#anyway it’s interesting how harry has like. A Hole In His Leg | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

harrywritingsbyme · 4 years ago

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Omg i love the idea of a "first time anal" one omg i love your writing, pleasd make this ask a piece omgg

Ready?

A/N: This is installment 5 of A Series of Firsts!!! This one has been highly requested for some time now so I’m finally writing it. I decided to do a simple plot to this one so yeah...it’s crazy filthy tho. Also, this one is pretty freehand for my writing. So I hope you guys like it...Enjoy🙃

Harry’d been training your second hole for the past couple of weeks. The two of you had been wanting to give anal, particularly on you, a shot for a good while now. After seeing how well Harry adjusted and responded to having his hole played with, you were really interested in trying it out and getting a taste of the pleasure that Harry felt. From the way his cock twitched between his legs as you pushed your fingers or toys into his puckered entrance and the way he’d let out the loudest whines and moans from the feeling, you could tell that it felt amazing. So the possibilities for pleasure with his fingers and cock were endless. And the same way you were excited to give anal a try, Harry matched that excitement plus some. When you told him that you wanted to give it a go, Harry lit up like a Christmas tree.

The last thing Harry ever wanted to do was pressure you into something that you were unsure of or weren’t comfortable with. So despite the fact that he was being teased by your puckered entrance every time he took your from behind, and he that couldn’t stop swirling his tongue around the area whenever he had his head between your legs, along with thumbing at your entrance and lightly nudging his cock at it, Harry made sure to never pressure you. That’s why when you told him that you wanted to play around with your second hole, he was ready to make sure that you’re pleasured to the fullest and comfortable in the process. Since you voiced your concern about his size being too big for your entrance, Harry went straight into buying and researching any and everything to gradually move you towards taking his entire cock.

Before he bought anything, Harry did a pretty good amount of research. He even cross referenced different pieces of information. He looked into the best lubes for extended use of anal plugs, he looked into the best ways to train your hole to take more and more over time, and he even went as far to see if it was safe for you to sleep with your plug inside of you. Luckily for him, he got all the answers he needed and was hoping for. Once he compiled all of his information, Hary then went on to purchase items. He bought two types of lube, an oil based lube for when you wore the plug throughout the day, and a water based one for when he was playing with you at night. He also bought an extensive array of toys. For starters, he purchased a set of four shiny steel anal plugs with a big jewel in your favorite color on top that gradually increased in width and length. These would beused for everyday wear. Along with these plugs, he bought a couple silicone dildos that varied in girth and length. These were for when he would be training your hole and helping you become accustomed to having a cock inside of your tightened hole. And none of them were the size of his cock. He did this simply because he wanted to give you a bit of a surprise once the time finally came. Harry also threw in a couple accessories that you’d enjoy. He bought a couple bunny tail plugs that he thought would look adorable on you, and he got a string of ben wa balls. Those were definitely for him; he found the picture of you struggling to maneuver and hold them inside pretty amusing to say the least. After he picked everything and put a rush on the shipping, Harry anxiously awaited his large package of toys that he was dying to break in.

And once they did arrive, Harry began to break them in alright.

Since you were a thousand percent on board with it all, you were ready to start immediately. Once he unpackaged and cleaned the toys, Harry jumped right into walking you through the process and starting it. He used his fingers and the lube to ease your extremely tight hole open a bit and to help insert the first plug into you. When you first felt the pointed dome of metal plug inside you, it was a bit weird. It was sitting inside of your ass and you’d never felt that before. But after a couple hours of moving around and toying around with it, you became a bit more adjusted to the feeling and you were feeling excited for what was to come. This excitement was also because of Harry. The way he researched and took everything into account made you feel taken care of and at ease about everything. You were so excited to experience this with him and you knew for a fact that this entire process would be nothing short of amazing.

Every day for the following weeks, the two of you acquired a “Training Routine” so to speak. This is how the day would go: He’d insert the plug that you were working with at the moment in the morning and then go about your days either apart or together. Then once the day was coming to an end in the early part of then evening he’d let your hole take a break for a couple hours by removing the plug. He would then clean the plug while you’re taking your break. After some things get done, Harry’d use one of the dildos that you were currently working with to play with your ass a bit and let you cum. Finally, before turning out the lights, Harry’d apply a new coat of lube and push your plug back inside before going to bed. This process lasted a good eight weeks. You advanced through the plugs and dildos, all the way up to the final set. And Harry couldn’t have been prouder. His baby had taken every last toy so well and he couldn’t wait to reward you with his cock inside your princess hole. Every time he watched your pretty and puckered hole stretch to fit the dildos or the plugs, all he could think about was your sweet little entrance engulfing every inch of his big cock while you whined and clung to whatever you could for dear life. He couldn’t stop the visual of him ramming his cock down into your ass from behind over and over again from invading his mind either. He completely understood that he wouldn’t be able to do that right away but he’d jump at the opportunity as fast as he can once you tell him to go harder. It’d definitely take a lot of self control to hold back his feral desires and not give your ass a good pounding. But the wait would be beyond worth it.

Right now you were on your second week for your final set of training. It took you about two weeks for each set and you were right at the end. To be honest, you were a little shocked at how you flew through every last set. From the outset of it all, having your hole trained seemed a bit daunting and unusual. But Harry was right there to guide you through it all. He praised you for how good you were doing every time he played with your hole and he gently pushed you at times when you were on the verge of giving up. After finally reaching the end, you were more than ready to take Harry’s cock in your second entrance.

The two of you had decided to spend your Friday night in bed watching a movie and chatting. In the process, the both of you were playing with each other. You had your head in his lap fondling his cock and suckling on the girthy flesh from time to time while Harry sat back against the headboard and moved the rather large (not Harry large though) dildo in and out of your now acclimated hole. As the the time passed, the both of you would try and get the other to squirm and moan. Harry’d push the dildo really deep into you causing you to squirm around on the bed, roll your eyes back, and just moan from the feeling. To get him back, you’d feel throat his cock, suckle on his large balls, and/or push one of your fingers a bit lower towards his entrance to which he’d grunt, moan, and buck his hips up towards you.

“Do y’want me t’just fuck you already? I mean, I’m as hard as a rock and I can guarantee you that pussy of yours is sopping wet.” Harry states bluntly, stopping his movements with the dildo to reach down and feel your pussy. “And I was right.” He confirms, feeling your sticky arousal on his fingers.

“I mean we were going fuck anyways so why not get a head start. Plus I like having two cocks inside me anyways.” You agree, lifting yourself up onto your knees before taking your shirt off.

“Don’t give me any ideas. M’gonna tear that ass and cunt to pieces if you keep talking like that.” Harry grumbles, yanking his shirt off as well before yanking you over to him.

“Maybe I want you to tear me apart.” You reply suggestively as you lift yourself into his lap.

“Just get on my cock.” Harry growls lowly, bringing his hand to your throat and the other down to push the dildo back up your ass to move you along. And with that, you waste no time sinking down onto his hard shaft.

“Fuck!” You moan loudly. As you sink down onto him, you both can not only feel your tight walls stretching, you can also feel his cock pushing against the dildo that was in your ass through your walls. You were really full. Once he’s pressing into your stomach, Harry gives you no time whatsoever before he’s slamming up into you. His hips are moving so fast as he shoves his cock up into you. The feeling of your velvety walls alone could drive Harry insane; and it was. He just couldn’t stop slamming his cock up into you! As he continues to piston his cock up into your pussy, his grip on your throat gets tighter causing your mouth to just hand open as you let out the smallest whimpers.

“Look so pretty when that ass and cunt are filled. Such a good little cockslut.” Harry chuckles lowly, using his grip on your throat to pull you closer to his face so that he could lick into your open mouth. As he does, Harry lets go of your throat all together and brings that hand down to your chest to fondle your breasts. Even though his cock was amazingly fucking your cunt, you really wanted his cock in your ass. You wanted to finally feel him in there. So keeping a hand on his shoulder for support, you bring your hand down behind you to where his hand was guarding the dildo against slipping out of your entrance and you pull at his hand. This results in Harry coming to an immediate halt to see what was wrong. “You okay baby?” He asks concernedly.

“Better than okay. Just want you to fuck me.” You sigh happily.

“Want my cock in there?” Harry asks, making sure he is hearing you correctly.

“So bad.” You whine back, biting your lip to hold back a moan.

When you reply, Harry is quick to pull you up from his cock so that he could throw you down onto the bed in front of him. He quickly lifts himself up and towers over your body between your legs. Harry then pushes upwards at the backs of your thighs so that your lower body is lifted up from the bed a bit before bringing his face down to pretty much devour your cunt. He quickly laps his tongue up and down your folds, stopping every once in a while to suck on your clit or push at your entrance. While he does this, you’re having a fit, letting out moan after moan from how good his mouth feels on you. He was trying to push you as close to the edge as possible so that you could cum with him once he’s inside. You were incredibly tight and Harry knew for a fact that he’d last no more than two seconds once he’s inside. He wasn’t even expecting you to let him push into you tonight. He was thinking that you wanted a bit more time but he was gravely mistaken on that one. You wanted him in there now.

After a couple more licks and sucks, Harry finally pulls his head from between your legs and pulls your legs down before turning you onto your side. From this angle, Harry could fuck into your ass and still get a good look at your face. He wanted to watch your face contort as you took his big cock inside.

“Gonna pull this out now.” Harry announces, slowly pulling the toy out of you. He tosses the soft toy onto the bed next to him, and then pushes his cock back into your pussy for a split second, causing you to let out a little gasp. “Needed t’be a bit wetter.” He explains with a smirk as he grips onto his glistening shaft and lines himself up with your princess hole as he liked to call it. “M’gonna fuck you so good baby.” Harry grumbles behind you, holding onto your hip as he nudges himself into you.

“Not too hard though.” You sigh, completely relaxing your body as you feel his cock entering you. All you could say was that this was absolutely amazing.

“Don’t worry, can barely move y’so tight.” Harry grunts, trying his hardest to keep his composure. He wasn’t even halfway in and Harry could feel himself come onto the verge of cumming. He stops himself in his tracks and takes multiple deep breaths before going back to pushing.

“Oh my god!” You exclaim, feeling yourself become full with him. This was a type of full that you’d never felt before; and it was so good.

“Feelin’ good baby?” Harry pants, feeling himself beginning to fall apart as he reaches the base of his cock.

“So good. Think m’gonna cum.” You pant with a little whimper. You were holding your release so that you could cum with Harry but it was getting harder and harder to keep going.

“Me too sweet girl.” Harry pants, beginning to slowly rock himself in and out of you. Harry was on cloud nine. You felt way better than he could’ve ever imagined and he was about to burst. As he continues to rock into you, you can feel him pushing right into the sweet spot within you (you were starting to wonder whether or not he had some type of sweet spot detector inside of him). When he feels you beginning to squeeze around him, he decides to just give up on holding back. “Cum with me baby!” Harry grunts before bursting at the seams. You could feel his cum pouring into your ass as the wave of your release crashes down onto you. All of it combined was so much to handle. You were clenching onto his cock as you came and you were feeling all of his cum flood into your body as you came.

Once the waves of your releases begin to calm down a little, Harry slowly pulls out of you and collapses down onto the bed next to you. You then turn your body so that you’re lying flat against the bed next to him as you are in a tired yet buzzed daze as well. The both of you were out of it and still in shock from the amazing thing you two just experienced.

“Is it wrong for me t’be thinking about pounding your ass right now?” Harry asks out of the blue, reaching his arm over to drag his hand up and down your back.

“No. Because I’m thinking about it too.” You reply softly.

“M’gonna tear you up.” He promises.

“I’m ready.” You reply confidently.

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years ago

Text

Washing Machine Heart

Day 22, Story #2 is by @rosequartzstarswrites

Title: Washing Machine Heart Author/Artist: rosequartzstars - @rosequartzstarswrites (Because of Tumblr settings, this is posting from my main blog, but it’s me!) Pairing: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley (and background Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger) Prompt: 5+1 Rating: T (only for some strong language and non-explicit insinuations) Trigger Warning(s) (if any): none apply!

“I can’t believe I’m going through with this,” huffed Hermione, struggling to keep up the brisk pace Ron was marking on the sidewalk.

“You never believed you’d have to, did you?” Ron said gleefully, seemingly unaware of just how hard his long-legged strides were to keep up with.

“You never told me you were that good at chess!”

“No, more like you never thought anyone could be better than you at anything!”

Despite only having been friends, close friends, with them for a semester, Harry had already become accustomed to the constant bickering between Ron and Hermione, to the point even of endearment. Coming from the Dursleys’, arguments and rebukes were something he was used to, but the undertone of friendship with which Ron and Hermione faced off was a welcome change (and a very entertaining one). Still, he tended to side quietly with Ron, and this particular time was no exception: part of him was delighted at the prospect of seeing Hermione get a tattoo.

This had all started from a ridiculous bet, born of boredom in the lounge of their dorm building. Ron had eyed the communal chessboard, battered and chipped from years of usage, and challenged Hermione to a match.

Hermione had scoffed: “Only if you want to lose, Ron.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Ron had said, exchanging a look with Harry as a sly smile crept onto his lips.

“I’m completely certain.”

“Certain enough to bet?” Ron had prodded her.

The competitiveness that, before becoming friends, was all Harry had known of Hermione had flared up in her eyes. “I’m listening.”

“When you lose—”

“If I lose, and I won't—”

“When you lose,” Ron had reiterated, “you have to get a tattoo of my choosing.”

Hermione had smirked. “Game on.”

In Hermione’s defense, Harry thought, she hadn’t ever considered she might lose. There really was no way of expecting how good Ron had turned out to be at chess, especially since —Harry thought— Hermione had based her certainty on how abysmal his grades were, against her own straight A’s, in their proofs-based mathematics class, which relied entirely on strength of reasoning. But, as it turned out, Ron was actually a master logician, if only somewhat lazy at his math classes, and this he had proved by absolutely obliterating Hermione with the fastest checkmate Harry had ever borne witness to.

And that is how they had come to find themselves out on the streets of their little college town that night, wrapped in their scarves and their winter coats to battle the first of the December chill, walking to a tattoo parlor Ron knew in the area so Hermione could be forever reminded of her loss by a tattoo Ron would choose. And if Harry knew Ron well, and knew how much he relished teasing Hermione, the reminder would be a strong one.

“I didn’t even want a tattoo,” Hermione was mumbling, more to herself than at either of them. “I never wanted one— did you know that you might not be eligible to donate blood if you have a tattoo? I mean, not that it’s impossible, but it’s a factor against you, like your weight and your age. And my family has a history of needing transfusions— oh, God, what if my grandfather needs a donation, like, tomorrow? The three-month period of eligibility won’t have elapsed, and my father can’t donate, and– and–” She froze in the middle of the sidewalk. “Oh, God, have I killed my grandfather?”

“Relax, Hermione,” Ron said, throwing a fraternal arm around her shoulders and squeezing her half in an attempt to get her walking again. “You’re halfway across the country from home. You wouldn’t be able to fly out on such short notice anyway.”

Harry had to stifle a laugh at how Hermione gaped at Ron then, a billion other dire possibilities to worry about racing through her head now. Ron, however, was less successful at keeping down a chuckle. “I’m kidding, Hermione. Besides, a tattoo will make you look badass.”

“I don’t want to look badass!” Hermione squeaked shrilly. “I’ve never been remotely interested in looking badass!”

“Well, interested or not,” Ron said as they came up to a dark brick building with a neon sign reading LOVEGOOD’S flickering above the door, “it seems like you don’t have much of a choice, because we’re here.”

Hermione let out a noise that sounded somewhere between a gasp and a whine as she looked up at the storefront that, to her, was synonymous not only with her doom but apparently that of her grandfather.

“Ron, please?” she said meekly.

Ron, however, looked gleeful and would not be deterred. “A bet’s a bet,” he declared, grabbing her wrist and beginning to march her up the three or so stairs that led up to the door of the tattoo parlor from the sidewalk. Harry lingered behind for an instant, watching the backs of his two friends as they waddled up the stairs, smiling as he listened to Ron debate whether he would make Hermione get a skull or a sailor’s “Mom” arrow-pierced heart, and Hermione pleading shrilly with him not to do either of those things. Watching them, Harry’s smile widened. He was lucky to have them as friends, that much he knew, despite the short time he’d spent knowing them. Why he hadn’t found them his freshman year was beyond him— but now, now that he had these wacky outings and constant bickering to enjoy, he felt overwhelmingly lucky that they had found him.

“Harry, are you coming in or what?” Ron beckoned him. He had stopped on the topmost step and was still gripping Hermione, whose face was a mask of pure, crystallized terror.

“Absolutely,” Harry said, hurrying up the steps with a little hop. “This I’ve got to see.”

Ron pushed open the door to the parlor with a little too much gusto, and Hermione cringed at the metallic sound of the chimes above the door as they tinkled with the announcement of their entrance. The front of the shop, sealing off the rest with a counter that had seen better days, was empty, the backroom separated by a beaded curtain.

“Hellooo?” Ron called into the backroom, marching right up to the counter. “Is anybody here? We bring a very eager customer!”

Hermione began to protest, but just as she did, an employee came out of the backroom to stand behind the counter. Catching a glimpse of her, Harry felt as if the wind had been knocked out of his chest: she was stunning. She was tall and slender, her toned arms visible through the ripped-off sleeves of her vintage Hole tee, with a curtain of straight orange hair pulled back into a long high ponytail. Her bright brown eyes glimmered atop a button-like nose that matched her small, round mouth perfectly, the pale fine face finished by a spattering of freckles. Even before she had spoken a single word, Harry felt the confidence coming off of her in waves, simply by how she propped her elbows up on the counter and eyed their party somewhat playfully. He was frozen to his place with the sight of her, hoping his jaw hadn’t dropped as low as it had felt in the wake of his awe.

Upon seeing her, however, Ron had had exactly the opposite reaction. “Ginny?” he said incredulously.

“What are you doing here?” the woman —Ginny— said without any greeting, returning Ron’s frown.

“I thought you weren’t working today!”

“I’m covering a shift for Demelza, she had a gyn appointment today.”

“Well, if I knew that, I wouldn’t have come in,” grumbled Ron. The tips of his ears were beginning to pink, a sign Harry had learned to recognize as a hint of extreme emotion in his friend.

“Well, you’re here now, so… what can I do for you?” Ginny said. “I mean, you can’t possibly be the one getting inked, Ron. You’re too much of a wimp.”

“Shut up, or I’m telling mom you got your helix pierced. That’ll make for a fun Christmas greeting when we’re back home, I’ll wager.”

Then the similarity became apparent to Harry: the freckles, the aggressive red of their hair, the same glint in their eyes… Ginny was Ron’s sister. Somehow, he didn’t know whether that was something he should feel good or bad about.

“Tattletale,” Ginny said, swatting at him. “And it’s called an industrial piercing. Not that you’d know.” Only then did she seem to remark on the rest of the party.

“Harry Potter,” she said, and Harry gulped as she crossed her muscular arms over her chest and leaned back, surveying him. “Come to get a sixth tattoo?”

“A sixth— how do you know?” Harry said, befuddled. Out of all the opening lines he would’ve expected her to use, this had not been one of them.

“You can credit the rumor mill at school,” Ginny shrugged, still eyeing him with interest. “You’re a topic of interest. Or at least among the soccer teams.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Romilda swore you had a griffin tattooed on your chest, but I told her I’d heard it was a dragon. Much more macho, I thought.”

“Thanks,” Harry said dully. What else was he supposed to say?

“Don’t mention it,” Ginny gave him a conspiratorial wink. “And if I were you, I’d find out who on the boys’ team has been giving you the eye in the shower enough to count your tats. I bet it’s Ron.”

“It’s not!” Ron said angrily, the red from his ears bleeding out onto his cheeks.

“I bet it is,” Ginny mouthed to Harry, giving him another wink. “But it’s not you?”

“Pardon?” said Harry, for whom the ‘it-is-it’s-not’ exchange had grown somewhat confusing.

“For the tattoo?” Ginny said, and Harry felt like an idiot. “It’s not you who’s getting it?”

“No, ah, actually— it’s Hermione,” Harry was knocked back into his senses as he gestured toward Hermione, who had stood, utterly baffled, throughout that whole exchange.

“Hermione Granger?” Ginny said, and Harry was almost glad when she turned her gaze away from him and toward Hermione. “As in, Scamander Fellow Hermione Granger?”

“The one and only,” Ron declared proudly, happy to be back off a topic that bothered him (teasing Ron) and back on a topic that delighted him (teasing Hermione).

“I wouldn’t have chalked you up to the tattoo type,” Ginny said.

“Oh, she’s not,” Ron said, his face lighting up as if Christmas had come early.

Ginny’s eyes darted between the dismal face of Hermione and the cheerful face of Ron, her eyebrows rising as she took it in. “Okay, I’m not going to ask about whatever this is. What am I doing on you?”

“I’m designing it,” Ron said brightly. And if Harry had thought that Hermione’s face couldn’t get more desolated, he’d been wrong.

“Christ, Hermione, what has he got on you?” Ginny said, already opening a drawer on the counter to pull out a sketchpad and a pen.

“I’m such an idiot,” Hermione grumbled.

Ron pored over the sketchpad, shielding the paper from Hermione’s eyes as he sketched. When he was done, he handed it to Ginny with a quick flick of the wrist that, much to Hermione’s dismay, ensured she couldn’t even catch a glimpse of what was on it. Ginny looked over whatever it was Ron had drawn and then looked up at her brother with a frown.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay, then,” Ginny shrugged. She lifted the counter to open a gap through which Hermione could walk. “Follow me.”

