warm, the way it’s supposed to feel after having swam all day long -- your body limp and muscles de-tensing. You moulded perfectly with him, and when gravity (or rather, the first signal of the train’s departure) pulled you from one another, he peered at you with such affection that you felt as though you might explode.

You grabbed the pendant and held in gently in between your fingers, already having memorized the outline of the silver and the different shades of purple within it. “I am so bloody happy you threw red paint at me that day, Weasley.”

He laughed haughtily, throwing his head back before swinging an arm around your waist and pulling your trunk toward the exit of the Ravenclaw common room. “Merlin, me too.”

White

You were sitting at your kitchen table, ignoring the massive amount of work in front of you to admire your other hard work. Your cozy little flat looked just as you always imagined it would, with the added bonus of your boyfriend in the corner of the front entrance, fixing a loose coat hanger on the wall.

Never in your life did you imagine that things could be as perfect as this.

You couldn’t help but wonder if it would be a flat you two would share one day.

You got up and brought with you his half empty glass of wine and handed it to him. Gratefully he took it and sipped before pressing a feather light kiss to your forehead. But then you gently traced his jawline with your finger, down his neck, across his collar bone until he followed your move and leaned in to kiss you. It was soft and chaste and everything like your first one had been. But as the alcohol worked its way through your veins, you found yourself pressing yourself harder against him.

A moan of content escaped him as you bit down on his lip and slipped your hands underneath his shirt, hands pressed against his chest. Unashamedly, you pulled him toward your bedroom, and he placed his empty wine glass next to yours on the table as he kicked the door closed.

The two of you fell backwards onto the bed in an entanglement of limbs. He hovered above you, dropping down a bit to press light kisses to your neck, in between your collarbones, behind your ears, against your jawline. You so desperately wanted to feel his weight on top of you, and so you yanked him firmly against you and kissed him in a way that there was no aching way that he wouldn’t be able to tell exactly what you wanted.

He began to undo the buttons on your shirt, taking time to press kisses into your chest at the exposed places before he stopped himself and gently ran his hands across your hips, and then your cheek. His voice was merely a whisper in the deafening silence, “Are you sure?”

He gazed at you with such tenderness and love that you knew he’d stop, if you’d asked him to. He wouldn’t go another inch further if you weren’t ready. And for you, that was more than enough.

“I’m sure.”

He sucked in a breath and dipped down to press lips to yours gently before continuing to make light work of your clothes. He explored every inch of you, and the sensation of his lips gently grazing your skin caused you to arch your back in pleasure. You could feel him smiling against you, wildly in love, handling you with such care as if you were a tiny glass figure he was afraid of breaking. He held you so delicately and worked his way through each and every single one of your wants with slow and gentle hands.

You’d known it was love with him; maybe not consciously, but you’d known it long before now. Love, filled with intensity and desire and longing, in its most vulnerable and fragile form -- pure, and blinding white.

Pink

The summer air wafted in through the open window in the kitchen, and you listened to Mrs. Weasley hum some Muggle song as she set the table for dessert. You placed the finishing touches on the lemon meringue pie you baked, special because it was George’s favourite and Mrs. Weasley had insisted.

You had to admit, he’d always had the outside exterior of a tough guy, but owning a business did absolute wonders for his confidence. You noticed the way he stood up a little straighter, smiled a little bigger, and most of all, just how much he gushed about all the plans you two would be able to act on, now that you were both making income of your own.

“Merlin’s beard, Y/N, you’ve absolutely knocked it out of the park with this pie, if I do say so myself.” Arthur’s praise was nothing short of wonderful; you felt the tips of your ears turn pink at his compliments. By the way Ron slouched back in his chair, looking rather chuffed indeed, you could tell he felt the same exact way. Especially when he reached for the last piece, but Hermione slapped his hand away.

“Oh my!” Molly yelped suddenly. You jumped in surprise in your seat. “Oh, Georgie dear, would you mind wandering into the field before dark? I’d love some wildflowers for the table,”

“Sure thing, mum.” George replied before turning to you and squeezing your hand. “Want to tag along?”