Looking like a lamb led to the slaughter, Hermione looked up to heaven as if making one last, futile plea before scrunching up her nose and following Ginny through the beaded curtain to the backroom. Because yes, she hated the idea of getting a tattoo, but she hated the idea of letting Ron hold one over her even more.

Ron watched her leave delightedly, relishing in the jangle the beaded curtain made as it swallowed Ginny and Hermione into the backroom. “This is going to be good,” he said, rubbing his palms together. “Oh, this is going to be so good.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a sister?” Harry blurted out all of a sudden. He startled himself as much as Ron when he said it, though he was glad he’d been able to pare down the question from what was actually swirling around in his head: Why didn’t you tell me you had a sister that looked like THAT?

Ron looked at him and shrugged. “I don’t know. It never came up.”

“You told me about every other one of your five brothers, but not the sister.”

“Nope.”

“Not the sister that seems to be about our age.”

“Nope.”

“Not the sister that seems to be about our age and plays soccer.“ And is hot.

"Nope.” Ron paused and frowned. “She’s a year below us, anyway.”

“Oh, then that explains it,” Harry said sarcastically.

“It seemed like more of a second-semester-of-friendship revelation.”

“I see.”

Harry held the silence between them for a few moments more before he allowed the next question out. “She plays soccer?”

“One more of the long line of Weasleys that get athletic scholarships to Hogwarts College. Except for Percy— no, he was a disgrace, he got in on an academic grant.”

“The family disappointment, truly.”

Harry wanted to ask more about Ginny, but he held his tongue. His friendship with Ron was the most precious thing his sophomore year of college had yielded him, and he didn’t want to jeopardize it by prying further or making it seem like he had the hots for his sister. Even though he did. He suffocated that small voice at the back of his mind: he hadn’t even spoken properly to Ginny, just stood there like an idiot and let her quip freely about his tattoos— which, mind him, apparently were fodder for locker talk back at Hogwarts.

The buzz of the needle in the backroom as it started up brought Harry out of his thoughts, just in time to see a shit-eating grin appear on Ron’s face.

“I wish I could see her face right now,” he said gleefully, and Harry let himself stop thinking about Ginny to join Ron in picturing what Hermione Granger must look like seated in a tattoo parlor chair.

“It really wasn’t so bad,” admitted Hermione as they exited the tattoo parlor and went down the little steps back onto the sidewalk.

Despite his pretensions of malice, Ron’s nobility (which had never been in question, even despite his teasing) had shone through and yielded a considerably modest tattoo: a small, capital “R” in his own handwriting. Hermione, who had almost cried with relief after Ginny showed her the design, had chosen to get it on her left thigh, on the side and at the very top, right under her hipbone.

“Why did you get it there?” Harry asked as they resumed their brisk walk back to campus.

“It’s not a place you usually show. That means if a sleeve shifts or an interviewer sees, I don’t know, my ankle or something, they won’t notice it.”

“As if a tiny ‘R’ would disqualify anyone from a job, let alone you,” snorted Ron.

“Professionalism is a virtue, Ronald,” Hermione huffed, though her cheeks had gone red. “Besides, since that part of me is always covered, I’ll save myself from having to explain the story behind it to anyone that spots it.”

“Yeah, except the bloke that eventually undresses you and sees you in your panties. Try explaining what that 'R’ means to him,” said Ron. But Harry suspected Hermione wouldn’t have to: from how Ron’s eyes had widened and his gaze had lingered when Hermione had pulled down the side of her jeans ever so slightly to show them the finished product, exposing a sliver of her underwear, Harry could almost wager that Ron would be the bloke in question.

They walked in animated chatter for the rest of the way, the tattoo forgotten until Ron made a quip about Hermione now having crossed the gateway to joining a biker gang and Hermione going positively beet-red in the face with outrage. Then Harry, his hands in his pockets, simply smirked to himself and resigned himself to their bickering for the rest of the walk, knowing he was no longer needed in their exchange. Instead, he let his mind drift to Ginny. She hadn’t really spoken to him again, merely ducking out from the beaded curtain backroom and instructing Hermione on how to take care of her tattoo, saying only a general goodbye to the three of them as they exited the shop. There had been nothing in Ginny’s manner to suggest that she might be thinking of him as strongly, as irremediably, as he was of her, and yet there he was.

The main quad was mostly deserted, except for a few scattered groups of late-night library frequenters or sneaking couples, as the three of them crossed it to get to their dorm. Ron and Hermione didn’t stop arguing as they climbed the four flights up to their floor (the elevator, as usual, was broken), and only broke it off because Hermione reached her room before the boys reached theirs, slipping inside it and shutting the door before Ron had a chance to get the last word in.

“Well, that went well,” Ron shrugged as he and Harry kept walking down the hall to their room.

“You actually got her to get a tattoo,” Harry said with some admiration as they reached their door.

Ron grinned as he swiped the key card. “I may drive her crazy, but if anyone was going to get her to do something like that, it was going to be me.”

Ron pushed the door open and let them into their dorm room. He closed the door and, without taking off his coat, immediately flopped onto his bed— or, well, what could be seen of the bed under mountains of dirty or otherwise discarded clothes. Away from his mother’s chore-mongering for the first time, Ron had let himself go wild and go to the other extreme, but even Harry had to admit that the army of socks draped over the foot of his bed was beginning to smell a little stale.

“So,” Ron said, propping his head up, “no parties tonight?”

“Well, it’s a Wednesday,” Harry said.

“So what? There’s no party spirit around here?”

“Ron, it’s the last Wednesday before final exams. People are studying.”

“I wasn’t aware I was rooming with Hermione,” Ron grumbled. Harry had to admit she might have gotten to him a little. However, Ron’s irritation was short-lived, a grin appearing on his face again. “Wait, but we’re not people. We’re not studying.”

Harry surveyed the room and, despite his desire to throw in the towel for the night and have fun with Ron, felt a pang of dismay at just how much grosser it would be if they caved and did that (last time they had, they’d had a Pringle-eating contest, with devastating results for their sheets, which still had some crumbs). “No, Ron. We’re doing laundry.”

Ron groaned. “Jeez, now I’m rooming with my mother.”

“Okay, fine, you don’t have to do the laundry. I’ll do it for the both of us.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, go hang out with Dean and Seamus or whatever, see if you can get Hermione to do her second wild-card act of the day and make her stop studying to hang out with the guys.”

“Now I’m a man with a mission,” Ron said, perking up in delight at the prospect of teasing Hermione, or even seeing her once more that night.

“Just shove your clothes in the laundry bag before you go, won’t you? I don’t want to touch your nasty briefs more than I have to.”

Ron obliged, tossing all the clothes on and around his bed into his orange laundry bag and pulling the drawstring to close it. “I’ll update you on the Hermione thing,” he said cheerfully, hurrying out of the room and down the hall to the left to the room they’d left Hermione in.

Harry laughed to himself, wondering how long it was going to take Ron to realize why exactly he always seemed so eager to do anything Hermione-related, as he too threw his dirty clothes into a checkered drawstring laundry bag. Then, he hoisted one sack over each of his shoulders and opened the door using his ankle and leg to let himself out, his hands full with the laundry bags. He stifled a smirk as he passed Hermione’s room and heard the familiar bubbling sound of she and Ron rowing. If Harry knew her at all, he knew however much she might argue she’d be out of that room in an hour tops.

He groaned as he looked down the stairs, and rued the day he had been placed in the dorm with the shittiest elevator on campus. Resigning himself, he began to walk slowly down the poorly-lit stairs to the basement, where the laundry room was. However inconvenient this descent was, Harry was at least comforted with the knowledge that the laundry room would not be crowded, which would be the greater inconvenience once the elevator was fixed.

The basement was even dimmer, the white lights flickering and buzzing with electricity as Harry walked to the laundry room almost at the end of the hall. Sure enough, the laundry room was deserted, oddly quiet with none of the familiar hum and rattle of the machines as they worked. Harry knelt in front of a washing machine and began unloading the contents of the laundry bags into it, cramming them in so they’d fit because he sure as hell wasn’t shelling out quarters for two washers. When he’d made it all fit (which had involved the use of force to jam the door shut), he went to the shelf that held the communal detergent and poured it into the soap compartment. With that done, he dug out eight quarters from his pocket and inserted them into the washer’s slot, pressing the “Start Cycle” button when he heard the clink that let him know his quarters had been accepted. The washer rumbled slowly to life, jets of water trickling out as it began to spin in one direction and then the other, and it was a couple minutes before it was spinning at a hearty pace.

Rising from his crouch (he had always liked to watch the washing machine as it booted up to wash in earnest), Harry took the laundry bags and turned to head back upstairs, already thinking of what he might do to pass the time in the hour he had before he had to switch the clothes to the dryer.

He was so caught up in thinking of this that he didn’t see the person entering the laundry room at the same time as he was exiting, which ended in an awkward clash between them.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry blurted.

“No, it’s fine, I’m sorry too— Harry?”

Only then did Harry realize who he had bumped into, and only because she kept standing there did he believe it. “Ginny?”

She still wore her Hole shirt, but had discarded the ripped jeans, combat boots, and round-the-waist flannel he’d seen at the tattoo parlor. Instead, she wore frayed gray sweatpants and flip-flops, her hair pulled up from the long ponytail into a messy bun. She, however, somehow still managed to look almost unbearably beautiful. What’s happening to me?

“What are you doing here?” he asked, the only thing he could think of right that second. Spotting the laundry basket she was cradling, he added: “No laundry in your dorm?”

“No, yeah, there is one, but it’s always too crowded, it being a freshman dorm and all.” Harry nodded: his first year, he too had done entirely more laundry than he had to, and was thankful by the quarters he saved just by realizing he could wear a pair of pants more than once before they were dirty. “So I use the one here. Much quieter. I know Ron’s ID and password—”

“You do?”

“He gave it to me once so I could pick up his books from the library. And my memory’s great.” She gave him a half smile and looked beyond him at the laundry room. “Doing laundry?”

“No, I just like the ambience down here. The shitty lighting and bleach smell are really my style,” said Harry. Ginny laughed, and Harry felt a rush of pride at what was probably the first witty thing he’d ever said to her. “Need a hand?”

“I’d appreciate one, sure,” Ginny said, again smiling at him. Harry moved so she could walk into the laundry room, and watched her pick one of the washing machines that lined the wall. When she’d settled on one, he crouched down next to her and help her lob the clothes into the maw of the machine.

“Tattoo parlor let out early?” he asked as they placed the clothes inside.

“More like you guys came in really late. You were my last customers— I just cleaned up and closed after you left.”

“And you work there?”

“Sure beats a regular work-study, doesn’t it?” Ginny grinned. She tossed in a Tide pod that was left at the bottom of the basket, closed the door to the machine, and rose to find the quarters needed to activate it. “Oh, shoot, I left my wallet in my other pants—”

“I got you,” said Harry, digging for eight more quarters in his pocket. For once, he was glad of his bad habit of carrying an excess of loose change in his jeans, something Hermione already got on to him about (sometimes, like when she’d gifted him a money purse, not too subtly).

“Thanks,” Ginny said, picking the laundry basket up from the ground.

Harry listened for the telling clink and then pressed the button. The washing machine whirred to a start, but for once, Harry didn’t feel compelled to watch it boot up: instead, he turned to Ginny. “So how did you come to work there?”

“At the tat shop?” Ginny asked, hopping to sit on the top of the washer where her clothes were spinning. “My friend Luna’s dad, Xenophilius—”

“Gesundheit.”

“Shut up,” Ginny said, but the hint of a laugh was (to Harry’s satisfaction) visible on her lips again. “Anyway, Xenophilius owns the place. He set up in a college town because he knows college is the first time kids are truly free to make rash, impulse decisions.”

“Like getting a tattoo?”

“Exactly. And besides, all the college students love his New Age bullshit, they think it’s very 70s, so his shop is always full. He got a big boost after he started placing crystals in the shop windows.”

“He’s in with the kids, then?”

“Don’t tell him that, he’ll be mortified. But he’s great, really. A little eccentric, but great. He knows me from when Luna and I took an art class together in 10th grade, and he’s always complimented my art, so he helped me get my tattoo artist license as soon as I turned 18 and hired me.”

“Is Luna the girl with the shaggy blond hair and the weird glasses?”

“That’s her. Though I’m surprised you didn’t know her by her bottlecap necklaces. That’s usually what people comment on.”

“Does she work there too?”

“Yeah, though not as an inker, she’s useless with a needle. She designs a big chunk of the tattoos, though, both original designs and commissions or requests.”

“That’s awesome,” Harry said. He realized that was the first time through the whole conversation that he had stopped. He’d never hesitated on what to say next: conversation with Ginny had flowed easily, naturally, and he hadn’t had to think too hard to keep it going. Still, he was a little disappointed that it had stopped. Ginny, however, seemed to share in this, because rather than say goodbye and take her leave, she opened up a new topic.

“So how long have you and Ron been friends?”

“Er– since the start of this school year, actually.”

“Really? You’d think from how he talks about you, he’d known you forever.” Harry felt a flush of happiness at hearing that Ron talked about him.

“Well, I got him for a roommate this year, and we just clicked. Then it turned out we had a lot of the same classes. And we’re both on the soccer team, so it just got better from there.”

“It seems strange that you never crossed paths your freshman year.”

Harry shrugged. “I mean, freshman year is weird for everyone. I certainly felt like I was just bouncing from one place to another. I still hang out with a lot of the guys from last year, but my friends have changed. It makes sense— the first year, everyone is trying to meet as many people as possible, as if it’s a race, but by sophomore year you know more of what you want and what you’re looking for. In a way, I’m glad I met Ron now that I’m in a more stable place, now that I know my way around the college and have a better grip on things. I have a feeling he’s a friend I’m gonna keep.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re sticking around the Weasleys,” Ginny said, and Harry felt a tingle run up his spine. Was she… flirting with him? “And Hermione?”

“Oh, Hermione’s great, Ron and I would be dead by now if not for her— I don’t know how I got through a full year without her.”

“But she’s very different from you guys, isn’t she?”

“Well— on the surface, sure, but not in the things that matter. The fact that she went through with the tattoo tonight when she could’ve kicked up a fuss and bailed out tells you all you need to know.”

“So what I’m hearing is that Scamander Fellow Hermione Granger is as much of a bonehead as my brother at heart?”

“Stubborn, is the word I’d use. And only when Ron’s involved, actually.”

Ginny smirked. “Idiots. They haven’t even realized it.”

Harry knew exactly what she meant. “You think it too?”

“Oh, I’d bet on it. Ten bucks says they’re together by the end of the year.”

“Hey, did our visit by the parlor today teach you nothing about bets? They can be dangerous.”

“But I’m betting against you, aren’t I?” The way she said you made Harry’s heart skip a beat. “Fine, not ten bucks. But I’ll bet you a load of laundry, how’s that?”

“Deal,” said Harry, taking Ginny’s extended hand to shake it. The touch of her palm, with its long, slender fingers, sent warmth coursing down from his hand and the length of his arm. They let go and dropped hands, and perhaps it was just wishful thinking, but Harry thought he detected a certain reluctance in Ginny as they did.

Harry leaned against the washer, his propped elbow almost brushing up against her thigh. “How about you? How’s your first year going so far?”

Ginny winced. “As well as you’d expect, I suppose. Lots of people still behave like it’s an extension of high school, and I’m very much over that. But as things go, I’m having a blast. Being on the soccer team certainly helps.”

“Congratulations on that scholarship, by the way.”

“Thank you,” Ginny said, her wide smile revealing a row of perfect, square white teeth. “You’re on a scholarship too, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. My aunt and uncle would’ve never paid a single cent for me to go to college, so it was the only way. But I’m sure they were glad to be rid of me anyway.”

“They sound like lovely people,” Ginny said sarcastically.

“I should introduce them to this Xenophilius sometime. My uncle Vernon would have a stroke just walking into that shop.”

“Well, if you ever swing by, you have an insider contact,” Ginny offered, and Harry loved the implication of something, even something as simple as an 'insider contact’, between just the two of them. “I’d be happy to arrange a meeting, especially for such esteemed patrons.”

“I might take you up on that, if I ever planned on seeing them again,” Harry said. The words came out a bit more harshly than he’d expected, and the second silence in their talk set in, brought on by the darker implications of his family situation. Desperate to break it, Harry cleared his throat and geared up to talk again: “So, do you have any tattoos?”

He was relieved to see the smile, that coy, almost lopsided smile, appear on Ginny’s face again. “Actually, no, not a single one.”

“Do you think you’d ever get one?”

Ginny thought for a second. “I might, if something meaningful enough came around. And only if I was 200% sure. But really, I feel like one tattoo would lead to another, and then I’d never stop and run out of room on my skin. So it’s more of a containment mechanism, really.”

Harry smirked. “Hm. Interesting.”

Ginny broke out onto a full grin as she watched him. “What?” she asked, but when Harry’s smirk only deepened, she shoved him playfully, her touch on his shoulders eliciting the same warm sensation as the handshake. “What, Potter, tell me! Why is it interesting?”

“I mean, since you work at a tattoo shop, and you’re wearing a Hole t-shirt, I just thought you might be the type—”

“The Hole tee? Oh, don’t tell me you’re gonna gatekeep it, like you’re the type of guy who’d be like 'name three songs'—”

“No, not at all. As a matter of fact, I don’t know a lot of music by Hole. I really only know who they are because of that one Fall Out Boy song Courtney Love was featured in—”

Ginny winced. “Not Fall Out Boy, please.”

“Why? What’s wrong with Fall Out Boy?”

“Harry—”

“I know they get a lot of shit, but really, their first albums are pretty good—”

“Harry, you’ve gotta stop right here, or you’re going to make me stop finding you so attractive.”

And just like that, there it was, out in the open. Harry felt stun: he felt his mouth open to offer a witty retort, but no words came out. Because the girlish grin had evaporated from Ginny’s face and turned into a different, more mature look, her eyes smoldering slightly and her mouth slightly pouted.

“What about you?” she asked, her words slower, as if she was choosing each one individually. “If the soccer team gossip is true, I know you have five tattoos.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, his voice having dropped as well. “Yeah, there were a few tat shops around my neighborhood where the rules were pretty lax.”

“What are they?” Ginny asked.

“The tattoos? Well, the first ones I ever got were my mom and dad’s birth and death dates, on my wrist,” Harry said, rolling up the sleeve of his shirt to display two small lines of numbers, in plain black ink, on his forearm.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ginny said softly.

“Don’t be, I was really small when it happened. But I still wanted to pay them homage. Anyway, I’ll not bore you with my family history right now.”

“But tell me sometime?”

Harry was ecstatic at the implication that Ginny wanted to spend even more time with him. “Yeah,” he said, smiling at her. “Yeah, I will.” He moved on to the second tattoo, shifting the other sleeve up a bit to show Ginny a small black paw print in the center of his wrist. “This was my third one. My godfather was the only person my aunt and uncle would let me see while I was growing up, and even then only because he threatened them. And he had this huge, black shaggy dog, I think it was a Newfoundland, that looked almost like a bear, named Padfoot. I loved that dog, and every time I think of the happiest moments growing up, Padfoot’s in a lot of them. So when he died when I was sixteen, I got this to remember him by. It seems like a tribute to my godfather, too, so I like it doubly.”

He didn’t need encouragement from Ginny to keep going. He raised his left leg and propped it up on the washing machine by where Ginny’s legs hung, rolling his sock down a bit to show a green, line-art tuft of grass snaking above his ankle. “I got this when I got the soccer scholarship to come here. I wanted something to commemorate soccer, seeing as it’s not only, y'know, my passion, but also what got me out of that damn house for good. But I thought something like a soccer ball or a net or even the pitch outline would be too cheesy, so I got a bit of grass, y'know, as in the field…”

“Tasteful,” Ginny nodded her approval, and Harry felt newfound appreciation for that tattoo. “That’s three down, Potter.”

“I’m getting there.” Harry brought his leg down from the washer and turned his back to Ginny, taking his hand up to the nape of his neck and using it to shift the hair there upward to reveal the back of his neck where it turned into his back. “Can you see it?”

“The little lightning bolt?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s the story of that?”

“That was my second one. To be honest, I was a little ink-happy after my first one, so a couple of weeks after I got it I went back and got this.”

“But why a lightning bolt?”

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted, turning back around to face her. “I guess it was just cool.”

“Oh, very,” Ginny said, and the edge in her voice let him know she was teasing him. “That leaves us with one, then. The emblematic chest tattoo.” Again, the playfulness disappeared from her face and was replaced by that strange look, the one Harry couldn’t really decipher but really, really liked. “Tell me, then, Harry— is Romilda Vane right?”

It was only because of the suggestiveness in Ginny’s voice and the permanence of that look on her face that Harry did what he did next. His movements slow, he pulled his shirt off over his head, setting it on the washing machine right by where Ginny sat. He heard Ginny draw in a breath and it hitch in her throat as she saw him, her eyes moving over his bare skin to spot the ink blot that had brought this all on. Curled above his right pec was a small, S-shaped dragon, colored in red and gold.

“I win,” Ginny said, her voice still husky, as she extended her left hand to touch the dragon with her fingertips.

“Are you going to tell Romilda?” Harry said, his own right hand settling lightly on Ginny’s thigh.

“No, actually,” Ginny said, her palm now coming down flat on Harry’s chest. Her other hand had also drifted to him, and she had placed it on Harry’s left side, right below his ribcage, as if to hold the side of his torso. “I think I’d rather keep this moment to myself.”

And then she was leaning in and kissing him, touching her lips to his first with tentative softness that turned into a stronger, more determined fire as the kiss deepened. With both of Ginny’s hands on Harry, and one of Harry’s on Ginny’s thigh and the other supporting the weight of the kiss against the solidity of the washer, they leaned into one another. Harry’s mouth sought out Ginny’s eagerly, overcome by the fiery feeling pooling in his stomach and rising up to his throat through his chest, by the fact that everything he’d thought about on their walk back from Lovegood’s was coming true much sooner (and much better) than he’d expected. He felt Ginny’s tongue nudge at his lips and opened his mouth to let her in, engulfing more of her lips with his as he did so. Ginny kissed passionately, her tongue meeting Harry’s even as her teeth dug lightly into Harry’s lower lip, making him kiss her more deeply. With her this close, he was invaded by the flowery smell of her hair, by the soft feel of her skin, by the low humming sound she made as she kissed him. And everything was coming together, making the fire in his chest grow, and it was a good kind of burn, better than whiskey, better than anything—

The loud ding of the washer as it announced it had concluded its cycle startled them, and they pulled back from the kiss looking a little dazed, that one upbeat chime having been all they needed to bring them reluctantly back into the real world. Still Ginny didn’t take her hands off Harry, and Harry felt less than inclined to move his from her leg.

“I should, uh, switch to the dryer,” he said, the only thing that popped into his mind there.

Ginny tightened her hold around his middle and moved her hand from his chest, wrapping it around his upper back to draw him closer. “Oh, let it wait,” she said, and then she was kissing him again, and Harry was finding that the dryer could wait for hell to freeze for all he cared.

The sleepy sound of the chimes above the door didn’t even make Ginny raise her gaze from her stats study guide, which she’d pulled out to make the best of the not-too-busy lull at Lovegood’s. “We’re almost closed,” she announced to whoever had come in.

“You can’t make room for one last customer?” a familiar voice said, and only then did Ginny perk up immediately.

“Harry!” she said brightly, shutting the stats book as it became all-but-forgotten. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to add one more tattoo to the five I’ve already got,” said Harry. “Think you can give me my sixth?”

Ginny didn’t even need to say yes, just opened up the lift-up counter door and disappeared through the beaded curtain. “Flip the door sign to 'closed’ before you come through, will you?”

Harry obliged and flipped the sign before following Ginny to the backroom. He sat patiently on the tattoo chair as Ginny milled about, getting the supplies ready.

“Y'know, you never did tell me the story behind your dragon tattoo,” Ginny commented as she went through the sterilization procedure for the needles. “Seeing as we were, um, otherwise occupied…”

The memory of the kiss flooded through Harry with the same fire that he’d held in his chest ever since, the flame growing to engulf his whole body just hearing Ginny mention it. “Should I tell you now?”

“I’d like to hear it.”

“I got it as a tribute to my old headmaster back home, Albus Dumbledore. Funny old man, and incredibly cryptic, but he’s the one that first gave me the idea of applying for the scholarship and helped me get all my grades and papers in order so I could make it here. We were very close, and he had this saying that he used to tell me whenever I ended up in his office for getting into trouble— 'never tickle a sleeping dragon’, he’d say.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Harry laughed briefly and shrugged. “Hell if I know. But it was his catchphrase. So after I graduated, I wanted to get something to commemorate him, so I got the dragon from his favorite saying. He came with me and got it too.”

Ginny turned to him and eyed him quizzically. “Your headmaster got the tattoo along with you?”

“I told you he was a funny old man.”

Ginny pulled a pair of black latex gloves over her hands and rolled a wheeled office chair over to Harry, the needle in hand. “So by what I’m hearing, you only ever get tattoos of things that are extremely meaningful to you, right?”

“That’s right,” said Harry.

“So, Mr. Meaning, what’ll it be this time?”

Harry smiled. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it slightly upward, just enough to uncover his lower trunk. He pointed to a spot on the left side of his torso, right under his ribcage— right where Ginny’s hand had been, where her touch had been burned into his skin. “Right here,” he said. “I’d like a little washing machine.”

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest platonic #canon fest romantic #submission #hinny #harry x ginny #side romione

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cherryfabi · 4 years ago

Text

Angels Like You- 1

A/N: Hi! This will be a new series. It is inspired by Angels Like You by Miley Cyrus. I hope you like it! Feedback is always welcome.

Warnings: Cheating, smut, daddy kink. I think that's all.

Word Count: 2.5k

It all starts with a lie. People are used to saying them. At times they are necessary, but we find ourselves in trouble when more and more derive from them, creating a vicious circle.

It is foolish and irrational to believe that lies will never be known.

And for the past six months, Harry and Y/N have been doing just that. They’ve been lying. They've been seeing each other despite the fact that they both knew they shouldn't and couldn't, but they did anyway. We humans love the forbidden. We love everything that we know we cannot have. Every human falls into temptation, always. Harry and Y/N were no exception to this.

Both of them met when Y/N’s boss, Jeff, asked her to accompany him to an important dinner, she agreed. What she didn't know was that she was going to find the man of her dreams there, but unfortunately, he was already married.

It was none other than Mr. Harry Styles who Jeff was meeting that night. A serious, wealthy, attractive, and hardworking individual. He was well-known all over the world because he owned major corporations, hotels, and other businesses.

It is safe to say that he is everything a woman wishes for in a man. Every woman wanted to be with him. Everyone loved him because, after all, what's not to love about him? He’s successful, kind, respectful and handsome. What is there not to love? Well, maybe there is something... he's not who he appears to be.

Nothing is ever how it seems, and Harry is no exception; Y/N knows this better than no other person in the world.

It was late at night, and Harry was lying next to Y/N in her bed, talking about anything and everything. His business, his marriage, his life, and his issues. She cuddled up to him and listened to him. One of Harry's favorite things about her is how good of a listener she is. He also knows she’s trustable and nonjudgmental.

They lay in silence after Harry is finished, just enjoying each other's company.

“What’s on your mind?” Y/N asks him.

“You.” He answers immediately.

“Me?” He gives her a nod and she giggles.

“I’m thinking about all the things I want to do to you right now.” He says.

He kisses Y/N on the lips, she smiles and wishes it would never end.

“Let me get you out of these pajamas, princess.” Harry whispered in her ear.

Y/N quickly stands up and lets him get rid of her clothes.

He looks at her with hunger in his eyes and she can’t help but giggle a bit from how he’s looking at her.

“You look beautiful, angel.” He says. “Tits so nice, baby. So hard and perky for me.”

He leans down to reach her breasts and sucks on them. Harry loves her breasts, he always tells her how much he loves them.

“Could spend all day on your tits alone, but I know you're aching between your legs.” He says. “Right?”

“Yes, daddy.” Harry hated being called ‘daddy’, but that changed soon after the word slipped out of Y/N’s lips. Now, he loves being called that, but only if it is Y/N who’s saying it, otherwise he would find it weird.

He starts to kiss his way down to her crotch.

“I’ve barely done anything and you’re soaking, love.” He says once he reaches her pussy. “You smell so good,”

Just when he was about to have a taste of her, she interrupted him.

“Why do you still have clothes on? It's not fair, I’m the only one naked.” She pouts.

“Can you just let me do what I want?” He says. “You know what? I’ll just fuck you. I won’t even waste my time getting you ready, you’re already dripping.” He says, taking his clothes off.

His cock springs up hitting his abdomen. His tip swollen and red.

Seconds later she watches him position himself between her. He takes one of her legs and places them on his shoulder.

“This is what you wanted, didn’t you?” He asked.

“Yes, daddy.” Y/N answered. “Please, daddy, fuck me.”

“I don't want to hurt you, so tell me if it hurts.” She nods. “Love when you’re a good girl for me, makes me feel so good when you’re a good girl for me. Now, be a good girl and spread your legs for me.”

He stares at her pussy for some seconds before slamming into her causing her breath to hitch, and her walls to clench so tight around him she feels her pussy is pushing him out from the tightness.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight, nearly pushing my cock out.” He moans. “Clench around me.” He orders.

She listens to him and clenches her tight cunt around him. His trusts get harder by each passing second. He pushed his hips in a constant rhythm, pushing into her roughly. The thrusts got so rough that every time he’d thrust into her, the headboard would hit the wall with a loud noise.

“This is all you are to me, just a tight hole that I can fuck.” He moves one of his fingers to her clit and starts moving it in circular motions. Her moans get louder, and Harry starts to push into her faster and deeper, so fast that she can’t control the noises coming out of her mouth. The pleasure was too much for her and she tried to close her legs, but she didn’t succeed since Harry removed his finger from her clit and pressed her thighs really far apart. She knows that if he continued with this, she wouldn’t last too long and Harry would not let her come. It’s too soon, he would obviously not let her come just yet.

He starts circling her clit faster and harsher than before and she closes her eyes with pleasure. Even though she can’t see him, she knows what face he has right now. Eyebrows furrowed while he stares where their bodies connect. His breath getting uneven and his grunts increasing, meaning he’s not going to last either.

“I’ve fucked you so many times and you’re still so tight. Can barely move.” He moans.

He then starts to circle her clit again, trying to make her come.

In no time she feels that familiar build in her stomach. Her legs start to shake uncontrollably, fighting so hard to not come. She knows she can't come, not when he hasn't explicitly told her that she has permission to do so.

“Daddy, I’m about to come. Can I come?” She asks between moans, not sure if she could take it anymore.

He removes his finger from her clit. “Come,” He says.

So she does, she comes immediately after he says the word.

Soon after she feels him twitch inside of her and hears him grunt so deeply before talking to her.

“I can come inside of you, right?” He asks. She barely registers what he’s saying but nonetheless, she nods.

He thrusts into her slowly two more times before he spills all his warm come inside of her.

He stays inside of her for some seconds before slowly pulling out.

“You did so good, princess.” He tells her. She knows his orgasm hit him just as amazing as hers by the tone of his voice.

He lays back beside her. She cuddles him while they try to recover their breaths.

Y/N enjoys the comfortable silence there is, but she also does not like it. Everytime they finish fucking, she feels guilt. She feels guilty for messing around with a married man. Sure, she is aware that his marriage is failing and that Harry is dissatisfied with his current wife, but Y/N is also aware that this is not morally correct. She is well aware that she should not be doing this. And the ring on his left hand is proof of it.

She also feels pain, though. See, this is the thing about their affair: they both knew they had to keep whatever they had a secret. They couldn't reveal what was going on between them to the rest of the world. It would have been damaging for both of their reputations. She wished they could show the world how happy they were together, but they were unable to do so. Nonetheless, she wished for it.

Both he and she have enjoyed their secret relationship, of course, to different extents. Y/N knew Harry was only interested in her company and the incredible sex they shared, but Y/N fell for him, she knew the feeling was not reciprocal. She didn’t exactly know how to put into words what she felt for him, but whatever it was, she knew that this feeling was just one-sided. Whatever feelings she had for him were irrelevant at the end of the day; they couldn't be together for more than one reason.

“Harry?” She breaks the silence, he hums in response. “What are we? What am I to you?”

Harry turns to look at her.

"Y/N, I'm married, you know we can't be together even if I wanted to."

"Even if you wanted to?" She repeats. "So even if you weren't married, you still wouldn't want to be with me?" She gets out of bed and puts on her clothes.

"That's not what I meant, Y/N. Don't put words I didn't say in my mouth."

"Yes, you may not have said them, but isn't that the truth?" She sighed.

He doesn't respond and this infuriates her.

“I’m taking that as if I am just a good fuck to you.” She answers. He turns to look away. “I’m sick of this, Harry. I’m tired of the role I play in your life. I’m tired of the lies; I think we should stop this, we shouldn’t have started this in the first place.”

“You’re the only thing that makes me happy at the moment, I don’t want to lose you.” Harry spoke.

“You’re unbelievable! You're married, Harry! Right now, you should be with her, making your wife happy, and she should be making you happy as well, not me. You’re using me, and I'm not going to put up with whatever we've got right now.”

“How come you’re bringing this up now? We’ve been doing this for almost seven months now, and you have never complained about it, what’s different now?” He’s mad now too.

“If you want to stay with me, then divorce her. You always tell me you’re unhappy with her, then divorce her. I want a stable relationship; I'm tired of playing games; I want a normal relationship.”

“Y/N, you know I cannot give you what you’re asking for.”

“Then go, Harry. Get out of my house. Clearly you are never going to give me what I want, I’m done wasting my time.”

Harry sighed, knowing that there was nothing else he could do or say to make it better.

At the end of the day, she was right. He couldn’t give her what she wanted. So, really, what else could be done? Both of them stood in different places in their lives, and there was no way they could’ve made it work.

They both knew their relationship would end eventually, but neither expected it to end this way, on this day. Their relationship had ended for good; it was the most natural thing that could have happened.

Harry deep inside always knew that he didn’t deserve Y/N. He knew she deserves someone who would give her their entire love, someone who did not keep her a secret, she deserved someone much better than him... but he was too selfish to admit this.

“If that is your final decision, I will respect it. Bye, Y/N.”

And this is what Y/N meant when she said that she knows him and knows that he is not what people think he is. She knows that the only thing he cares about is himself, no one else, even if he tells you otherwise. And this is just what he has done. He’s trying to make her feel guilty for the decision she just made, but she will not let this affect her because she knows that he is as guilty as she is.

Harry might seem like a good and wise man, but on the inside he is a misery.

Y/N knows that he hurts people without remorse. And she has just experienced this firsthand.

Now all she has left to do is move on from this and live the normal life she used to have before she met Harry.

___

It's been two months since Y/N saw Harry for the last time. Two months since Y/N lies alone in her bed, not knowing anything about him. Two months since they shared their last kiss. Two months had passed since they called it quits.

After the breakup, Y/N is doing the best she can be. A breakup is never easy, but theirs was even worse. It was even harder for her to overcome because it was full of secrets, lies, and toxicity. But right now she’s alright. She has realized that she likes the life she has right now, there are no secrets, no lies… she likes it way better, but a part of her still misses him.

She deeply regrets getting with a married man. But on the other hand, she does not regret having met him. With him, she lived one of the best months of her life. She got to know a side of herself that if it weren't for Harry, she might never have known. Not everything with Harry was so bad at the end of it all.

“Y/N, I need to talk to you about something.” Jeff said to her.

“Yes?”

“Come in and take a seat.” Jeff said, indicating Y/N to come inside of his office. “So do you remember Mr. Styles?”

When Y/N heard his surname, a last name she thought she'd never hear again, she tensed up. “I do.”

“Good, well, he was just talking to me a few moments ago and said he needed an assistant, and I immediately thought of you.” He gave a warm smile. “I think you're a fantastic assistant, and you'll make a lot more money with him than you are here. He's also an amazing boss. What do you think? I believe this would be a fantastic opportunity for you.”

“But I’m your assistant.” Was all she managed to say.

“Don’t worry, at the moment I don’t think I need one, but he does. What do you think? Would you be interested?

Y/N knew that this would be a great opportunity, and she would have an amazing salary, but was it worth it? She was well aware that Harry and her were not on the best terms, but she knew that this job was a great opportunity.

“Sure, I’ll take it.” She said.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry smut #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles and reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst

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hogwartsmarvelmommy · 3 years ago

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Fallout of the Century 🌑💔

Part 1. 🥜

Word-count: 4.5K

Warnings- This is very angsty, Mentions of cheating, falling apart, and overall depression.

Masterlist

Summery: Your wold has practically fallen apart when you walk in on something you weren't supposed to see. Causing you and your soon to be husband Harry Holland to call of your engagement. Months pass and you are just trying to put the pieces back together. Will you ever be able to sort your life out?

My head came up from under the surface, breaking the water around me. I let out a gasp as I rubbed the water from my face. There was a banging at the bathroom door before it swung open with force. He swung the curtain open, exposing my naked body. He had seen me this way before, so the sight didn't even make him bat an eyelash.

“Seriously peanut? I was out there for like three minutes calling you.” His tone was harsh and firm, this was not the first time this had happened. Ever since the break up I just wasn't the same anymore, and the only one who saw the bad was Harrison.

“Sorry,” I muttered , slipping back below the surface of the water. Harrison’s hands reached in and grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up.

“We are not doing this again peanut,” he groaned as he pulled me to my feet, soaking himself in the process.

“Harrison, I'm fine,” I tried to convince him, but he knew otherwise.

“I know tonight will be hard, and I know you'll want to bail, and I know that you will hate it, but I'll be right here, and so will Tuwaine. We have to try and put this behind us,” He pulled the towel around my shoulders and helped me out of the tub. He walked me to my bedroom and stood in the doorway until I had a pair of leggings and a hoodie on. “You sure you want to wear that one?” he asked. I looked down, noticing I had grabbed Harry's pink hoodie, because I was in such a haze. I felt tears rush to my eyes as I pulled it off and grabbed one of my own. We walked down to the living room and sat on the armchairs, waiting. My hair was still wet, and Harrison’s shirt was damp from helping me out of the bath, but I was sure no one would notice. Or care.

First to arrive was Tuwaine, he walked over giving me a hug and kissing my forehead before finding his usual spot on the couch. Next it was Sam, then Tom, and then finally. Harry.

He didn't look good, not like himself, he looked sad and hollow, but i tried to ignore it. Six months ago there would have been one more person with us, but six months ago seemed like a lifetime away.

Harry walked past me, without even so much as a glance, which was no different than I had expected.

Harrison pulled out the board game and arranged it on the table in front of us. I looked up and caught Harry's glance, he instantly looked away. I sighed and went to get up but was stopped by Harrison’s voice.

“OK, this is going to go differently tonight. No name calling. No snide comments. No outbursts. None. and if anyone does, their buy-in is instantly up for grabs and you forfeit.” Everyone shook their heads at the new rules Harrison had put in place. It sucked to think Harry and I were the reason for it, but that's the way life works sometimes.

Our monthly monopoly games had become nothing more than awkward, so when Harrison had brought it up last week at dinner I was instantly ready to find anything else to do, But he insisted I be there.

So here I am, sitting across from the love of my life, broken and damaged and completely regretting agreeing to this.

“You're on my property Y/N, pay up.” Harry said coldly to me. I grabbed the five dollars I owed him and handed it over. I felt bad for our friends, the tension between us was so thick you could cut it with a butter knife. No one knew what had happened between us, but they all knew it had to have been bad.

“Where has Olivia been?” Tuwaine asked, not knowing where the girl had disappeared to. Truth be told no one knew, because I had told her if she ever showed her face or talked to any of them again I would do a lot worse to her than she did to me. I took a deep breath trying to keep my cool.

“I'm sorry Harrison, I just can't do this tonight,” I told him as I got up and stormed out of the living room. All I could think about was that night, the memories flashing through my mind.

“Harry baby, I'm home,” I yelled as I walked into our small apartment. I had been out of town on a business trip, but somehow made it home earlier than i expected. I had set my keys on the table and noticed a key chain that I recognized, but was not my fiance’s. I remember the tightening in my stomach as I walked down the hall and saw discarded clothing all the way to our bedroom. And when I opened the door, I was shocked to see the man I was set to marry in less than four months and my best friend laying naked and asleep in my bed.

There was a knock on my door and it opened slowly. I looked up expecting Hazza but instead saw the man I once would do anything for. “Can I come in?” He asked quietly. I nodded my head and scooted over on the bed giving him a spot to sit.

“They make you come up?” I asked him.

“No, they actually told me not to.” He said. “You still haven't told them?” He asked me softly.

“I have no reason to ruin the way everyone sees you, Harry,” I told him coldly. He nodded and I could see him chewing the inside of his cheek, a bad habit he had when he was stressed. “Stop doing that, you're going to put a hole in your cheek,” I told him. He laughed at that although it was a dry laugh.

“You know you're not the only one hurting Y/N,” He said boldly. I wasn't one to freak out, hell i was the calmest person i knew, but he had a way of just getting under my skin.

“No you're right Harry, I'm not. You must be devastated that you cheated on my with my best friend, you must be crushed that you wasted five years of your life just to throw it away over some dumb slut who was always out for your dick, You must be wrecked, not having to explain to all your family and friends that your wedding is canceled, and not having anything to tell them because your too loving of a person to ruin your ex’s reputation,” i took a deep breath trying to keep my cool, seemed to be a trend tonight.

“Well, you didn't exactly make the five years easy Y/N. I'm sorry I slept with Olivia, yes. But I'm pretty sure our relationship ended way before that,” I looked at Harry dumbfounded, our relationship had been perfect, never once was there any problems, until the week leading up to the fall out.

“Because I got a good job and was traveling more?” I demanded. He nodded his head and it took everything inside me not to punch him in the jaw. “Get out Harry,” I told him, annoyed with his presence in my room. “And take that stupid hoodie with you,”

He stood up standing at the edge of the bed and looked down at the pink hoodie, before looking back at me. I thought for a moment I saw the boy I had fallen In love with all those years ago shine through, but his face quickly contorted back to what he had become. "That one always looked better on you, keep it," he said as he walked out the door.

I wanted to scream and shout. I wanted to cry.

I wanted to feel anything.

But I just felt numb.

I walked around the apartment grabbing all the discarded clothes and Olivia's keys before walking back to my bedroom and throwing them on them sleeping in MY bed. “Forgot to clean up after yourselves” I shouted slamming the door closed. I heard rummaging around and Olivia shrieked.

“Oh my god what did we do?”

Harry came rushing out of our bedroom and found me standing in the kitchen. “Baby, i don't know what happened,” He was panicking. Maybe they had gotten drunk, maybe it was a spur of the moment thing, but no excuse would make up for it.

“I'm going to Harrison's, I'll be here to get my stuff in a few days,” Was all I told him that night. I walked out the door, my head held high and kept my composure until Harrison opened his door. I collapsed in his arms, every emotion flooding my body, I couldn't speak, or move.

I rolled out of bed and looked at my alarm clock. 2am. I was sure the boys would probably still be down there playing the game. I needed to go and get a glass of water, so I walked downstairs and to the kitchen. Just as I thought they were all still huddled around the coffee table, empty beer bottles all around them.