You said, “Of course” at the exact same time Ron said “I’ll come along too, I could use a good walk” and if you hadn’t been so focused on George’s tender gaze, you almost would’ve missed Fred silently hissing at Ron and Hermione slapping his hand yet again. “On second thought,” Ron swallowed thickly, “I’d better stay here and help you clean up, mum.”

“Atta boy, Ronniekins,” Molly said. To you and George, she continued, “You two better get going -- not long now before it turns dark!”

George stood and pulled you to your feet. “You coming, love?”

“I go where you go.”

About twenty minutes later, as the setting sun had blended with the light purples and pinks of the sky, you’d found yourself with a rather beautiful bouquet of wildflowers for Molly. You turned to George, who was leaning against the tree and smiling at you, and asked, “Shall we get going darling? Don’t want to be too late. I reckon your mum will come out here searching for us if we spend an evening among the stars.”

“Doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea, actually.” His grin deepened, and then he said, “you’re lucky I don’t have any pranks up my sleeve right now.”

You look up at the tree and recognized the place where he’d infuriated you all those long years ago. You rolled your eyes and shook your head before twirling in your dress. “I am lucky. I was able to get a new dress after the one you so lovingly ruined. Though I will admit -- I wasn’t all that big of a fan of those puffy sleeves. This one’s much more adult.”

George arched his eyebrow in surprise before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. “Oh yes it is.”

You slapped him playfully and pointed your finger at him. “Alright you prat, calm yourself, you’ll have to wait until we get back to our flat for any funny business.”

But then you realized, as George’s features turned from mischievous to genuine within the matter of seconds, that there was definitely more pressing matters than funny business on his mind.

And then he was telling you how he’d only teased you back then because he’d found you so bloody cute, and how he should’ve asked you to the Yule Ball and regretted every single day that he didn’t, and how he’d never met anyone who could play Quidditch quite as well as you, and how bloody happy he’d been when you’d kissed him that day in the Ravenclaw common room. And then knelt down and he asked it, the words you’d imagined since you were a little girl, strung together with such fondness and emotion and tenderness that you weren’t quite sure how you were standing upright.

You’d already begun to nod quickly through your tears before he finished, but would he really be George Weasley if he didn’t tease you, just a little? “Say yes,” he laughed, “say yes and marry me and be my wife for as long as you’ll have me.”

He slid the ring onto your finger and kissed you and picked you up and whirled you around in the field and held you gently in his arms as though you were a precious glass figurine and he was doing everything in his power to hold you delicately.

“Yes. I say yes.”

Black & White

You asked, When did you first know?

And he answered, I always knew.

You both ran back up the aisle, your white dress fluttering around your ankles, his black suit hugging the curves of his arms, and into the field and away from the party, momentarily, to celebrate your first moments as husband and wife in the place where he’d figured it all out.

He’d known since that afternoon when he’d handed you those yellow dandelions that he would bring you back here one day, to ask you to be his wife. He’d known, in the Ravenclaw common room when he gave you that purple pendant, still dangling from your neck, that one day he’d also give you a ring. He’d known, all those long years ago, that he wanted to marry you, and that you would say yes, when he’d finally ask.

And now, in front of your friends and family, he’d vowed to love you -- love in it’s purest and simplest form, love -- with all it’s sentiment and emotion and vulnerability. He vowed to love you and only you for the rest of his life.

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beekindacool · 4 years ago

Text

Remus Lupin x Reader

Gender: female (she/her)

Word count: 2033

TW: none

You sat in the Gryffindor common room, just right in front of the fire. Behind you sat your dear friend, Lily Evans. The two of you had known one another since pretty much birth. Your mothers were best friends and you had followed in their steps. It was pure luck that you and Lily had turned out to be witches together. Even more luck when you were both sorted into Gryffindor. Now, though, you were in your sixth year.

You looked over to Lily, she was finishing up her Potions homework when James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew obnoxiously came running down the stairs from their dorm rooms.

“Ladies! Lovely evening, innit?” Sirius hummed, dancing towards you and Lily. You scrunched up your nose slightly, mocking a face of disgust. In actuality, you enjoyed the presence of The Marauders, despite how over-the-top they could be. After all, they had been there for Lily after the fallout with Snape last year.

James scooted himself over next to Lily, he tried wrapping an arm around her shoulder but she shooed him away, a smile was undeniably growing on her face. Yes, Lily was into James but she always denied it.