“Peanut!” Tom exclaimed as soon as his eyes saw me, “I thought you went to bed,” He was drunk, and I was sure he wasn't the only one.

“Need water,” I told him, giving him a weak smile.

“She sleeps with like five bottles next to the bed,” Harry laughed. I rolled my eyes and walked into the kitchen. I could hear some of the conversation from the kitchen but nothing sparked my interest until I heard Harry say. “Well if i would not have slept with Olivia then nothing would be fucked up, so its my fault anyway,” all the noise subsided.

I stepped out of the kitchen with my water in hand and looked at Harry who was sitting with his face in his hands, and everyone else was staring at him, with their jaws on the floor.

“Is that why you guys broke up?” Tom asked. He wasn't asking me, he needed to hear from his brother. I had kept all of the bad to myself, not wanting anyone to look at Harry like a monster. Cause i knew he wasn't one.

Harry didn't move his hands from his face, “I fucked it all up,” He groaned. I felt a twinge of guilt rush over me and I went to go comfort him despite how much he had hurt me, but Sam stood up as soon as he saw me take a step, shaking his head. I nodded and scurried off to my room, soon after I heard my door open, and Harrison walked in, flipping my light switch on. “You didn't tell me.” He said.

“Didn't want you to see him differently,” I told him quietly.

“With Olivia?” He asked as he walked over to my bed.

“Yeah,” I scoffed. “I'm not innocent in this though, so please don't feel sorry for me,” I told him.

“How are you not innocent?” He asked me.

I thought about whether or not I wanted to tell Harrison, would he think as low of me as Harry now did? “Before me and Harry got together. One night we were all out at a pub, and me and Tom snuck off and, had sex. The next day he told us he blacked out and didn't remember anything, so I never brought that night up. Me and Harry started dating like a month after that, but I kept that secret. Until I threw it in his face to hurt him.” I sighed. I didn't want to look at Harrison, I was scared he would look at me like a monster.

“That was before you together though, it's not the same nut,” He said, surprising me.

“Maybe not, but it was still shitty of me,” I told him. He shrugged his shoulders and then we started to hear yelling downstairs. Harrison got up and left to go see what was going on.

About an hour passed and the yelling had stopped and so had any noise. I assumed everyone had gone to bed or left. My door opened quietly and then shut. There was a shuffling as someone climbed into bed next to me. I rolled over and before my eyes even made out who it was, the smell hit me. So familiar yet so distant.

“Harry,” I whispered, looking at the ginger boy whose eyes were puffy and nose was red, surly from crying.

“I know,” He whispered. “I just, can I please, just tonight?” he asked. I wanted to be strong and tell him to get out of my room. I wanted to push him off my bed. I wanted to hate him. Truth be told, I missed him. Sleeping in his arms, his curly hair tickling my face as he snuggles into my neck, the sweet kisses he would litter my body with.

“Just tonight,” I told him firmly. A smile spread across his lips and he pulled my body into his, holding me close, instantly falling back into a routine we both knew so well.

“Hey miss,” A voice called from behind me. I turned to see Harry running after me.

“Harry?” I asked recognizing him from a few nights we had bumped into each other at clubs and parties.

“Oh you remembered?” He asked surprised.

“I mean a face like that is pretty hard to forget,” I chuckled.

“I was wondering if I could take you out? On a date?” He was nervous to ask me.

“Yeah, id- Id like that a lot,” I told him, a smile spread across his face as we exchanged numbers.

I didn't know then how much I would love him. Also how much I would hate him.

I opened my eyes and looked down to see the familiar arms still around me holding me tight. He was drunk last night so i hadn't been mad about him crashing in my bed, but i wasn't sure i wanted to lay here cuddling him. “Harry,” I said as I wriggled my body trying to get out of his firm grip.

“Five more minutes,” He groaned.

“Harry,” I said a bit more forcefully, making his arms loosen their grip so I could get up. “I have to get ready for work, and you should probably go,” I was practically whispering.

“Peanut,” He started, but then shook his head. “You're right, I should go,” he pushed himself up and then stood up from the bed. He looked at me for a minute standing at the end of my bed with my arms crossed, I was sure I looked pathetic. He stepped forward, coming dangerously close to me. He reached out letting his fingers brush across my cheek. I felt the tears rush to my eyes, but held them back. “Will we ever be able to fix this?” He asked quietly. I bit my bottom lip, hard, trying to figure out how to respond.

“Is there anything worth fixing anymore?” I asked him. Looking up and seeing the hurt in his eyes.

“I think a life with you is worth fixing,” He muttered. “I'm sorry,” He said before he walked out of my room.

I threw myself onto my bed and groaned. My life honestly sucked. I got out of bed and got ready for work. I walked down to the kitchen to see Harrison drinking a cup of tea. “Hazza,” I smiled.

“I don't like it,” he said softly. I turned to him as I poured my coffee.

“Don't like what?” I asked.

“Him trying to weasel his way in. you deserve more than him, and he knows it,” i was caught off guard by his sudden anger towards Harry.

“Harrison, I-” I was quickly cut off as he stepped forward, grabbing my face and pushing his lips into mine. I was going to push him away, but I found myself kissing him back. He broke his lips away from mine and left the kitchen without so much as a word. Leaving me standing there, dumbfounded and confused.

I grabbed my keys and left the house. Maybe work would be less confusing than my morning.

“Try it,” Harry pushed the sushi in my face.

“Harry, it has raw fish,” I complained, pushing it back.

“Babe just take a tiny bite, you might just like it,” He told me. I rolled my eyes and took the smallest bite, chewing for a minute and then spitting it in the napkin.

“Awful, just like I thought,” I told him.he laughed as he pushed the sushi to the side and leaned forward, kissing me.

“I love you,” He whispered for the first time.

“You do?” I asked. He nodded his head and kissed me once more. “I love you, Harry,” I told him.

Work flew by, faster than I would have hoped. My day had come to an end and I was sitting in my car, debating on what to do, when my phone started to ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it's me,” id recognize that voice anywhere.

“What do you want Olivia?” I asked.

“Can we just talk? I miss you.”

“I don't want to talk to you, and i don’t miss you,” i hung up the call without letting her respond. I just wanted to crawl into a whole and die.

I drove home, and parked in my spot. I wasn't sure I wanted to go in. Harrison had kissed me this morning. Which in and of itself was weird, but add on top of that that I had spent the night with Harry. I threw my head back hitting the headrest, I let out a loud groan as I grabbed my phone and dialed a number I had dialed too many times to count.

“Are you OK?” His voice was full of concern and worry, I hadn't called him in months.

“I'm so lost, Harry,” I said quietly.

“Like you need me to come and find you? Or metaphorically?” He asked me, i could sense the smirk through the phone.

“Metaphorically, I guess.” I told him.

“I can come to you if you want,” He sounded hopeful and eager.

“No.” I just wanted to talk to you,” I muttered. Why had I called him anyway? Did I enjoy torturing myself? “Do you remember the first time you told me you loved me?”

“The sushi date? Of course I do nut,” He said quietly.

“I was sure that that was forever. That day, I knew it was you, and it always would be. Looking back, we were so happy. So why did you do it?” I had never given him a chance to explain what had happened that night, every time he would try I would storm off or yell. I think deep down I didn't want to know the truth, but if I was going to figure out what I was doing I needed to know all the facts.

I heard him sigh through the other side of the phone. “I missed you, probably too much. She had come over for some reason, and I had been drinking, I don't even remember it. I just remember waking up, to you throwing clothes and shoes at us, and then seeing your face. I… I didn't know it was possible to physically feel your heart shatter, but that night I did. I felt my whole world slip out from under me,” He sounded sincere.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Tom. That wasn't a fair secret to keep, I should have told you as soon as I knew he was your brother,” I said.

“It was none of my business, It happened before we even knew each other,” he said.

“I love you Harry. I do. But i don’t what to do,” I whispered.

“I love you, I'll keep fighting for you, for us. This can't be how we end, ours was the epic one, the love story for the ages,” he said.

“And it was the fallout of the century,” I whispered as I hung up.

I walked into the house, not sure what to expect. Harrison was standing in the kitchen cooking something and Tuwaine was on the couch watching TV. “Smells good,” I told Harrison as I walked over to beside him.

“It's your favorite,” He said, giving me a big smile.

“What's the occasion?” I asked. He looked at me with a goofy grin and his crystal blue eyes.

“Just thought you could use a little pick me up,” He leaned over kissing my forehead, which was not out of the ordinary.

“I definitely do need it,” I said as I went to the couch, throwing myself down next to Tuwaine.

“Work?” He asked me.

“It was fast, so not bad” I smiled at him.

“And are you OK? I mean last night was kind of a lot for all of us,” He muttered.

“I will be, in time. I just need to figure out what I need and want,” he looked over his shoulder to Harrison who was distracted with his cooking.

“I don't know if you know this or not, but he's in love with you, and I know Harry still is too. Things are probably going to get really complicated,” He warned me.

“I don't even know what to do. Harry crushed me, like soul shattering pain, but I still love him. And Hazza, i mean i love him so much, but I've never considered him as anything other than a friend,” i told Tuwaine.

“Well, you never had to consider Hazza as anything else, cause you had Harry, and now you don't. So you can make the choice for yourself. Maybe Harrison is who you were meant to be with, and Harry was just keeping you close until Harrison was ready,” he whispered, shrugging his shoulders. I laughed at that.

“Damn,” Harrison said from the kitchen. We both looked back to see him staring at us.

“What?” I asked him.

“I missed the sound of your laugh,” He said, making my cheeks go red. Maybe Tuwaine was right.

We ate dinner and talked and laughed about our days, before turning in for the night. Tuwaine’s room was on the opposite side of the house than mine and Harrison’s, so Harrison walked me to my bedroom door.

“I'm sorry about this morning, that may have been out of line,” he ran his hand through his wavy blonde hair.

“You don't need to apologize to me,” I told him, grabbing his hand. “I just don't know if I'm ready to move on, or not,” I whispered.

“Well, when you decide you are, you know where i'll be,” He leaned in, pushing his lips softly against mine before walking across the hall to his room. As if my life wasn't already confusing.

“Harry!” I groaned as we hiked up the tall hill.

“Just a bit farther, baby, I promise the view will be worth it,” He told me. We reached the top of the hill just as the sun was setting over the horizon. It was a breathtaking view. I turned to Harry, or where he should have been, but he wasn't there. I turned around to see him down on one knee in front of me holding a little white box.

“I know this is cheesy, but I'm a little cheesy. I've known for so long that you were my forever, my happily ever after. I can't imagine my life without you in it, and I don't want to. Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?” He flipped the box open revealing a white band ring with a black and blue stone, something I had always said I wanted.

“Oh my god Harry, yes i'll marry you. A million times yes!” I exclaimed , pulling him to his feet and jumping into his arms.

How did we go from that to now?

I was sitting on my bed, going through pictures when my phone vibrated. I looked down and it was a text from Harry.

‘You think I could swing by for a minute?’

I knew I should tell him no, but I was curious as to what he wanted at this hour.

‘Sure’ I texted him back. I heard the front door open almost as soon as the text was delivered, and then my door opened and he stepped into my room, shutting the door behind him.

“You came before texting?” I asked him.

“I forgot to, until I pulled in,” He sighed. “What are you doing?” He asked me.

“Going through all these pictures. I want to frame a few, just don't know which ones,” I told him. He walked over grabbing one of the photos that I had in a pile, it was from when he proposed, a stranger had taken it for us. The picture itself was blurry but it was still my favorite.

“That one was always my favorite,” He said, setting it back down. I nodded in agreement.

“So what brings you over?” I asked quietly.

“Um, Olivia called me.” He said. My eyes shot up, my brows were furrowed and I could feel the anger rising inside of me. “She said you won't talk to her, and she just wants to apologize or something,” he sighed. “I didn't answer her, that's just what she said on my voicemail,”

“Well i’m not going to call her, i don’t need her stupid apology,” I said blankly. “It sucks knowing my best friend came over to my house and took advantage of my intoxicated fiance. like I could maybe forgive you, in time. But I want to kill her, with every fiber of my being, I want to hurt her.” I took a deep breath, and looked at the pictures in my hands.

“Yeah,” was all he said.

“Maybe we should try dating,” I told him quietly.

“Each other?” He asked me.

“No, I mean other people. We should probably put ourselves back out there, and who knows maybe we will hate it and come back together. But it's been six months, we have to start moving on,” I sighed.

He stood there looking at me, his eyes full of hurt and confusion, and I felt bad, but I knew that this was something we both needed. “Yeah we probably should do the dating thing, i'm not sure where I'd even look, but yeah,” He said. I rolled my eyes and laughed.

“There is that girl at the coffee shop, she used to eye fuck you,” i told him.

“The barista? Shelby?” I nodded, recalling how irritated I used to get when her eyes were all over him. “Maybe I'll ask for her number, or something,” He laughed. “And you?”

“Hmm?”

“Where will you look?” he asked.

“For dating? Oh I don't know.” I said, which was a blatant lie.

“Okay, well I should go,” he smiled before leaving my room and then the house.

I moved the pictures that were scattered across my bed to my dresser, and laid in my bed. I regretted telling Harry we should date other people, I think seeing him with someone would crush me even worse. I knew it was for the best though, we needed to give ourselves this, the chance to move on, to be happy, without each other. We had spent so long together that I had forgotten how to do the dating thing.

“I found my dress,” I teased as I climbed onto Harry's lap. “It accentuates all the best parts of my body,” I leaned in letting my lips brush his earlobe before whispering “Your favorite parts,”

He grabbed my ass squeezing it hard.

“Can't wait to see you in it baby, I'm sure I'll be blown away,” he smiled sweetly.

I leaned in to let our lips devour each other, until we needed more.

And he never saw the dress, and he probably never would.

Part 2 🥜

#harry robert holland #harry holland #angst #harrison osterfield #cheating #tom holland

52 notes · View notes

malfoymanortings · 4 years ago

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somebody else PT 2

SUMMARY: Mae has been in love with Draco Malfoy since her first year at Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy fell in love with Mae in their fourth year, and then promptly fell into Pansy’s bed instead. All the while, Mae clings to the hope that Draco will change. That is, until, Ron Weasley takes his chance.

PAIRINGS: toxic!Draco x OC, Ron x OC, Ginny x Luna

im not sure that I like how this turned out, but hopefully you all enjoy it! I was very surprised I got so much positive feedback on that little one shot i posted. thank you all for the love!

also, let me know if you want to be on the taglist for the next part.

Perhaps it was her conversation with Ginny the previous night, or perhaps it was because she felt so hollow inside, but Mae resolved herself on confronting Draco. Of course, he didn’t make things easy for her. He never did.

“Pansy and Draco are sitting awfully close, aren’t they?” Blaise said conversationally, taking a sip of his morning coffee. Full of cream, three sugars. As always.

Mae eyed Draco and Pansy warily, noting the way Pansy laughed into Draco, her hand seeming to move onto his leg although it was hidden from the table. “They’re just friends.”

“Rubbish,” scoffed Blaise harshly, stabbing an egg. “You’re much smarter than that, love.”

Pansy took that moment to brush Draco’s hair out of his face, and something broke inside Mae as Draco caught her hand in his own, bringing her knuckles to his lips and ghosting a kiss across them.

“It’s none of your business though, innit?” snapped Mae, slamming her glass of pumpkin juice down so harshly it brought the attention of the entire half of their table, including Draco and Pansy. “If Draco wants to fuck a slut, let him.”

Blaise choked on his eggs, slamming a fist into his chest as he attempted to swallow. Draco tilted his head, a sneer on his face, while Pansy began hurling insults at Mae.

“Perhaps if you weren’t a filthy half-blood, Draco would be more interested. He wants a real woman.” Pansy declared wickedly, her lips lifted up in a snarl.

“A real woman with real STDs, hm?” retorted Mae, standing up from the table. “Everyone knows you fucked Theodore Nott last week, and he had to go to Madam Pomfrey from whatever you gave him!”

The part about Pansy fucking Theodore Nott was true, although the STD part was not. But Mae was so angry, so fed up with how the both of them were treating her, that she couldn’t contain it anymore. At this point, most of the Great Hall had caught sight of what was happening, although the teachers at least pretended to be oblivious. She caught sight of Ginny grinning at her encouragingly.

“I’m going to be honest with you, because no one else will,” Draco said the words slowly, casually, as though he were speaking of the weather. “Anyone who says they’re interested in you, beyond just fucking you, is a liar.”

Mae felt her cheeks burn, as the Slytherin table began laughing and oohing under their breath, and she rushed out of the Great Hall. She heard footsteps behind her, but she ignored them, until someone tugged harshly on her arm, the rings on his fingers alerting her to who it was.

“Why?” demanded Mae, turning around with unshed tears. An amused Draco stood in front of her, looming over her. “Why do you do this to me?”

Perhaps the question caught him off guard, because Draco replied with “I don’t know.”

Mae let out a strangled sob, wiping her hands harshly down her face. “I just want to be the one you love.”

“Oh darling,” Draco said the words softly, reaching out to caress her cheek. Mae closed her eyes for a moment, and she could pretend everything was fine. “I’ll never love you.”

With those words, Draco shoved her jaw harshly, causing a loud popping noise to sound as pain reverberated through the lower half of her face.

“I’m breaking up with you.” Mae said the words first, opening her eyes to see Draco actually looking.. Hurt, by her words.

“Took you long enough.”

Mae looked to see Ginny heading her way, her hand intertwined with Luna’s, with the Golden trio, Pansy, and Blaise following close behind.

“We would have never made it anyways.” Draco responded quietly, and Mae felt a bit vindicated to see that he appeared to feel at least partially upset.

“That’s your fault.” her voice shook, but Mae said the words passionately.

“How?” he had the nerve to sound incredulous, and Mae balled up her fists as tears of anger came to her eyes.

“You always cheated on me with Pansy! You treated me like I was your pet, like you could keep fucking around without any care for my feelings!” the words she had been keeping in for so long burst out, and she felt a rush of vindication that she finally got to say them aloud.

Draco scoffed, and any hope of him apologizing or fighting for her went out the window. “You really think I give a shit about you? It’s your loss, Callisto.” he sneered her last name, looking over his shoulder to see the others approaching them.

Mae’s eyes hardened, hatred growing as Pansy ran pathetically over to Draco. “Your whore’s here.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Sorry you don’t know how to keep a man.”

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be Callisto,” Draco drawled out, slinging an arm over Pansy. “Nobody likes a slut that doesn’t understand when her time is up.”

“What did you just say?” Ron Weasley was the last person Mae expected to speak to Draco after he said those words.

Draco scoffed. “You heard me, Weas-”

Before Draco could get the full word out, Ron’s fist collided with Draco’s delicate features. Mae’s eyes widened as Ron wound his fist back once more, knocking Draco flat on his back. Pansy started screaming, and Blaise started laughing.

“Blaise, help him!” Pansy shrieked, slapping a hand to her mouth in horror.

Blaise sighed, rolling his eyes. He gave Mae a quick look, (perhaps in an apology?) before he gave Ron a swift kick to his stomach. Ron stumbled backwards, falling on his bottom, and Draco lay on the ground clutching his bruised and bloody face.

Pansy promptly threw herself down onto Draco, and Blaise stood there with his arms crossed as though he were just waiting for the show to be over. Mae, on the other hand, had nothing left to say to Draco, and turned her attention to Ron, who had just gotten off the floor with the help of Harry.

“Thank you,” the words were quiet, but sincere. Ron nodded to her, his eyes not wavering from hers.

“He’s not worth it, yeah?” said Ron, shaking his bruised knuckles. “He never deserved you.’

Mae, suddenly flooded with emotion, just shook her head, and with tears burning in her eyes, she left the scene behind her.

--=--

The hardest thing was seeing Draco be so openly affectionate with Pansy. It broke her, each time she entered the common room to see her sitting on his lap. Getting a kiss on the cheek. A hug. A tender embrace. It burned like hell.

So, she began spending less time in the common room. She began joining Luna and Ginny on their outings, normally in the astronomy tower, and at some point, the Golden Trio started joining them. It became a routine, the six of them hanging out in either the tower or the library, if Hermione got her way.

On the bright side, her grades had never been better.

A month after the incident with Draco, Mae found herself feeling the wound particularly harshly. She paced outside the Gryffindor common room, hoping to find Ginny coming out of the portrait hole. Instead, she got Ron Weasley, who didn’t seem all too surprised to find her out there.

“You alright?” Ron asked awkwardly, halfway in the doorframe and halfway out.

Mae shook her head silently, her chest aching. “Not really.”

“How ‘bout we take a way, yeah?” suggested Ron, stepping out of the portrait hole. It swung shut loudly behind him.

Mae shrugged her shoulders, and together they walked in silence. They had no clear destination in mind, and Mae found she felt slightly better having his company around her. Ron, she had found, had a fairly dry sense of humor and it was ever so easy to laugh around him. Sometimes, the others didn’t quite understand the joke, but Mae always did. His humor was similar to hers, if she could just find it again.

“I always wondered,” Ron broke their silence, stopping to sit on a ledge overlooking the black lake. “If the squid really existed.”

“Oh, it does,” Mae assured Ron, hopping up on the opposite side of the stone ledge, wrapping her robe tightly around herself. “Sometimes in the common room, we get to see it swim by.”

Ron’s eyes flashed with admiration. “Wicked.”

“I suppose it might be a bit more exciting than overlooking the grounds,” Mae said the words pretentiously, sniffing as she hid a grin from Ron. “We get to see the inside of the black lake, while you boring Gryffindors just get landscape.”

“At least during winter we haven’t got to sleep under ten blankets just to get by,” protested Ron, bringing a hand up to brush his hair out of his face. “Then again, you might just have an iron deficiency.”

Mae’s eyes widened. “That’s a big word for Ronald Weasley.”

“Hermione mentioned it!” defended Ron, moving his hands as he spoke. “She’s the one who suggested you go to Madam Pomfrey for it! You’re always freezing!”

“It’s a perk of being damaged goods, I suppose.” Mae said the words without much thought, as she had gotten distracted by Ron’s rather large hands moving around.

Ron went still, and he gave Mae a confused look. “Damaged goods?”

Mae’s feelings of inadequacy came back, and she felt the stinging of tears hit her eyes. She tried to play it off, giving a weak laugh. “Well, yeah, what else would you call me?”

“Beautiful,” the word rolled off Ron’s tongue rather quickly, as though he hadn't had to think about it at all.

Tears slipped out of her eyes as Mae processed his words. How could anyone think she was beautiful? Couldn’t he see how damaged she was? Draco had used her up and thrown her out, and no one else would ever want his seconds. He had told her that many times.

“Don’t,” the words came out wet and wobbly. “Don’t lie to me.”

Ron was rarely serious, but he completely focused on her as he reached out to grab her hand in his large one. “Mae, why would I lie about that?”

The tears came freely now, and she could feel a sob building up in her chest. “Ronald Weasley, don’t you dare sit there and lie to me! Don’t fucking sit there, and tell me I’m beautiful, because I’m not. I’m used up and I’m damaged, I will never be anything beyond that!”

Before she could protest, Ron had pulled her into a hug, engulfing her small frame in his large one. Mae had forgotten what it was like to be embraced like this, and she buried her head into Ron’s wide chest as she cried. In the back of her mind, she understood that was likely having a panic attack.

“Calm down Mae,” Ron held her close, caressing her hair. “You’ll be alright.”

They sat like that, until Mae’s cries subsided and she took a shaky breath, pulling out of Ron’s embrace. She was suddenly embarrassed that she had overreacted as she did, and a blush stained her wet cheeks.

“‘M sorry about that,” mumbled Mae, wiping her cheeks roughly. “I didn’t mean to make you all soggy.”

Ron laughed at that. “Why would I complain, a beautiful girl cried on me today. Sounds like a win to me!”

Mae hit Ron on his arm for that, a small laugh coming out of her as well. If anything, Ron Weasley knew how to switch the mood. “Don’t be a prat, Weasley.”

Ron’s eyes crinkled in the corners as he tossed his head back in a loud bout of laughter, and Mae found herself staring at his full lips. Really, how had she not noticed how perfectly shaped Ron’s lips were before? And Merlin, how were his teeth so straight and white?

As quickly as she began admiring Ron Weasley, images of silver hair and grey eyes flashed through her mind, and she shut her eyes and swallowed hard. There would never be Draco and Mae, that much was clear. It did not do to dwell on things that would never change.

“Imagine leaving me for a Weasley.”

Mae’s stomach dropped as she saw Draco swaggering towards her and Ron, Blaise close behind him. She hated how she still got butterflies as he eyed her appraisingly, before sneering at Ron.

“Shut it, Malfoy.” snapped Ron, his ears growing pink as he dug in his robes for his wand.

“Oh,” whistled Draco, drawing out the vowel. “Weaselbee is going to show off how big of a man he is. Trust me, Weasel, been there, done that. I’m the best she’ll ever have had.”

“Tell me Malfoy, you ever been hexed so hard you had to fight for your life?” snarled Ron, standing before the silver haired boy and brandishing his wand.

Mae quickly got down from the stone ledge, standing in between Draco and Ron, placing a hand on both of their chests. “Both of you, stop it!”

Ron’s jaw clenched, and he didn’t lower his wand. Draco smirked at the sight of her hand on his chest, his eyes flicking down at it before backup to look her in the eyes.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Mae said the words firmly, glaring at Draco. “We aren’t together anymore. Stop acting like this.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t fight little Weaselbee.” drawled Draco, flexing his fingers on his wand. “I still had you first.”

“And I fucking left you!” shouted Mae, shoving Draco back from her and Ron. “Get that through your thick skull, and go back to Pansy. The bitch you always cheated on me with!”

“You said you loved me.” Draco said the words softly, bitterly, so quickly that Mae almost didn't catch it.

For a moment, it felt as though it were just the two of them, Draco and Mae, just as it should have been.

Mae stepped back, away from Draco, away from Ron. Her mouth twitched, her eyes grew wet, and she was at a loss for words. She turned then, and hurried out of the courtyard.

How dare he do this to her.

taglist: @xoxohollands @phantomsmalfoystyles @lidiyabest @justmimithings

Part one

Part three

#draco imagine #draco x y/n #draco malfoy #draco x oc #ron weasley #ronald weasley #ron weasley x oc #ron weasley x reader #toxic draco #harry potter #hp #ron x y/n #ron x mae #draco x mae

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bellshells · 4 years ago

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Nobody Can Know Part 3

Part three of nobody can know, I’ve actually split part three into two (maybe three) different parts. It was burgeoning on upwards of 35k words and I figured it’s too much in one post, so I’ll be posting what is now part four soon. Thank you for bearing with me whilst I got my shit together, and as always, I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: George Weasley x Fem!Slytherin Reader Warnings: Smut (start as we mean to go on amirite), Langauge, Alcohol, Smoking, Threat(?), Angst Summary: It all goes tits up lads, that’s all I’m going to say. Word Count: 11k+ Part One Part Four @alpha-cera

“George,” You moaned, a new wave of sheer pleasure coursed through you and built deep in your stomach. The red head on top of you frowned, his brow furrowed; a thin sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead. He continued his thrusts, each eliciting a smothered moan from your parted lips.

“Quiet, witch. You’re going to let the whole house know how well you’re being fucked.” George scolded, he placed a large hand over your mouth and quickened his pace. He filled every inch of you and yet you yearned for more. George flicked his hips against yours, gritting his teeth to suppress the moan that threatened to escape. You knew you wouldn’t last much longer, especially with the muggle vibrator fixed to your clit with the help of a sticking charm. You whined against George’s hand; you could taste the saltiness of his skin as you gazed up into the face of the person you loved most in the world. His eyes were half closed, and lips parted with a sigh that fell effortlessly from them, you overcome with love for him. George. He was yours and you were his.

You hadn’t considered how much your life would change in the short time since you had arrived at The Burrow, how life in general would be different. You certainly hadn’t imagined going from the sprawling grounds of your family’s estate to a tiny flat above a joke shop in Diagon Alley. You weren’t there though, not tonight. Not in your flat which you had lovingly filled with books and exotic plants with a window seat big enough for two. No, you were in a single bed surrounded by wallpaper that peeled sadly from the walls and a faint muskiness from the heavy, moth-eaten curtains. Voices carried from beneath the floorboards of Grimmauld Place as the iron bedframe began to skid across the dusty floor. You knew you had had maybe ten or fifteen minutes before the meeting was the begin; so in true George fashion he had suggested you slip away, far up the creaky staircase to the very top of the house, where a dark attic room waited. It had been a struggle at first, manoeuvring the small space as George had tugged hungrily at your clothes. The bed was small, almost humorously so. It reminded you of your bed at Hogwarts, and how you had been shocked and a little impressed when Fred had told you he had managed to sneak Angelina into his dorm and they had shared his tiny bed. A few misplaced arms and a foot set firmly on the floor had allowed George to gain a delicious purchase of your frame, and he wasted no time in running his throbbing head against your slick folds.

Your eyes widened as George’s hand slipped from your mouth and wrapped around your neck, he squeezed tightly, and your eyes rolled back in delight. You absolutely adored it when George was rough with you, you knew he was really enjoying himself if he was. Whilst you found yourself on fire with his gentle touches and caresses, you were utterly flung into the inferno when he grappled at your skin; when he spanked you and when he wrapped his hands around your throat. You tried to moan, you tried to let him know how he made you feel, to let him know you were about to come. All you could do was reach for him, your arms found his shoulders and you pressed your fingernails down into his flesh and tugged slightly, as if it were possible for him to get any closer. George understood and released his grip of your throat slightly, his sharp thrusts more erratic as he lowered his head to your ear. “Are you going to come, little witch?” George breathed and you shuddered, his breath was hot on your skin and you could hear how strained his voice was; like he was merely waiting for your confirmation before he would find his own release. You couldn’t speak, how could you when George’s hand again squeezed your throat, tighter than before. You choked on the moan that tried to escape, George groaned at the sight. You managed a nod as your orgasm took you, it convulsed through your body; more intense than you had ever felt. George followed almost instantly, his body falling forward onto yours as if he were melting. Your legs trembled as the waved subsided, the weight of him on top of you pushed the vibrator even harder against your overstimulated clit. It didn’t appear thar George had noticed until you began to squirm beneath him, a whimper escaped you as the little bullet shaped object pleasantly painful, trundled you towards another orgasm. If you weren’t about to come for the second time, you would have laughed at George’s shocked expression. He blinked at you, once, twice and then a third time before he seemed to understand what was happening. A look of sheer elation seemed to illuminate his face and he pushed himself back until he sat on his heels, you whined at the loss of contact but without missing a beat, George pressed his hand against the vibrator and pressed hard. You gasped and your second orgasm erupted through you like needles under your skin, it was deliciously uncomfortable as you bucked your hips against the delightful buzz. George laughed almost incredulously as you rode out the second wave until finally, he muttered the un-stick charm and the little vibrator fell away.

You were breathless and sweaty, the inside of your thighs coated with the evidence of your passion and George ran a hand through his unkempt hair. You couldn’t move, it was like your every appendage was made of lead and no matter how you tried, you couldn’t lift them. “Such a shame we’re not going home tonight, (Y/N). I’d love to hear the pretty noises you’d make when I make you come over and over again with this.” George said breezily, he lifted the vibrator and dropped it onto the bed before pointing his wand at it and casting a quick Scourgify. You watched him lazily as he dressed, he was thinner than he used to be. He pulled his belt to the last but one hole and buckled it. You assumed it was the stress of the shop that had caused him to lose the weight, neither Fred nor George had anticipated how popular the shop was going to be when they opened. The first day alone had seen the twins more than triple what they had paid into the business and since then, George had barely had a day off. You didn’t mind though, not really, you enjoyed seeing him in his element with his brother. He whizzed around the shop like a tornado, his mind constantly ticking over what they could do to make things bigger and better. He had found a new confidence in himself, on those days that Fred wasn’t there, and he didn’t have to share the role of ‘Boss’, George was in charge. George excelled in it, and it was a dynamic that he had brought home with him into the bedroom, which you thoroughly enjoyed.

George pulled his shirt over his head and tossed your knickers over to you. “Are you coming downstairs?” He asked, you chewed on your lip. Did you want to go downstairs to sit outside of a meeting you weren’t welcome at? It was Sirius that didn’t trust you, you knew that, and it wasn’t something you necessarily lost sleep over; but it still bothered you the same. George told you everything that was said in the meetings anyway, so its not as if you were kept in the dark- but that wasn’t the point. Sirius was suspicious of you, coming from the family you did. The Weasley’s had spoken in your defence, even Harry and Hermione who had shown no interest toward you beforehand had tried to get Sirius on side. But he wouldn’t budge, and rather than forcing his hand in his own house, you had elected not to join The Order. It seemed to suit everybody that way, Sirius didn’t have to speak with you, but you were kept in the loop. “Oi, are you even listening to me?” George waved his hand in front of your face. Your cheeks warmed in embarrassment and you stood. “Sorry love, I was just thinking.” “About what?” He sat and watched you as you searched on the floor for your discarded items of clothing. You pushed your legs into your jeans and clasped your bra before pulling your shirt over your head. “I might go home George, if we’re supposed to be leaving early tomorrow morning to meet everyone off the train anyway, I’d be halfway there if I went tonight.” “Why do you want to go home? Are you okay?” He asked, concern flashed across his face as he rose to meet you. George took your face in his hands and brought his lips down to yours in a tender kiss. “I’m fine, honestly I am. I just don’t fancy waiting around for however long for you lot to finish your meeting and then sleep here as well- I just, want my own bed. I’m really tired, I had a hellish shift in the shop today and I’m due on my period any minute now and-” George placed a finger on your lips to silence you. He frowned slightly, his hands fell to your shoulders and have then a squeeze. “You don’t have to explain yourself, darling. I know you’ve been run ragged trying to get everything sorted in the shop for the holidays. Me and Fred can’t thank you enough for that, and I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He paused, he seemed to mull over his words before he took a breath. “Does this have anything to do with Sirius, (Y/N)? I promise you can tell me.”

You shook your head and smiled. You weren’t lying to George, at least not completely. You did truly want to sleep in your own bed, although the flat was cramped; you had made it home. “No love, I just want to go home. You stay here with Fred and everyone, I’ll meet you at the shop in the morning and we can have a late breakfast?” He seemed placated by that and offered a genuine smile. “Definitely, maybe we could go into London and do a bit of Christmas shopping?” “Sounds perfect, George.” “Are you going to apparate straight to the flat?” He asked as you made your way from the attic and down the rickety stairs. “I think I’ll pop into The Leaky Cauldron first, have a drink. I’ll see if I can convince Tom to let me take a bottle or two back to the flat for us.” “Are you leaving, dear?” Molly’s voice carried over the cacophony of sounds as you arrived outside the kitchen. George offered your coat to you and held it as you slipped your arms into the sleeves. You nodded and accepted the warm hug she offered you, and revelled84 in the motherly affection. “Yeah, I’m going home, see if I can get a decent night’s sleep for once without this one stealing all the covers.” You elbowed George in the ribs, and he rolled his eyes. George slung an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in close to his chest. Molly smiled at the pair of you, she took your hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “Are you still coming to the train station in the morning?” She asked. You nodded again and Molly beamed. “We were just talking about going to do a bit of Christmas shopping after we’ve been to Kings Cross, as Fred’s in the shop. Would you like to come with us, Molly?” “Oh no no, the way things are at the minute you two need to take full advantage of any and all moments you get together. Especially in that tiny flat of yours.” You nodded in agreement and made your way to the door, a figure stood out from behind the door to the sitting room, stopping you in your tracks.

“Are you off, (Y/N)?” Sirius said blankly, his grey eyes bore into yours with an unsaid intensity. “I am, thank you Sirius.” You refused to lower your gaze as the older man regarded you, you could see the corner of his lip quiver slightly almost upturning into a smirk. George appeared by your side and looked between you and Sirius; he cleared his throat. “Right love, I’ll see you at the shop in the morning.” George said, his gave you a chaste kiss on the lips and opened the heavy door, waving at you until you reached the designated apparition point.

************

The Leaky Cauldron was filled wall to wall with people as you stepped through the door. You were pleased to be out of the December chill, your hands already red with cold from your short walk. You scoured the crowd for a path to the bar and deftly avoided a few rogue elbows and spilled pints, as you fought your way through the throng of people and placing your order with a round-faced witch. You paid for your glass of wine and with a smile told her to keep the few sickles change. You found yourself smiling as you nestled yourself into a corner, the red wine was cheap and tasted tangy as you swallowed a big mouthful; but the warm glow you felt in your chest was welcome. It was nice to see the pub so full all things considered, there had been massive backlash towards the Ministry in their handling of the Dark Lord’s return and you wondered whether this threat would stop people going out and enjoying their lives, tonight, it appeared not. “’Ello love, are you ‘ere by yourself?” You looked over your shoulder to see a portly man with a wide smile and flushed cheeks, his broad cockney accent was almost jarring. You managed to stop yourself rolling your eyes and offered him a curt smile. He smelled like he hadn’t bathed in days and a thick layer of dirt graced his face. “No, I’m just waiting for someone.” You lied, you hoped that would be the end of the conversation, that he would take the hint and leave you to your wine. You just wanted a moment to yourself, to not have to think about the shop or the ever-impending threat of a potential Death Eater attack. You hadn’t really had a moment alone since you arrived at The Burrow all those months ago, you had left all remnants of your former life at Malfoy Manor and thrown yourself head first into anything to take your mind off what happened there. You hadn’t received a word from your parents, you didn’t expect to really, but that chance meeting you and George had had with Mr. Paris in a muggle restaurant was enough to make you shudder. You wondered if the Healers at St. Mungo’s had managed to get Mr. Paris’ two front teeth to grow back after George had punched them out of his head. Needless to say, that was a lovely restaurant that you were no longer welcome at. “Me too. D’you want to wait together?” You had almost forgotten the stout man on your side, but his misguided determination in obtaining your attention was began to grate on you. He smiled a toothy grin and then coughed deeply, the teeth that remained in his mouth were yellow and as he coughed, he produced a stained handkerchief from his pocket and covered his mouth. You noticed the gold rings that adorned each finger of his hand, some of them looked to be encrusted with precious stones, but you doubted that very much. As his cough subsided, he cleared his throat and shoved the handkerchief back into his pocket. He looked at you expectantly. “No thank you, I’m sure they’ll be here any second now.” You lied again, you craned your neck in search for absolutely nobody and leaned up onto the balls of your feet. The man next to you followed suit, he tapped your arm. “Is he over there? There’s a man coming down the stairs waving at you.” The man pointed across the room where sure enough the bottom of an old staircase was in view, and a man in the distance dressed in black held your gaze as he descended. “Yes, that’s him! Thank you.” You said excitedly to the short man, you heard him chuntering behind you as once again you elbowed your way through the crowd, careful not to spill any of your wine. You smiled widely as you approached him. “Professor!” You gushed, “How are you? It’s so nice to see you!” Professor Snape’s usually hard exterior softened as he regarded you, he offered his arm to you and you took it. He nestled your hand in the crook of his elbow and hastened away from the pulsing body of people. “Miss (Y/L/N), you should not be here. It’s not safe.” Professor Snape whispered, he looked over his shoulder and you followed his gaze. You felt your body stiffen as you watched in detestation as Narcissa Malfoy approached where you stood, her repulsive husband quick on her heels.

She was quick to disguise her shock as she saw you, Lucius merely sneered as he clasped Professor Snape on the shoulder and flounced away in a flurry of black cloth. Narcissa’s almost stoic expression faltered as you watched Lucius exit the pub, your eyes found hers as she frowned. “Hello,” She said quietly, you stared back at her with a stony expression. You almost respected the nerve of the woman to talk to you after everything you endured at her house over the summer, you didn’t blink, you didn’t move. “Goodnight, Narcissa. Merry Christmas.” Professor Snape said after a while, she broke her stare and nodded. She kissed Professor Snape on the cheek and made her way to the doors of the pub, you watched as she cast a look over her shoulder to you and with an obvious smile, she left. “Come,” Professor Snape said gruffly, “Take my arm I shall apparate you home.” “I only live up the road, Professor. I’ll walk.” “Very well, I shall escort you.”

You walked in near silence with Professor Snape the short walk to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, you watched in amusement as the serious potions master gazed up at the giant automation head placed on the exterior of the shop removed his hat and positioned it back on his head in the dim light of Diagon Alley. “Not ones for subtlety are they, the Weasley twins?” Professor Snape smirked; you shook your head with a chuckle. “No, I can’t say they are.” “Is this where you live?” He asked, you nodded and produced your wand from your bag. “We live upstairs, the three of us.” “Three?” “Yeah, me, Fred and George. It’s…cosy.” Professor Snape hummed in agreement and took a step back. “Professor?” You asked, he looked expectantly at you and you bit your lip. “I never got a chance to thank you for what you did for me at Malfoy Manor. I cannot ever repay you for your kindness, I am in your debt.” Professor Snape scowled at your emotion and took another step back. “I was instructed to help you, Miss (Y/L/N). I did only as I was told to do.” He said somewhat unconvincingly, he averted his gaze and made to walk away. Instinctively, you reached your hand out and caught his sleeve. “That may be the case Professor, but still, thank you.” You looked earnestly to his pale face; he shoulders slumped slightly. “After I had received word as to what that oaf Paris had done…I did what I thought was right.” He stated, there was no over-sentimentality to his tone, like he was reading a shopping list. You decided not to press the matter further and turned toward the door to the shop. “Professor,” You asked again, his eye roll was detectable regardless of the few feet of distance between you. “What?” He snapped, his foot tapped impatiently on the cobbled stones. “Why are you here? Term doesn’t finish until tomorrow. That’s not to say I’m not happy to see you, of course I-” “I was unaware I had to run my schedule through you, Miss (Y/L/N).” Professor Snape quipped, if he tried to disguise the annoyance in his tone- he had done an extremely poor job of it. “Of course, sorry.” “If you must know, I arrived this afternoon. I had…business in London. Now go on, there’s only so much of your company I can stomach at one time.” You expected he was only being half serious, as his black eyes betrayed a slight softness and you smiled gently. “Goodnight Professor, thank you for making sure I got home safely.” “I’ll watch you inside.”

*************

“What do you think of this, Gin?” You held up a sparkly silver top to your chest and waited for Ginny’s verdict. Ginny turned to you with wide eyes, her expression frazzled. “No, I preferred the second one.” She thrust a red velvet dress into your hands as she frantically searched the racks of clothes for the perfect Christmas dress. “Where’s Hermione?” You enquired, you looked over your shoulder to where George, Ron and Harry all stood by the changing rooms, their arms heavy with shopping bags. You gave George a stiff smile, dismayed when he rolled his eyes and looked away. He had been acting strangely with you all morning since you met at the shop. He had barley said two words to you until everyone had stepped off the train. You were grateful that Ginny said she needed to do some shopping and the boys had decided to tag along. In truth, George was getting on your nerves. You could tell there was something bothering him and yet, every time you asked him about it- he refused to say. Eventually, you gave up asking. “She’s at her parents’ for Christmas this year. She’s fallen out with Ron.” Ginny replied disinterestedly as she held up a green Bardot-necked jumper dress, “What do you reckon?” “With your hair? Stunning.” You said with a smile. Ginny breathed a sigh of relief as she folded the dress over her arm and stepped passed you towards the till. You managed to grab the dress from her and slot it over yours. “(Y/N) what are you doing?” Ginny said as she tried to grab her dress. “Let me get your dress Ginny, as a Christmas present.” You pleaded, she deliberated for a moment before conceding and following you to the till. “At least let me do something for you, (Y/N).” Ginny said as she passed Ron her newest bag. He took it without thinking and then screwed up his face and passed it to Harry. “Tell you what, why don’t you come to the flat this week and we can have a girl’s night? I’m sure the boys can make themselves scarce for an evening, couldn’t you George?” George scoffed, you slipped your arm through his and he withdrew from you, putting his hand in his pocket; “I’m not being chased out of my own flat by my sister. Are you lot going to Floo to mums from mine?” “Yeah, might as well. It’s only round the corner, isn’t it?” Harry agreed.