Sirius made a comment, teasing them probably but you had turned your attention towards Remus. You didn’t realize it before but he stood next to you now.

“It’s painful watching those two, really!” The tall boy whisper-yelled to you, letting out a chuckle afterwards. You never really paid any mind to Remus. He was always a bit more quiet than James and Sirius. Peter, too, with all his anxious fits.

You studied his face for a bit, noticing the long pink scar that went across his face. His deep blue eyes that looked sad despite the small smile he had on. The light stubble on his chin. The way his hair was wavy and sort of swooped over like in the movies. Remus Lupin was *really* pretty.

Remus cleared his throat just loud enough for you to snap out of your daze. You felt your face heat up in embarrassment.

“I’m... I am so sorry. Merlin, I did not mean to come off as creepy or anything I just! I-“ You were cut off by Remus.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/L/N. It’s okay to be curious about my scars.” He consoled, patting your shoulder with his hand lightly.

Your time with Remus was cut short when James called for him as the rest of the boys were leaving through the painting. Remus said a quick goodbye and jogged towards his friends.

Letting out a sigh, you sat next to Lily and she laid her head in your lap. You played with her fiery red locks as she rambled on about James being absolutely ridiculous.

Later that night, you still sat in the common room but now alone. You laid on the couch and watched the dying fire. You thought about Remus: his hand in yours, cuddling, etc. All that romantic cheesy stuff. You couldn’t help it, it was the hopeless romantic in you.

As if on cue, though, The Marauders entered the common room again. James and Sirius greeted you and ran back into their dorms, giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls as Peter followed behind them. Remus didn’t follow them, instead he came over to you. Quickly, you sat up straight and made room for Remus. He sat down on the opposite side and turned his whole body towards you, lifting his knees up to his chest.

For the next hour, you and Remus talked about almost anything and everything. It was easy to get comfortable with him, everything about him made you feel warm and at home.

After that night in the common room, the two of you became almost attached to the hip when he wasn’t hanging out with The Marauders. He eventually trusted you enough to tell you about his “condition”. Remus was with you all throughout seventh year, too. And with each moment you spent with him, the more you fell in love with him.

It was Lily and James’ wedding day. You were the maid of honor and Sirius was the best man. The wedding was a small one; James’ parents, Remus, and Peter being the only others to attend due to the first war.

The summer breeze gently tousled Lily’s hair. She looked just like a princess would. The top of the dress hugged her torso and flowed out into a tea length. It was a little simple but easy to move in. You wore a light lemony yellow dress, it was an a-line with a small cape over it.

The ceremony had quickly ended and all of you went to Lily and James’ home to eat dinner. The whole night was full of laughter and utter joy, everyone was able to forget about the terrors outside for just a little bit.

That night, Remus took you home.

“I hope you know you looked absolutely beautiful tonight, Y/N. Really.” He commented as the two of you got to your doorstep. Remus had a cheeky smile on his face and he shifted awkwardly as he waited for a response.

“Thank you. You looked really handsome too, you git.” You let out a small laugh and avoided eye contact with Remus, your face was undeniably as red as a cherry.

He gently held your cheek with one hand, making you look at him. Remus pursed his lips for a moment before speaking again.

“C-can I kiss you?” He stuttered out, wincing as his voice cracked just a bit. You couldn’t help but grin ear to ear at him, he was absolutely adorable. You nodded though and leaned up, pulling Remus into a kiss. It was sweet. He was sweet. Remus tasted like chocolate.

After that, you and Remus dated for a bit. About three years, actually. It was going absolutely perfect with Remus until Lily and James had been murdered. It broke your heart. Both of your hearts.

You tried making your relationship work after the war. It just didn’t feel the same anymore with no Lily, no James, no Peter, or Sirius.

It was a mutual decision to split. Remus moved away to Merlin knows where. He didn’t send any owls. He didn’t contact you at all afterwards. You couldn’t blame him.

Things eventually began looking up for you as years passed. Dumbledore sent you an owl, offering you a teaching position as the new charms professor and had also mentioned Harry Potter would be attending as a first year. Without a second thought, you accepted.