You continued your way to Diagon Alley and through the buzz of the busy joke shop, you attempted to follow Ginny up the back stairs to your flat but realised George wasn’t behind you. Instead he was deep in conversation with a frantic looking Fred who was gesticulating wildly. Good, let Fred have a taste of what you’d received from George all day. You knew better than to get involved between the pair and arrived in to the flat just as Ron disappeared into the fireplace. “See you!” You waved as he vanished in a ripple of green flames. Harry smiled and waved as he took Ron’s previously occupied place in the fireplace and followed suit to The Burrow. As he departed, Ginny stepped toward you and enveloped you in a hug. “I’ll owl you about this week?” “Definitely,” You answered, “We’ll get it sorted.” You watched as Ginny entered the fireplace and disappeared. Just as the flames died, the door of your flat swung open and George entered, slamming it shut behind him. “Woah, what’s up?” “Fucking Fred, he couldn’t organise a piss up in a brewery.” George muttered, he threw the shopping bags forcefully onto the floor and launched himself at the sofa, burying his head into the cushions. “Bloody hell George, do you want to be a bit more dramatic?” You scowled and stalked over to the discarded shopping bags and picked them up, carefully checking to see if anything was broken. You took them into the small kitchen they weighed a tonne. You just about managed to hoist the bags onto the worktop and sighed from the exertion. You were pleased with yourself, you had managed to find a few absolute bargains in London today which seldom never happened near Christmas. You had managed to buy nearly everything on your Christmas list; new baubles for the Christmas tree were the only thing left to buy. You had vehemently refused to let Fred design your Christmas decorations and instead saved the money you had earned from working in the shop to decorate the flat to your specific Christmas standards. You balled the carrier bags up and opened up a cupboard and shoved them deep inside as you placed the contents of the bags to display to George. “George, come and have a look at what I’ve got today. Just the last few bits n-” “And how much did this all cost?” He demanded; George; who was now stood hovering over your shopping looked furious as you jumped. You shook your head in shock, George had never spoken to you like that and you weren’t going to take it from him now. “It’s Christmas, George. You buy presents for people at Christmas.” “That’s all well and good when it’s not your money you’re spending.” George spat; your jaw dropped open for a split second before your face darkened. “Are you taking the piss? You think I’ve been spending your money?” “Well I don’t remember the last time you went to Gringotts, seeing as we do everything together.” He sneered and placed his hands on his hips. You offered him a sneer of your own. “What is wrong with you? You’ve been awful all day.” You said, you moved across the tiny kitchen to where he stood. “Merlin (Y/N), can’t I just be pissed off at you spending all the money? We don’t have much and between you and Fred we’re going to be out on our arses before New Year.” George’s voice was low and filled with spite. It took you by surprise, your normally lovely, cheerful boyfriend was replaced by this poison spitting man. “Well I’ll tell you what George, you can take all this stuff that I’ve bought for your family with my money back to the shops and I’ll just fuck off, shall I?” “If you wouldn’t mind.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You pushed past a seething George towards your bedroom and pointed your wand at your wardrobe and levitated your clothes into an open and waiting suitcase. It took longer than expected for George to appear in the doorway, but he did; arms folded across his chest. You were too angry to be upset, in that moment pure fury coursed through your veins as George’s accusations reverberated around your mind. How dare he talk to you like that? When your suitcase was packed, you locked it with a swish of your wand and pushed past George again, your shoulder made contact with his chest, but he didn’t flinch. “Where are you going?” He asked with a bite in his tone. “I don’t know. I’m fucking off, aren’t I?” “Going to meet Snape again?” You were shocked at that. You turned slowly; George’s face was as red as his hair as he met your eyes slowly. “Excuse me?” “That’s where you went last night wasn’t it? You went to meet up with Snape.” Your brow furrowed as you tried to process what George was saying, he didn’t give you a chance to respond. “You were seen leaving the pub together looking very chummy, (Y/N).” “I bumped into him in the pub and he walked me home.” “Convenient.” George muttered. “Why are you being a dick?” You demanded, your heartbeat pounded in your ears and your hand shook with rage. “Why were you so desperate to leave Grimmauld Place?” He stepped closer to you, almost closing the distance. The heat radiated from him in waves, what was normally so intoxicating to you, you now found infuriating. “I told you, I was tired and I wanted to be at home. Why would I want to stick around somewhere where I’m not wanted, George?” “You have to understand how it looks (Y/N). You, leaving Order headquarters to go and meet up with Severus Snape.” “Are you accusing me of being a Death Eater now?” “Are you saying Snape’s a Death Eater?” “No!”

George panted as he regarded you, his eyes wild. You could see the cogs of his brain ticking as he watched you. “Then why were you with him?” He asked quietly. Your hands trembled with rage as you tried to calm yourself. “I told you, he walked me home. Were you spying on me?” Your hand tensed around the handle of your suitcase, he said you were seen. Seen by who? “Don’t need to, it’s not like nobody knows who you are.” “What does that even mean? George, you’re not making any sense!” You exclaimed, you hated this. You wanted it to be over, you wanted to crawl into bed and never come out. “Are you fucking him?” George eventually asked, his eyes narrowed into slits as he awaited your response. Unfortunately, he wasn’t to receive one.

You didn’t know where you were going. You couldn’t go back to The Burrow, not after the argument. The thought of having to explain to Molly what George had said to you made you feel sick. She had been so kind to you, and if George suspected you of foul play, it was almost certain that Molly already knew. You couldn’t go back to Grimmauld Place either, you weren’t sure if there would be any members of the Order there; and potentially being alone with Sirius was absolutely out of the question. You walked solemnly along the cobbled road away from the shop, your suitcase squeaked as it rolled across the uneven stones; the only sound in the eerily quiet of the early evening. You still hadn’t formulated a plan, not even when you ordered a coffee and tucked yourself away in a corner of The Leaky Cauldron. You knew Professor Snape had warned you against being there, but it was the only place you could feasibly go. You half hoped George would have followed you; that he would appear looking very ashamed and apologise for his words. But alas, as the night grew darker and more and more people arrived into the pub, it became painfully clear that he wasn’t coming. You were alone.

You spied Tom talking to the witch who had served you the night before, she was beaming as she joked with her boss. She had such a kind face, and you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips as you watched her engage a few patrons in raucous conversation. She clearly enjoyed the attention; she threw her head back in laughter as though she didn’t have a care in the world. That must be nice. You stood and cast a sticking charm to your suitcase, ensuring it wouldn’t be stolen or tampered with and made your way to the bar. The young witch smiled brightly as you approached, her hand already extended for your empty coffee mug. “Would you like another?” She asked, you shook your head as you tentatively placed your hands on the bar top. You instantly regretted it as, as soon as your hands touched the marked wood, they became incredibly sticky. “No thank you, I am wondering whether you have any rooms available, though?” You asked as nonchalantly as you could, the young witch nodded. “I’ll just go and check with Tom.” She disappeared through a door behind the bar and you stood patiently and waited, you glanced over your shoulder to where you had left your suitcase and saw the portly man from the night before eying it suspiciously. You watched him as he gave your suitcase a sly kick, and when he noticed it didn’t move an inch, tried an even more forceful one. You arched an eyebrow as his shoulders slumped in defeat. “’Ello deary!” He called as he noticed you watching him. “Knew I’d bump into you again. Mundungus Fletcher.” He leaned forward and extended his hand to you and you shook it. You watched with delight as the man pulled his now sticky hand away and wiped it unsuccessfully on his pinstriped trousers. “’Ave to say, I was surprised to see a pretty young fing like you making off wiv Severus Snape last night. Never knew the old sod ‘ad it in ‘im!” You fought the scathing retort that threatened to fall off your tongue at the second insinuation of a sexual relationship with Professor Snape you had received within a few hours. You looked indignantly at Mundungus who snapped his fingers at the kind witch behind the bar. She rolled her eyes to you and began to serve him, as Tom followed slowly and approached you with an apologetic look. “Are you after a room, miss?” He asked. “Yes, anything you have is fine. It’s only for me.” You answered hurriedly, you produced your purse from the pocket of your coat and set it on the bar top. “That’s just the thing miss, all our single rooms have gone what with it being so close to Christmas. The only thing I’ve got left it the Merlin Room. And it’s Fifty Galleons a night I’m afraid.” Fucking hell, that was a lot of money. Certainly, more than what you had in your purse. You chewed your lip as you opened up the black leather purse and scooped out the golden coins and placed them in Tom’s waiting hand. “That should be Thirty there Tom, you keep hold of that and I’ll run to Gringotts for the rest now.” “’Ow much is it, girl?” Mundungus called from your side. “We’re short Twenty Galleons.” Tom answered plainly, his hand still outstretched. Mundungus reached deep into the pockets of his pinstripes and produced a load of gold pieces. “Is tha’ enough, mate?” Mundungus replied, he dropped the coins into Tom’s hand before you could protest. You looked bewilderedly from the innkeeper to the grubby man, Tom closed his had around the coins like a Venus fly-trap around a fly and smiled. “I’ll just fetch you the key, miss.”

Your cheeks were hot as you turned to Mundungus, it was made all the worse when you realised how bloody pleased he seemed with himself. “Thank you.” You managed curtly, “I was more than capable of walking to the bank and back though, Mr. Fletcher.” “Jus’ fink of it as a bit’a human kindness. Remember it next time you see someone in a bind.” “You don’t even know me. I could be anyone.” You replied, you were becoming increasingly annoyed by this man’s insistence in intruding in your life. “That’s where you’re wrong miss, I knows all abou’ you.” He smiled what was probably intended as a sweet smile, but it sent a shiver down your spine; he was menacing, this man. You didn’t like being in his debt. “The banks’ closed now anyway.” He sniffed. “Forgive me, Mr. Fletcher,” You began carefully, “I simply cannot allow myself to be in debt to you. Please let me pay you back immediately.” You waited for him to reply, your breath was coming short and you felt wildly out of your depth. You had seen both of your parents give people verbal lashings and negotiate alike, they made it seem so easy. You yourself had never been afraid of confrontation, but you were theirs then; you were known. You had the protection of your ancient family name- now, you were nobody. That frightened you. Mundungus laughed quietly, he brought his hand to his mouth as his laughter turned into a chesty cough. The stones in his rings glistened in the lamplight, his handkerchief even more stained than yesterday. He sighed when his cough stopped, a great, whisky scented sigh that permeated around your face. It took everything within your power to not wretch. “’Fing is miss, I’m not sure you can give me what I’m after.” He said with a sneer, you outwardly cringed. His eyes travelled the length of you, glancing twice at your bosom. You fought the bile that rose in your throat. “And what is it, that you’re after exactly, Mr. Fletcher?” You asked through gritted teeth. You watched as Mundungus sighed and leant casually against the bar. He looked over both shoulders before he leaned in to you, his face inches from yours. “Information.” He breathed with his whisky breath; you couldn’t help but flinch. “Information?” You repeated, Mundungus nodded. “What kind of information?” “Y’see, I am a salesman as well as a collector, miss. I sells what I collects, and I collects what I sells. And wha’ I’m wanting to sell now, is your privacy, miss.” He whispered; his face even closer to you. You could feel his vile breath on your face as your eyes widened in shock. “Goodnight, Mr. Fletcher.” You whispered as your face paled, you tried to move past him, but Mundungus caught hold of your sleeve and pulled your back flush to his torso. “No, no no.” He muttered. “I knows who you are, miss. I knows all about you, I even knows your boyfriend, miss! One of those Weasley boys, ain’t it? One of those twins, I’m sure.” You whimpered as Mundungus fiddled with the hair at the nape of your neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, please let me go.” You felt tears sting your eyes as Mundungus’ hold on you relaxed slightly. You lurched forward away from him in time to see Tom walk around the bar, room key in hand, a concerned look on his face.

“Everything alright, miss?” Tom asked, he looked between you and Mundungus. Mundungus gestured to you and you nodded with a strained smile, Tom dropped the key into your hand and turned back the way he came. You made to follow him but Mundungus was quicker on his feet than you had anticipated, his hand on your shoulder in an instant. You desperately tried to think what exactly he was trying to extract from you. “Now ‘ush miss, I don’t want no fuss.” Mundungus breathed, he patted your shoulder awkwardly and you trembled beneath him. “I’ll strike a deal wiv ya, ‘ow does that sound?” “A deal? What kind of deal?” “Good girl.” He smiled his yellow smile and gestured to the table where your almost forgotten suitcase still sat, stuck to the floor. “You said you’ve got money?” Mundungus mused as he sat across from you, wand stealthily pointed at you from his sleeve. “’Ow much you talkin’?” “About three hundred Galleons. In my savings.” You lied, there was about three hundred Galleons in the Gringotts vault you shared with George; but you still had access to your parents’ vault. You initially refused to take any money from it, but surely, they would have instructed the goblins to remove your access if they didn’t want you to use it. Besides, there was thousands upon thousands of Galleons in there. But Mundungus didn’t have to know that. You could see his face fall as he mulled over your words. “Hmm. Right. Tell you wha’, I’m feeling nice tonight. You meet me ‘ere again tomorrow night, same time and bring me one-hundred-and-fifty Galleons. Wha’ I paid for you tonight, plus a little extra- for my trouble, and I won’t tell your boyfriend tha’ your fancy man is waiting for you over there.” Mundungus pointed towards the other side of the pub and as you searched through the crowd you saw him, Professor Snape sat silently by himself; his eyes burned into yours. Your cheeks flushed scarlet. “Mr. Fletcher. Don’t be vile, Professor Snape and I don’t have any kind of relationship other than a strictly platonic one.” “Tha’ don’t matter. One-hundred-and-fifty Galleons.” “You’re trying to blackmail me. Why?” You demanded, you willed your voice not to betray your weakening resolve. “A mans got to eat, miss. It is nearly Christmas after all.” Mundungus said cheerfully. “But I haven’t done anything wrong.” You pleaded, desperate to understand what was happening, it seemed like a lifetime since you left the flat. You wondered if George was worried. “You try tellin’ your fella that after I tell ‘im I seen you two nights in a row, up close and personal wiv Professor Snape.” He said with a shrug, so fucking nonchalant. “You might not know this about me, miss. But I’ve known Weasley’s for years, we go way back. They ‘ave no reason not to believe me. And I know wha’ I saw last night.” “You didn’t see anything, you loathsome twit. Why would you interfere in my life like that?” You snapped; you were angry now you knew you weren’t in any immediate danger. He didn’t appear so frightening from the other side of the table, especially now you knew you were being watched. The horrid man didn’t even blink. “People talk. One-hundred-and-fifty Galleons.” Mundungus repeated, “Or I go I straight to Grimmauld Place right now and see who’s in. And you’d still owe me Twenty Galleons plus interest.” He offered you another grim smile as he pulled out his rotten handkerchief to dab at his brow. All this blackmail must be hard work for him. “’Fink of it as givin’ to the less fortunate at Christmas.” “You’re vile.” “One-hundred-and-fifty Galleons.”

You nodded grimly at the repulsive man and stood slowly, you made your way across the busy room, suitcase in one hand and room key in the other. You slowed and stopped just parallel to where Professor Snape sat. “I need to talk to you.” You muttered quietly, not looking in the potions master’s direction. “Not here.” “Where?” He answered, his voice low and his attention seemingly elsewhere. You dropped your room key on the floor and as you bent to pick it up, you flashed the number in his direction. He gave a short, sharp nod and you walked away hurriedly, up the creaking staircase to your room.

******

The room was to be expected. It was nicer than most of the rooms The Leaky Cauldron boasted, but still nothing compared to the luxuries you were used to. The bed at least, was large and there was a big-ish wardrobe. Nowhere worth the Fifty Galleons you had paid to stay though, you wished wholeheartedly that you hadn’t walked out of the flat. You wished you had just stayed at Grimmauld Place that night, none of this would have happened if you had. You tried to be angry at George, you just didn’t have it in you anymore. You even tried to be angry at Sirius for not trusting you, for making you feel so uncomfortable. It wasn’t any use, any resentment you harboured for Sirius Black had been shifted onto the revolting creature that was Mundungus Fletcher.

You washed yourself thoroughly in the tiny shower of the Merlin Room, anxious to get any whisper of that horrid man from your skin. You couldn’t wrap your head around how anybody could be so cruel, the only saving grace about the whole situation was that you finally knew how George had grown to be suspicious of you. If what Mundungus said was true, then he intercepted George that morning before you had met him and spilled poisoned seeds into the ear of your beloved with the intent of blackmailing you. What a hateful snake. But, on the other hand, you were disheartened at the thought of how quick George was to believe the tales of your supposed infidelity. With Professor Snape of all people, you couldn’t help but laugh sardonically at the idea that of all the men in the world, George thought the obvious choice for your unfaithfulness was Severus fucking Snape.

You dressed quickly into your night clothes and pointed your wand at your hair, it dried instantly, and you tried to relax. You poured a large glass of wine from the bottle that sat invitingly on the bedside table. It was nicer than the wine they served behind the bar downstairs, and you welcomed it as it warmed you from your toes up. Your stomach rumbled, you hadn’t eaten anything since that morning and you began to feel fatigued, the effects of the day catching up with you. You wondered how long Professor Snape would make you wait; would he wait until everybody else left before creeping up the stairs to your room? It sounded so sordid, you thought. He certainly had to wait for Mundungus to leave before he made his move, else you would no doubt find yourself with an even bigger debt to settle. Merlin, you thought, if he were to wait for Mundungus to leave, you’ll be sat waiting until New Years Eve. You tried to busy yourself by searching the room, it was warmer than it looked. The stone walls projected an almost medieval atmosphere, but with the fire burning contentedly, you were satisfied that it could be considered quite cosy. The curtains were almost as moth-eaten as the ones in Grimmauld Place and nearly as old too, and you felt as uneasy in the room as you did in Grimmauld Place.

It wasn’t long after you had settled sat on the bed was there a knock on the door. You scurried to it and opened it slightly, a sliver of light from the hallway encroached into your room and framed Professor Snape’s dark head as you granted him admittance. He closed the door swiftly behind him, but remained stood awkwardly, not quite able to meet your gaze. Instead, you pulled up two chairs by the fireplace. The wooden legs of the chairs scraped uneasily across the stone floor, but you persevered and gestured for your old professor to sit. You grabbed your wine and poured another into a glass for Professor Snape which he accepted tentatively. “Thank you for coming.” You began as you sat in the chair opposite his, you tucked your legs under you in an attempt to be comfortable. It earned an arched eyebrow from Professor Snape. “What did you want to talk about?” Professor Snape said, not wasting any time. You cleared your throat and took another sip of wine and your stomach grumbled again in protest; you ignored it. “I’m being blackmailed by Mundungus Fletcher.” You replied plainly, no need to beat around the bush. “Ah,” said Professor Snape, he brought his wine glass to lips and drank slowly. “I see. How much?” “One-hundred-and-fifty Galleons.” “Do you have it?” He asked, you nodded quickly. “Then I don’t see the issue.” “The issue is that this concerns you, as well Professor.” You said quietly, your cheeks felt warm as his gaze scrutinised you. It was like being back at school. “Please enlighten me, Miss (Y/L/N).” “Mundungus Fletcher has told George that he suspects I’m having an affair, sir. He has told me to pay him the money by tomorrow evening, or he will tell George that what he suspects is true, that he’s seen it with his own eyes. The affair is supposedly with you, sir.” You winced and waited for Professor Snape to say something, anything; but he didn’t. He sat there, an ashen look on his already pale face as he took another tender sip of his wine. “I shouldn’t be here.” Professor Snape stated finally, he wasn’t asking. You couldn’t help but nod, he was right. Under the circumstances, he absolutely shouldn’t be here, no matter how innocuous the meeting. “Perhaps not,” You said quietly, “I don’t know what to do.” “Well you’re certainly not going to pay the little cretin, that’s for sure,” Professor Snape said with a frown, “Allow me to deal with Mundungus.” Professor Snape titled his wine glass almost vertically as he drained what was left in his glass, you raised your eyebrows at his show but kept your mouth closed. Professor Snape stood and in two swift movements had opened the door and turned to you with a dark look. “I shall return.” And with that, he closed the door behind him, in the near silence of your room you could still hear his footsteps on the stone floor as he walked away. You mulled over your situation for a few moments, swirling the contents of your glass sullenly. You were sick to the back teeth of being a hapless damsel in distress, yes, you had endured some questionable fates in your short adulthood; but this one seemed to border on the ridiculous. You hadn’t done anything wrong, not a single thing and yet you sat in a lonely room feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt. Why? Why when you had no idea there were men as repugnant as Mundungus Fletcher out there who would create fantasies and try and profit from them? No more, you thought. Not this time.

You stood quickly and instantly regretted the decision, your glass of wine had gone straight to your head on account of your empty stomach. You blinked and tried to refocus your vision, when you were satisfied you made your way to the wardrobe. Grasping your heavy winter cloak, you draped it around your shoulders and pulled the hood over your head covering your face, and made your way quietly out of the room. You had no idea what time it was, the pub was full now as you came down the stairs. A few patrons looked over in your direction as you weaved through the crowd, looking for any sign of Professor Snape or Mundungus Fletcher. There was none, you scoured every corner and came up short. You cursed under your breath and exited the pub; the wind whipped around your body and caused your hair to stand on end as you looked out into the near empty street now pitch black. There was a scuffling sound to your left, and then a crash as if something large and metal had been dropped. You retrieved your wand and cast a nonverbal Lumos and followed the sound, you walked apprehensively down the alleyway behind The Leaky Cauldron, even with the light emanating from your wand, there was still much you couldn’t see. Wasn’t there an old adage about young witches walking down alleyways alone at night? You tried to push such thoughts from your mind as the sounds of scuffling increased, joined by hushed voices. You rounded a sharp corner into an even darker part of the alley, like a labyrinth of brick and mortar. “Nox.” You whispered, you lowered your wand but your grip around it tightened, ready for whatever you might meet.

“You disgusting, verminous cur-” You heard a deep voice, a snarl more than anything else. You continued your pursuit of the commotion and nearly gasped when you saw Professor Snape with his hand around Mundungus’ throat, his other hand pressed his wand into Mundungus’ cheek. You tried to make your body flush with the wall, trying desperately to disappear into the darkness. The sounds of Mundungus’ struggle were palpable now as you tried to steady your breathing. “S-Sev..erus! Come on mate, let me go!” Mundungus managed, his hand splayed against the cold brick and Professor Snape pressed harder into Mundungus’ face with his wand. Mundungus spluttered in fear and Professor Snape growled and lowered his face close to Mundungus’ ear and you stepped forward slightly so as not to miss anything that was said. “Did you think you could get away with intimidating a young woman?” Professor Snape spat, “Not only that, a Slytherin born into one of the oldest families in Britain?” He paused and Mundungus flinched, you wondered if Professor Snape had tightened his hold of Mundungus’ throat as a line of spittle had appeared at the corner of his mouth. “I would like to believe you are not that dense, Mundungus, and yet here we are.” “I saw an…opportunity Severus…you knows wha’ it’s like,” Mundungus struggled to get his words out, his voice was thin with strain. “She’s got loads’a money, she won’ miss a’undred or so Galleons!” “That may be true, but you have no right to play with the poor girl. And how much were you going to charge her tomorrow as interest for your silence?” Mundungus was quiet then as Professor Snape finished speaking. The bastard! Hatred began to build within you as you watched Mundungus try to nod. “Alrigh’, Severus. Please.”

Professor Snape removed his hand slowly from Mundungus’ throat and took a step back, his wand still aimed directly at Mundungus’ face. Mundungus bent over and coughed, he rubbed his neck and breathed deeply. “Come.” Professor Snape snapped, he prodded his wand against Mundungus’ shoulder and pointed down the alleyway, in the direction where you stood. “Fucks sake, Severus. Where are we going?” Mundungus whined. Professor Snape snarled and resumed his close proximity to the stout man. “We’re going to pay the Weasley’s a visit, you and me.” He snarled and panic flashed across Mundungus’ face. “Wha’? Now?” Mundungus asked incredulously, “It’s the middle of the nigh’!” “Precisely, it should all be fresh in your mind shouldn’t it?” Mundungus sighed and straightened his moth-eaten jacket. “She still owes me Twenty Galleons for the room though.” The dirty man stated indignantly, Severus snarled, and, in a flash, his dark clothed arm swung, and the clatter of coins echoed across the alley. Mundungus scrabbled to the floor to retrieve the coins and Professor Snape laughed without humour. “Here.” He ordered and Mundungus flitted to your professor’s side submissively. He took hold of Mundungus’ arm and apparated out of the alley.

You exhaled sharply and pulled your hood back from your face. Could it be that easy, really? In a matter of minutes Professor Snape had once again come to your aid with no talk of thanks, and it troubled you. You walked slowly back to The Leaky Cauldron and sluggishly made your way back to your room.

**********

You hadn’t realised you had fallen asleep until a faint knock on the door woke you. You opened your bleary eyes and ran a hand across them, yawning widely as you opened the door. A rather tired looking Professor Snape stood before you, arms folded, and a scowl adorned his face. “I’ve been knocking for what felt like years.” He said grumpily as he followed you into the room. You yawned again and sat in the armchair you had previously occupied earlier in the evening, Professor Snape followed suit. “Sorry, I must have dozed off.” You said quietly, you were suddenly extremely anxious to find out what Professor Snape had to say. Rather than reporting to you what transpired in the hours he had been gone; he closed his eyes. You stared rather dumbfounded as his hands that he had clasped in his lap fell apart. Was he asleep? Of all the fucking ways you thought your day was going to go, staying in The Leaky Cauldron with Professor Snape asleep in your armchair was definitely not in the top one hundred. You chewed your lip deliberating what to do. Realistically, you should wake him. He would be mortified when he awoke to find he had fallen asleep in your room, but there was something in the peaceful rising and falling of his chest that stopped you. You hadn’t really looked at him before then, but you noticed the dark circles around his eyes and how gaunt his face looked. Yes, he was always bony but at that moment in time, he looked ill. You sighed and fetched your cloak which still held the chill from your excursion outside and pulled it over Professor Snape and tucked it under his chin.

You climbed uneasily into bed and pulled the cover tight to your chest, willing sleep to come. Professor Snape snored lightly in his chair and you covered your mouth to suppress the giggle that threatened to escape. This bordered on some of the more absurd things that had happened to you and you lamented as to how you had reached this point. You must have stared at the ceiling for hours, at least it felt like hours, birds chirped happily outside of the window and finally, you felt your eyelids become heavy.

When you awoke, the room was full of light. The curtains were drawn back and the fire roared in its place. “Good morning.” At the sound of Professor Snape’s voice you almost jumped out of your skin, your heart thundered against your chest and you flung your hands over your eyes. He was stood behind the chair he had fallen asleep in, but the small table was filled with food. “Fuck!” You exclaimed as you clutched your chest. “You scared the shit out of me.” “Yes, I have that effect on people.” Professor Snape mused, a small smirk on his face. You stared at him for a moment, just a fleeting moment, a smile crept to your lips. “Sleep well?” You asked, feeling instantly full of glee as a tiny blush inched over Professor Snape’s cheeks. He averted his gaze and gestured to the table laden with pastries and meats, but most importantly, coffee. You stomach betrayed your hunger as a mortifyingly loud rumble echoed throughout the room. You groaned and got out of bed; the cold floor made your feet tingle as you padded over to the table. You shoved half a croissant into your mouth and moaned as the buttery, flaky goodness melted there. Professor Snape cleared his throat. You shot him an apologetic look and continued devouring the treat. Picking up a mug of piping hot coffee you sat in the armchair and hooked your legs underneath you. Professor Snape joined you with a mug of his own and took a great gulp, sighing as he rested the mug on his thigh. “I didn’t know they did breakfast here.” You said after a brief silence, the coffee was delicious, strong and sweet; exactly the way you liked it. “They don’t, I went home when I woke up this morning and brought this here.” He said as he stared intently into the fire. “You made me breakfast?” You enquired, rather taken aback at this act of kindness. “I made myself breakfast, I just happened to make enough for you as well.” He said flatly, you rolled your eyes into your coffee but decided not to press the matter further. “I spoke to George last night.” Your ears pricked at the mention of George, you sat up straight eager for Professor Snape to continue. “Well, I should say Mundungus spoke to George last night. I was simply there to…supervise.” A sly smile tugged at his lips as he drank again from his mug. “And?” You pressed, you wished you could have been there to see what happened. How George reacted, what he would have thought to Mundungus and Severus Snape knocking at his door at Merlin-knows what time. “Was he at the flat?” You asked. “No, he has joined his family at The Burrow. We went to Grimmauld Place first and Shacklebolt told me where he was.”

George had gone to The Burrow? Probably to tell his family all about your fight. Your stomach turned at the memory of how you had spoken to each other, of how he had doubted you. “Needless to say, everything has been thoroughly put right. Mundungus Fletcher won’t be bothering you again.” He continued. You sighed a breath of relief, it was sorted. Everything was sorted. But why didn’t you feel better? “I’m really sorry, Professor. Yet again you have been dragged into my dramas.” You said wistfully, you meant it too. Professor Snape has shown you such kindness when he had no obligation to, it was endearing. “Shut up. I have a reputation to maintain. I will not allow my name to be dragged through any licentious plots, real or fabricated by a common street thief.” Professor Snape said, an edge of bitterness twinged his words. You felt you understood. It was not right for him, a man eighteen years your senior- your old professor no less, to be embroiled in any scandal with an ex student, no matter how innocent it might be. You offered him a small nod and watched as he took a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket, he gave you a cursory glance before he asked; “Do you mind?”

You shook your head, and he placed a cigarette between his teeth and lit it. With a flick of his wand, the window flew open and the chilly December air flowed into the room, eliciting a shiver from you. You watched him as he took a long drag, the smoke twirled in beautiful shapes above his head before disappearing into nothing. “I wonder what you think of me, sir. You must think I’m a mess.” You smiled sadly; he lifted a hand to stop you. “On the contrary, I think you’re doing rather well given the circumstances.” He paused to take another drag of his cigarette. You placed your coffee mug on the floor and wrapped your arms around your body against the chill. “I’m returning to Hogwarts for the Christmas break. My business is finished in London, and I detest being here so my house will be empty. If you have need of somewhere to go.” You eyed him suspiciously. He stared blankly at you, as if he had just asked you the time. “You’re offering me your house?” “You may stay in my house whilst I am away. I understand you are short of options at this time.” You shook your head; it was all a bit much. Had you saved Professor Snape from a terrible fate in a previous life or something? “Professor,” You faltered, your breath came quickly. “Why are you doing all this for me? I can’t imagine you go to this much trouble for all your old students?” “Don’t be ungrateful.” He chastised, he tossed his cigarette into the fire and it roared in acceptance. He sat straight in his chair and leaned forward. “It may come as a shock to you, but not everyone means you harm, (Y/N).”

That was the first time he had used your given name. “I just don’t understand why-” “If you don’t want my help, then I shall take my leave.” “No!” You said, “No. Stay, please. Sorry, I’m just…struggling, I suppose. Everything seems to be happening a million miles a minute and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.” You felt tears sting in the corners of your eyes. “I am so appreciative of you, sir. You have done more than my own family would have done. Thank you.” “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Professor Snape muttered under his breath, you could have enquired further, but decided not to. “So, how did you leave things last night? With George?” “Well, obviously he felt very foolish. He was absolutely incensed with Mundungus, I feared for his safety at one point. He said he would seek you out at some time today.” “…Oh.” “He wanted to come last night, but Molly intervened. Said you’d probably relish the time alone.”

Which you did, well you would have done, if you were alone. Your heart leaped at the idea of seeing George soon, but just as quick as your excitement grew, it was extinguished by a feeling of disquiet. George had said some really hateful things to you, he had been so quick to assume you had slighted him and refused to see reason when you challenged him. You had never thought that George could be like that, it made you uneasy. “This displeases you?” Professor Snape said, his voice twinged with amusement. “I thought you’d be climbing the walls with excitement.” You ignored his dig and walked slowly to the window; it was really very cold now. You watched as people meandered from shop to shop, children laughed full of Christmas cheer. You smiled sadly as you watched them, that was you once. Your father would hoist you onto his shoulders and you would race down the streets of Diagon Alley, singing songs and laughing. This was to be your first Christmas without them, your parents. And whilst they had hurt you beyond measure, you found in that moment you missed them terribly, even your cold and indifferent mother. She would have a glass or two of sherry on Christmas night and invite you to sit at her feet as she stroked your hair. But that part of your life was well and truly over with now, a memory to be forgotten in time. A part of you that was dead, and nobody mourned. Sad really, wasn’t it?

“I am going to leave now, (Y/N). Thank you for letting me sleep. I’ve been so tired, I’ve got so much to do I- well, you wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.” Professor Snape said from his chair behind you. “I’m travelling back to Hogwarts today.” “Have a safe journey.” You replied, you made your way across the room and offered your hand to Professor Snape to shake. He arched an eyebrow in amusement and took your hand, he shook it roughly. He nodded once and left. Alone, absolutely, definitely alone. Turmoil, absolute, definite turmoil. You hadn’t noticed Professor Snape had slipped a piece of parchment into your hand until it dropped to the floor, you picked it up inquisitively.

65 Spinner’s End, Cokeworth. If you have need, you need only knock.

Severus

*********

Your suitcase trundled behind you sarcastically as snowflakes drifted aimlessly to the ground. You snatched your cloak tight around your chest as you cursed yourself for not packing a pair of gloves. The Burrow was quiet, you could tell from the stillness of the garden. There was usually a creature of some sort causing absolute chaos in the hedgerows, but not today. You steeled yourself against the wind as you approached the front door, you could hear voices on the other side; not the usual calamitous laughing but a stillness you hadn’t expected. You knocked once and pushed the door open; it was warm and the heat stung as it hit your near frozen cheeks. Fred was the first one to spot you as you removed your cloak from your shoulders and hung it delicately onto a peg by the front door, careful not to get anything wet. He moved towards you and took a cold hand and gave it a squeeze before he said; “He’s in the kitchen.”

Indeed, he was, George stared absently out of the kitchen window, mug of tea in hand. He didn’t hear you as you came in, you took a seat at the table and waited. It must have been minutes before he turned around, you weren’t sure if George was aware there was someone staring into the back of his head or whether he had run out of tea, but nevertheless, he turned. A multitude of emotions flashed over his face as he regarded you, you tried to keep your face as neutral as possible as you stared up into the face of the one person you loved more than anything in the world. “(Y/N),” George whispered, “I’ve missed you.” “I think we should talk, George.”

#george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley #severus snape #professor snape #nobody can know #mundungus fletcher #Harry Potter #harry potter reader insert #george weasley #weasley twins

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mischievousmoony · 4 years ago

Text

Teacups

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Reader

Summary: You and Hermione are in the Hogwarts’ kitchens for a late night cup of tea when she begins to pester you about the identity of your crush. Little does she know, your crush is her!

Warnings: None

Requested

Masterlist

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Nights like these were rare. Usually, you and your three best friends were uncovering secrets, rivaling some sort of evil, or partaking in a dangerous adventure. But after an exceptionally good D.A. meeting you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione decided to have a relaxing night in the common room for a change.

Ron had also decided he was in the mood to play Wizard’s Chess.

“It’s been ages since I’ve brought my set out,” he said.

Harry took Ron up on the offer, seemingly up for a challenge.

The four of you had sprawled out across the floor in front of the fireplace. Harry and Ron sat at opposite ends of the chessboard, sitting upright with their eyes glued to the game before them.

You and Hermione had chosen to sit on the other two sides of the board. Hermione was sitting cross-legged with a book in her lap. She would glance up every other moment when either of the boys made a particularly interesting move but was mostly focused on her book.

Across from her, you were paying even less attention to the game. You were sure Ron was going to win, anyway.

You had decided to lay on your stomach, feet in the air, your head kept up with your right hand. Instead of the violent game before you, your attention had been given to the girl seated across from you.

As the light from the fire reflected off of her features, you couldn’t help but notice how pretty Hermione looked. And it captured all of your attention.

You watched as Hermione’s eyes widened at something she read that must have surprised her. Your lips formed a soft smile in response to her mannerisms. The way her books could encapsulate her had always been something you found so adorable.

Suddenly, Harry’s king was loudly shattered to bits, breaking you out of your trance as pieces of the crown bounced off of your arm.

“That was too easy, Harry!” Ron exclaimed, a victorious smile on his face.

Having known he was going to lose since his second move, Harry simply shrugged and began scooping pieces of his king into his hands.

Hermione then snapped her book shut, “I feel like having some tea. Anyone want to join me on a walk to the kitchens?”

“Y/N will go with you!” Harry said enthusiastically.

Harry was the only person who knew of your crush on Hermione. He had caught you staring at her in class once.

It was ironic, as he has always been a little oblivious, but he said he noticed because he imagined that’s how he looked at Cho.

In your opinion, Harry could not have chosen a worse time to be aware of his surroundings. Because now that Harry knew, he had taken it upon himself to be your wingman, whether you liked it or not.

Hermione sent you a questioning look as if to make sure Harry wasn’t volunteering you for something you would rather not do.

“I’ll go,” You confirmed, letting your features meld into a cheery expression. Once Hermione wasn’t looking, though, you shot Harry a sharp glare.

“And you should take my cloak,” he added in response to your menacing gaze, smiling goofily as he looked at you.

Harry quickly dashed up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories and back down only moments later with his invisibility cloak in hand.

He handed the cloak to Hermione, beaming at you suspiciously over her shoulder.

You soon understood why Harry was so enthusiastic once you and Hermione were under the cloak, pressed up against each other to completely cover yourselves.

At least you were invisible now, or Harry would be teasing you for your blush.

“We’ll see you in a bit,” Hermione said to the boys as you began walking.

“Could you bring back some pumpkin pasties if they have ‘em?” Ron called out as you stepped through the portrait hole.

The two of you had to be very quiet on your walk to the kitchens because, even though you were invisible, people could still hear you. Especially since any noise you made would echo throughout the silent castle.

You gulped, hoping that the stark silence and proximity didn’t allow Hermione to hear your pounding heartbeat that was ringing through your ears.

When you could finally see the fruit bowl painting you nearly sighed in relief. Being this close to Hermione so long had you feeling like you were going to implode.

Hermione’s hand jutted out from under the cloak to tickle the pair and, shortly after, turn the green doorknob to reveal the kitchens.

As soon as you were inside you threw the cloak off of yourself and took a large step to the left, distancing yourself from Hermione. You felt as though you had just emerged from underwater and finally regained the ability to breathe.

While you caught your breath, you looked around the busy kitchen. Despite the late hour, the Hogwarts house-elves were still bustling about. You guessed that they must be making early preparations for tomorrow’s breakfast.

The first house elf that noticed you and Hermione excitedly dropped whatever they were doing to approach you both, eager to please.

The house-elf bowed before you, and in a squeaky voice, asked, “How may I be at your service?”

"Oh, don’t mind us! We’ve just come for a cup of tea!” Hermione replied politely.

“Of course Miss! I will have the tea ready in just a moment!”

“That won’t be necessary!” Hermione said hurriedly before the house-elf had a chance to leave, “We can make it ourselves! You don’t need to wait on us.”

Yet another smile crept on your face in response to something Hermione did. You greatly admired the way Hermione treated the house elves and fought for their rights.

Having come from a wizarding family, you hadn’t given the treatment of house-elves a second thought. However, Hermione opened your eyes and you were proud to say you were the second member to ever join S.P.E.W., just after Hermione herself.

“Miss, I insist,” the house-elf pressed, rocking anxiously on her heels.

Some house-elves felt that they were doing wrong if they let a wizard do something that they could do for them. That seemed to be the case here. You thought that in cases like these, it was better to let the house-elf help you than make them upset. You hated to see them upset.

You knelt before the house-elf, “We really would prefer to make it ourselves,” you said kindly, “But our friend Ron wanted us to see if there were any pumpkin pasties. You would be doing us a big favor by bringing some to us?”

“Of course, Miss! Right away, Miss!” The house-elf said before scurrying away.

Hermione sighed. She did not want to put any of the house-elves to work but it did seem like that was their only option in that situation. She decided to bite her tongue and make her way to the stoves.

Having been to the kitchens for tea countless times before, you two already knew where everything was. You moved to collect the teacups while Hermione filled a kettle with water.

“I’m glad you came down with me,” Hermione said as she set the kettle atop the stove to boil.

You nearly allowed the china in your hands to topple to the ground. Luckily, you managed to catch them, placing them ungracefully on the counter, “O- oh!”

“I wanted to ask you about something,” Hermione said, not taking her eyes off the water.

At a loss for better words, you repeated yourself, except with a more curious tone, “Oh?”

“I- I wanted to ask—” Hermione hesitated— “how are you?”

“How am I?” You questioned, suspecting an ulterior motive behind the question.

Hermione sighed and finally turned away from the kettle to face you, “I mean, is everything alright?”

As you considered how to respond, you straightened out a teacup that you had previously placed upside down when you had been attempting to rescue it from falling.

“Of course!” You tried to say confidently, realizing your delay may affect how the answer was perceived, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Hermione huffed and it seemed she lost her patience as she got right to the point, “You’ve been acting strangely. All year, in fact!”

You gulped, “I’m not sure what you—”

“Please, Y/N!” Hermione cried out, “We’re supposed to be best friends! But you’ve been so distant… like you’ve been keeping things from me.”

A blush began to overtake your features. Hermione assumed it was because you were being put on the spot.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you going off with Harry all the time. Whispering about something. Please, Y/N, what’s going on? You can tell me anything!” Hermione’s tone grew more desperate with every word. It strained your heart to hear, but you just didn’t know how to fix things.

“I- listen- it’s not what you think… me and Harry just…” you trailed off, utterly dumbfounded at the confrontation and unsure of what to say as your cheeks grew redder.

Hermione gasped once again, finally realizing what emotions were actually linked to your blush.

“Are you and Harry—?”

“No!” You interjected immediately, “Are you serious? Harry and I are just friends.”

Bitterly, you thought to yourself, just like us.

Hermione stared you down quizzically.

“Then what? Or…” her face fell a fraction, but you didn’t think much of it, “Or, who? Is there someone else?”

Keeping things secret from Hermione was hard. But lying? Lying was just impossible, so you opted to keep your mouth shut.

“Who is he?” She pressed.

You tightly screwed your eyes shut, bracing yourself. You just couldn’t lie to her.