Now, it was your third year teaching at Hogwarts. You were so unbelievably proud of Harry with the things he had accomplished in his first and second year. You were close with him, always telling him stories about Lily and James. Harry considered you his aunt... at least one he actually liked.

You sat in the Great Hall, waiting for the other professors to arrive. You were excited to find out who the next DADA professor was. Or anxious? The last two you met were interesting to say the least... one being a traitor and the other being a fraud. Becoming bored of waiting, though, you began to doze off.

Next thing you knew, Snape was sitting next to you and dug his elbow into your rib, causing you to let out a quiet curse. He not-so-discreetly motioned over to a man sitting at the opposite end of the dining table. You thought it was Remus.

Snape knew that you and Remus had been in a relationship. You told him everything. He apologized for everything that had happened in the past. You couldn’t fully forgive him, not after he had become a death eater. You were able to tolerate him enough, though.

“Is that... Lupin? Remus Lupin?” You asked Snape slowly, unsure if whether or not your eyes were deceiving you. Snape let out a low yes.

And on cue, Dumbledore stood up and introduced the man you loved for all these years. You watched as he did an awkward bow to the students. He was so handsome still. When he sat back down, you could’ve sworn he looked back at you for a second.

After everyone was finished with their meals, students were the first to leave the Great Hall, leaving the professors to mingle for a bit before their first classes.

You tried staying close to Snape, acting as if you were busy but that didn’t stop Remus from coming up to you.

“Professor Y/L/N. It’s been quite some time! You’re looking well.” Remus cheerily greeted, his hands were dug in his pockets as he looked you up and down, obviously checking you out.

“I’m right here too, you know...” Snape hissed, one side of his top lip slightly curled in disgust. Remus threw his hands up and acted as if he was surprised to see Snape.

“Merlin! Sniv- I mean Snape. Hello!” Remus chuckled, he looked at you as you tried stifling giggles. You remembered when The Marauders would call Snape “Snivellous”.

Snape, finding Remus to be unfunny, scoffed and left to prepare for his Potions class. Now, it was just you and Remus. It was awkward.

“How’ve you been?” You finally asked, your voice became softer. You knew he had a hard time finding work because of his lycanthropy.

“I’m... I’m better than how I was last time we saw one another.” His voice wavered a bit, your last memories together were painful to remember.

“I missed you. I hope you know that.” You choked out, pulling him in for a hug. Your forehead was pressed against his chest and arms wrapped around his waist. You felt him hesitate but Remus stroked your hair.

The two of you were interrupted when Dumbledore cleared his throat. “It’s time for your classes, professors.”

“We’ll talk later, okay Y/N?” Remus pulled away from you and ruffled your hair a little bit before setting off to class. You waited a few moments before setting off yourself.

The whole day you thought about Remus. You were unsure about whether or not you were excited to talk or if you were going to explode from nervousness.

After dinner and students were sent to their dorms, you met with Remus in the library. The two of you sat at a table in the back corner. It used to be where you held your study dates with him.

“Right... where should we start?” He asked, folding his hands over the table. You could tell he was nervous.

“Have you been seeing anybody?” You blurted out, it was the first thing that came to your mind.

“No. No, I haven’t seen anybody since you.” Remus chuckled, raking a hand through his hair. He hesitated before speaking again.

“In all honesty Y/N, I couldn’t bring myself to be with anyone else. You were the only girl I’d ever loved. The only one I still love.” He said softly, lowering his head. You wanted to cry. To scream. To jump into his arms. Anything.

“I... I feel the same way. I love you still. Even after all these years. I always will.” You whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

You felt tears start dripping from your eyes. It was barely noticeable at first but then they had just coming out like a faucet. Remus stood up, panicking.

“What’s wrong, darling?” He asked, picking you up and sitting you on the edge of the table. Remus stood in between your legs and wiped your tears best he could.

“I just missed you so much,” you choked out in between sobs, “I thought about you everyday and here you are standing right in front of me again. It’s all I’ve ever wanted since forever.”

Remus let out a soft laugh and shook his head. He took your face in his hands and kissed you. It was desperate and passionate. You tried making up for all the kisses you missed over the past thirteen years.

You were ready to build a future with Remus again. You were going to make it work with him through thick and thin.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #harry potter #harry potter x reader #x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #james potter #james potter x reader #marauders fanfiction

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