“She,” you corrected timidly, not daring to open your eyes to see her reaction.

“What?” Hermione pronounced slowly, in a tone you could not read, making you terribly anxious.

You wrung your hands, opening your eyes only to stare at them, “It’s not a he, Hermione, it- it’s a she.”

The silence that followed your admission was deafening. You wished you could just disintegrate on the spot.

If only I could apparate, you thought.

“Well, that still doesn’t answer my question.”

Your head snapped up at once to look at the girl before you. There was an unreadable glimmer about Hermione, but that was the least of your concerns at the moment as you sputtered through your attempt at a response.

“Of course, I don’t judge you at all,” Hermione interjected, “Because- well- that would just be hypocritical.”

You went silent after Hermione’s statement. For a few moments, you two just stared at each other with matching, wide-eyed expressions.

Then, out of the blue and for no particular reason, the two of you began to laugh. The warm, new sense of freedom simply made you both so happy that you couldn’t help it.

You had been clutching your stomach by the time your laughter had died down. Hermione concluded her laughter with a sigh, leaving you two in a comfortable silence as you gazed at each other with amused expressions.

Until, Hermione’s face abruptly fell, as she realized there was still something bugging her.

“Er- Y/N?” She started apprehensively, “I’m still wondering… who is she?”

You gulped, but the news Hermione had just given you had left you with a sliver of confidence.

“Well—” You hesitated, not sure how to say it.

“Yes?” Hermione egged you on, a hopeful look in her eyes.

The sliver of confidence turned into a great rush of bravery. Hoping that you were reading the signs right, you cupped Hermione’s face and leaned in.

The first thing you noticed was that her skin was very smooth underneath your fingertips. Then, your heart jolted as you felt Hermione start to kiss you back and wrap her arms around your middle.

You smiled into the kiss, ecstatic that it was happening while simultaneously not believing that it was.

You had grown more comfortable as a few moments passed. You dropped your tense shoulder and let one of your hands travel to the back of her head.

Meanwhile, Hermione had pulled you impossibly closer so that you were pressed up against each other.

Just when you thought you could stay like this forever, the tea kettle began to whistle.

Hermione slowly pulled away, pausing briefly to share a meaningful smile with you, and turned around to remove the water from the heat. You let your arms drop back to your sides before deciding to grab the tea bags, milk, and sugar.

As you enjoyed your tea, you two sat atop the counter close enough that your sides were touching.

You spent your time catching up on all the things you missed when you were being distant.

It was almost as if you two were ignoring what had just happened between you, as you conversed about very normal things. But you were just enjoying finally being comfortable around Hermione again.

Besides, you both had a certain glint in your eyes that was present since your intimate moment. And you were both content with letting that small sign be the recognition for your new relationship.

Suddenly, when you were discussing something that happened in Herbology last week, the house-elf appeared with an entire basket of freshly baked pumpkin pasties.

Your eyes widened, “Er, thank you! Th- that would be all.”

The house-elf bowed and stalked off. Once you were sure she was gone, you turned to Hermione.

“Now I feel terrible! I didn’t think she would go through the trouble of making a whole new batch!”

Hermione giggled, finding your concern endearing, and leaned in to share your second ever kiss.

Later, when you finally arrived back at the common room, you were met with two sets of cheering.

Ron, excited about his fresh baked goods snatched the basket from your grip and began to eat up.

However, Harry’s excitement was not for the steaming pumpkin treats. For the first thing, he noticed when you and Hermione had walked in was that you were holding hands.

“Finally!” He cheered, throwing his fists in the air with the same energy he has after winning a quidditch match.

Ron looked up at the commotion and took in the scene before him.

With his mouth full, he commented, “Oh! You two've finally gotten together then?”

You, Hermione, and Harry immediately turned to gape at Ron.

“You knew?” Harry asked, dumbfounded.

“What!? It was a bit obvious they were pining after each other,” Ron shrugged, turning back to his food, “They look at each other just like you look at Cho.”

––––––––––

Note: It’s 3 am and I just hope that this is as decent as my tired brain thinks it is

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dewitty1 · 4 years ago

Link

Tea and No Sympathy

who_la_hoop

Chapters: 11/11

Fandom:

Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Characters: Narcissa Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Aberforth Dumbledore, Rubeus Hagrid, Buckbeak, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Ernie Macmillan, Terence Higgs, Minerva McGonagall, Giant Squid (Harry Potter)

Additional Tags: Slow Build, Draco-centric, Tea Drinking, Swearing, Muggle London, Houses of Parliament, Malfoy Manor, flangst, Family Feels, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Coming Out, Heartfelt Conversations, Sarcastic Conversations, Owls, Competitive Card Games, Falling In Love, getting drunk, Enthusiastic Snogging, Hogwarts Castle, Sex In The Slytherin Dormitory, Frottage, Time Travel, Time Loop, HP: EWE

Summary:

It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always. At first, though, the time loop seems liberating. For the first time in his life, he can do anything, say anything, be anything, without consequence. But the more Draco repeats the day, the more he realises the uncomfortable truth: he's falling head over heels for the speccy git. And suddenly, the time loop feels like a trap. For how can he ever get Harry to love him back when time is, quite literally, against him?

Excerpt:

"What's this card-game business really about then?" Potter asks, shuffling but not dealing.

"Oh, I just wanted an excuse to find out if you're currently shagging anyone," Draco says airily, and Potter drops the cards.

Half of them explode, setting off the other half, and Draco dives off the bed to avoid the aftermath. He'd grab Potter too, but, really, in times like these it's every man for himself. Draco fears for the safety of his pale-grey trousers.

When he struggles to his feet, after it's all over, Potter is sitting – singed around the edges – on the bed with his arms folded and . . . Draco can't stop himself from sniggering.

"Yes, very funny," Potter says, struggling to the edge of the bed and swinging his legs over, getting to his feet. "Look at the sodding bed!"

Draco looks; there's a hole in the centre of the duvet, and when it peers down, it goes all the way through the bed itself. "Oh, arse," he says. "Looks like you'll be sleeping on the floor tonight."

"Me!" Potter says. "Why is this one my bed?"

"I might be persuaded to share, if you promise faithfully you don't snore."

Potter shoots him a meaningful look. "Look, Malfoy, I'm not daft."

"No?"

Potter splutters, and before he can speak Draco adds, "And you didn't answer my question, Potter. Well?"

"What question?"

"Are you shagging any—"

"Merlin! No, I'm not! Happy?"

Draco smirks. "Well, yes." Even Potter can't fail to pick up the implication in that, surely?

Potter, with great dignity, despite his flaming cheeks, looks Draco full in the face and says, "I don't know if I'm getting the wrong idea here, but I just want to say, I don't usually . . . you know."

No, Draco doesn't know. Potter takes embarrassed incoherence to a new level. "Don't what? Don't shag?"

Potter gives him a tortured look. "Not casually." He turns away to examine, in great detail, the carved fireplace across the room. "Not that . . ." He clears his throat. "Not that I'm not interested . . ."

"Potter," Draco says, his heart pounding and his nerves on fire, "have you ever actually . . .?"

Potter doesn't turn. "How is that any of your business?" he asks, his voice shaky round the edges.

That would be a no then. Probably. OK. It's not like Draco's got laid more than half a dozen times, and he didn't spend a year in a tent with Granger – a libido killer if he ever heard one.

Still. "Potter, come here," Draco asks.

Potter doesn't move.

"Please, Harry," Draco says. Potter's first name feels odd in his mouth, the syllables foreign.

Potter turns. He looks wild; his eyes are wide, and his lips pressed hard together as if to stop them trembling. "What?" he manages.

Draco moves towards him, closing the gap between them in just a couple of steps. "Can I ask you another question?" he asks.

"Depends," Potter says, a glimmer of his usual fight resurfacing. "Is it an arsey one? I've had just about enough of—"

"No," Draco says. "It's a fucking embarrassing one, and I've been building up to it all day."

"Oh god," Potter says faintly. But because he's a Gryffindor, thank Merlin: "Go on then."

"May I kiss you?"

It feels, oddly, like the moment before time resets itself – everything seems to hang there, frozen in place, paused. His breath, his heart. Potter himself, standing still and silent.

Potter breaks it. "Why?" he asks, the words strangled. He swallows hard.

Oh, for fuck's sake. "Because I want to," Draco says, losing his grip on his self-control. "I really really really fucking want to. Is that good enough? Please let me, please."

Potter swallows again, and moistens his lips, and swallows, and . . . Makes a decision. The right one, thank god. "Yeah," he says, quiet and breathy. "I mean . . . OK."

It's more than a bit awkward. Draco can't decide whether to follow the advice of his cock and just launch himself at Potter, or take it more slowly. Potter looks . . . Merlin. He looks soft, and willing, and anxious, and oh god it makes Draco's heart hurt, just looking at him, just wanting him.

He steps forward, and Potter closes in at the same time. Draco reaches for him, sliding his hands down Potter's sides until he finds the edge of his T-shirt, then drags it up until his thumbs hit bare skin. He cups Potter's waist – his skin hot, and firm – and pulls him towards him. Potter's own hands come up to tangle in his hair and tug Draco's head down.

Their faces lips mash together, and when Draco opens his mouth in a half-groan, Potter opens up too and lets Draco's tongue in willingly. Potter's mouth is warm, and wet, and their tongues slide together, each lick sending pulses of arousal that zing straight to Draco's cock. He strokes his hands up Potter's sides, underneath his T-shirt, and down again, then pushes his right leg between Potter's thighs, tugging him in tight, so that their bodies are locked together.

Potter's hard, Draco can feel it, and he groans helplessly into Draco's mouth, grinding his hips as their tongues fuck.

"Draco, I—" Potter gasps, between kisses, and Draco pulls away and nuzzles fiercely at Potter's neck, sucking at the tender skin just below his ear.

"Mm, yes?" he says against Potter's skin, and moves to lick a careful trail along the shell of Potter's ear, which has Potter's knees buckling.

"The door—" Potter gasps desperately.

"What about it?" Draco says, blowing a trail of cool air over the spit on Potter's skin, which makes him shudder; Draco's practically holding him up now.

"Aren't you going to fucking lock it?"

Draco pulls back a bit. "Did your dormitory door lock, hmm, Potter?"

"Er, no," Potter says.

Draco smirks. "And did you, or did you not, still jerk off behind the curtains of your bed, despite the fact that a teacher could emerge any minute, or Nearly Headless Nick might float in to see what you were up to?"

"Er, yes," Potter says, the tips of his ears pink.

"Well then."

"Malfoy, I—"

Draco raises an eyebrow. "Don't you think that since I'm going to shove my hand down your trousers in a bit, it might be nice to call me Draco?"

Potter goes scarlet and he exhales an oh of trembling arousal. But . . .

Draco casts an eye around the room, then lets Potter go, pacing over to a carved dark-wood chair by the fireplace and picking it up with a wince – the thing's fucking heavy, and is he a wizard or what? – and carrying it to the door, shoving it under the handle to jam it.

Then he struts back to Potter, who's – unfortunately – pulled himself together a bit and who rolls his eyes. "My hero," he says, sarcastically.

Well, Draco likes that.

Potter snorts. "Don't sulk, Draco," he says, and softens the insult by leaning in to kiss him – hard, with a hint of teeth – and then more than a hint as he pulls back slightly and gently bites Draco's lip, then kisses the sting better.

It's not what he expects from Potter, and that somehow makes it even hotter. This is happening. This is really happening. His hands find their way back under Potter's T-shirt, slipping up his back, and stroking lines up and down his spine. Potter shivers under his touch, and deepens the kiss, and Draco feels bold enough to fumble for the hem of Potter's top and drag it up, breaking off the kiss so he can yank it over Potter's head.

This is not as smooth a move as he could have wished; Potter's nose is, clearly, enormous, because it gets caught, as do his glasses, and they – the glasses, not his nose – fly off when Draco gives a final yank.

"Ow," Potter says pathetically, and sniggers.

"Just how blind are you, anyway?" Draco asks.

"Ish," Potter says helpfully, and rubs at his face. There are red marks on his nose where the glasses sat, and Draco, overcome by something unspeakably soppy, leans forward and tips Potter's head forward, kissing the bridge of his nose.

"Well, that was weird," Potter says, and grins easily to take the sting out of it. His gaze is unfocused, but he reaches forward and tugs at Draco's own T-shirt, drawing it easily over Draco's head, and then . . .

"Accio glasses," he says, and his glasses fly into his hand. He shoves them back on his nose. "You didn't scar at all!" he says accusingly.

Draco looks down at his chest. It's a fine specimen of a chest, even if he says so himself. Smooth and lean and, yes, flawless. He feels glad he indulged himself in all that running; it's been useful for this, if nothing else. "Nope," he says.

"I felt SO GUILTY!" Potter says, obviously ever so slightly heated up.

"It still fucking hurt," Draco says with a snort, and reaches down to take Potter's hand, placing it on his chest. It's an understatement; he genuinely thought, in the moment that Potter struck him with the curse, that he was going to die.

Potter runs his hand over Draco's chest, and Draco's nipples pebble under his touch, which seems to fascinate him – he rubs a thumb in lazy circles over one nipple. Each pass sends waves of sensation flooding through Draco's body, and his cock twitches in rhythm with Potter's thumb.

Potter – Salazar – bends and covers the nipple with his mouth, his tongue darting out to flick it. It's warm, and wet, and when he does it again, a groan slips out of Draco's mouth.

Potter's face is pink when he raises his head, and Draco can't resist kissing him again, slow and lazy, but with increasing fervour. He's fucking irresistible.

₍՞◌′ᵕ‵ू◌₎♡*✲ﾟ*｡⋆♡ོ

#Tea and No Sympathy #who_la_hoop #Drarry fic rec #fic Rec #drarry fanfiction #Drarry squad #Draco malfoy #Harry potter #Time Travel #Carey's Bookmark Fic recs #Drarry #Carey's Personal Bookmarks #my recs #long post

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adultswim2021 · 3 years ago

Text

Sealab 2021 #29: “Meet Beck Bristow” | December 14, 2003 - 11:15 PM | S03E09

They should’ve just not aired this. Hollywood Actor Beck Bristow (dot com) shows up to Sealab to do some research for a role. He acts the way an arrogant, self-absorbed movie star would act. Then he leaves. That’s basically it. Okay, there’s a little plot: the crew is sorta vying for a technical advisor position on his new project. But they don’t make that much of it. It’s a thin premise that allows them to make some not-very-original jokes about Hollywood-types.

The jokes about Hollywood are completely toothless. Compare this with “Tourist Season,” where alcoholics, the obese, children with learning disabilities, and all of middle-America in general are all treated with disdain. Ironic disdain? I can’t really tell, to be honest. In this episode the rich and powerful Hollywood actor is in Sealab’s satirical cross-hairs. And how do the rich and powerful Hollywood elite fare in this? Well, they basically get their hair mused up a bit and called “knucklehead” as though a parent were endearingly ribbing their kid for doing something mildly stupid.

Brian Bloom is the voice of Beck Bristow, which I’m not sure I ever bothered learning before. A dying Harry Goz is the voice of Captain Murphy, which makes this one of the most conceptually ghoulish episodes of the entire series. They inexplicably put a deep-sea diving helmet on Murphy just so that they could filter his voice as though it’s coming out of a com-link or something. You can really hear the not-wellness in Harry’s voice, and it’s a bummer. All to make tepid jokes about Hollywood guys.

This episode strives to have a point-of-view (could end sentence here) of someone who works closely with these Hollywood types and knows all too well what they’re all like. But it comes off like a teenager’s approximation of what Hollywood is like based on watching other movies and TV shows with similar “insider” jokes. The writers must’ve binge-watched “Action” staring Jay Mohr and thought “hey let’s do a tepid version of that”. Just like the theme goes, even a dog can shake hands/write an episode of Sealab.

This episode also had the pretensions of having a website made for it: hollywoodactorbeckbristow.com. You’ll have to visit archive.org to see it. Last year it actually re-directed to Sealab 2021′s landing page on Adult Swim’s website. Now it doesn’t even load. It seems like In it’s final years of existence it just re-directed to Sealab 2021′s landing page. Maybe it will again some day. The dream would be to snake it and have it re-direct to this write-up. Anyway, it’s mildly interesting to click around on it. There was a “blog” on there which updated sporadically until about early 2004 when it was completely abandoned. It’s insane to think anyone thought that this joke had legs beyond airing on TV once. But if you wanna make it in show business you gotta try out some wacky ideas like make a website for a fictional character or force an elderly cast-member to work from his death bed.

MAIL BAG

Kon writes:

It may seem like Adult Swim spared us a Seth Green Space Ghost, but in reality Space Ghost has inflicted more Seth Green on the public than Seth MacFarlane, Harry Elfont, and Deborah Kaplan combined; Seth Green pitched Robot Chicken during his Space Ghost interview and the rest as we say is history. This isn't irony or an own or me doing a disinformation presented as truth joke like I like to do, it is true. It's real.

Damn, I did not know this. Well, the difference between a Seth Green Space Ghost and Robot Chicken is that I’d feel compelled to watch a Seth Green Space Ghost by virtue of the fact that it’s Space Ghost. With Robot Chicken I can simply not watc--(realizes I am writing this on a blog where I promise to watch every Adult Swim original and this includes Robot Chicken) god fucking damnit.

James Corden's a nice bloke. Met him once at a CVS (that is the british equivalent of a Fred Meyer, your favorite store :rolleyes:)

Hey come on. First of all he can’t possibly be nice. Is CVS British?? They are here too you buttmunch. God, you are being too nasty for this. I am pissed off now.

I'm thinking of getting the new Popeye's chicken nuggets

Good for you. Do me a big favor and don’t send me your review of them okay pal

Crispy, crunchy, flavorful, you see they got that dense breading that their regular chicken has. They really aren't playing around. And the white meat is seasoned well and the dipping sauces are pretty good. Nothing stellar with the dipping sauces but they get the job done. The real star is the nuggets themselves and I'm giving them, The Popeyes Chicken Nuggets, Five Outlaw Stars these are pretty incredible you get 8 in a pack and they are quite tasty.

Shut up!

Without rewatching any of the episodes who is your favorite celebrity guest spot on Tim and Eric Awesome Show and/or Tom Goes?

This is remarkably difficult, because I tend to think not that favorably off the celebrity guests. Do I count comedy people that are sorta regulars? Will Forte is too frequent of a guest star, for example. John C. became very regular and shouldn’t count. I really, REALLY love that one joke in Fred Armisen’s Hobby Holes bit that’s nearly impossible to describe via text where he is quoting a letter he received and they mock up a graphic with just that one line followed the closing of the letter, even though there was more after that. Christ, I’ll find it on Youtube. Okay, it’s this. I guess that’s my answer.

#adult swim #adultswim2021 #sealab 2021

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harrywritingsbyme · 4 years ago

Note

Y/N roleplaying as Harry’s maid!

Dress Up

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One

This One Too

Anonymous Said: U should Highkey write a boot humping one jeez

A/N: I feel like roleplaying is kinda duh with Harry. Like of course that man would have you in different costumes as he pounds the living shit out of you...and that's hot as fuck😗👉🏾👈🏾so I wrote something about it. Enjoy🙃

Almost 4k words

Roleplaying is definitely something that you and Harry are very familiar with and very fond of. When the idea of dressing up and stepping into a role of someone else while pleasuring each other first came up, both you and Harry weren’t against it in the slightest. The both of you are always interested in trying new things out in the bedroom, so when roleplaying came up, you and Harry were nothing short of excited and openminded to giving it a try. And let’s just say that the excitement didn’t stop at the simple idea of it all. Once you and Harry gave roleplaying a shot, you guys were absolutely hooked. You two were so obsessed with roleplaying that you went as far as to create a list of all the different scenes and roles the two of you wanted to play. The sex was already amazingly fun and spicy. Roleplaying just added another, and very welcomed layer of fun and spice to you and Harry’s incredibly active sex life.

And as the two of you continued on your journey through roleplaying, you began to add things on and make the experiences ten times better than they already were. For instance, instead of having an isolated event of you and Harry roleplaying in the bedroom (or out in public sometimes if you two were feeling extra frisky), the two of you would prolong things and stretch it out to carry you both through the entire day. Along with this, you and Harry also decided to add some pieces of clothing to the mix. Either you or Harry would find costumes online that were perfect for the roles you two were dying to play and neither of you could say no to a costume for you guys’ roleplaying so there was no time wasted in purchasing the costumes. They were all so cute and sexy that you were absolutely in love with them. You were so in love that you were willing to play the same roles again just so you could wear the cute little outfit. Harry of course didn’t mind this one bit since you looked absolutely amazing in them, and he’d be flipping it up or ripping it off of your body anyway to be inside of you.

You guys’ newfound ritual of roleplaying was something that you two couldn’t get enough of.

This morning you and Harry were making light conversation during your post deliciously sloppy morning sex cuddles and the topic of you guys’ conversation managed to shift into the topic of possibly roleplaying for the day. You had some things that you wanted to get done around the house, and Harry had some work that needed to get done as well so the two of you figured that it would be nice to spend the day roleplaying a bit.

About two weeks ago, Harry had ordered a costume for you and it finally came in the mail a couple days earlier. As the two of you were crossing off the different scenarios for you two to try out, you and Harry saw that you roleplaying as his maid was next up on the list. So he decided to task himself with finding the best maid outfit on the market. He scoured the internet using the keywords slutty maid costume and sexy maids outfit to find the best one for you. Eventually he was able to find the best maid costume out there. It wasn’t by any means appropriate, but it did manage to leave something to the imagination. It was a tight little black and white dress with ruffles and frills that ended right below the lower curve of your ass. There was barely a top, perfect for your cleavage to spill out and ultimately pop out while you take care of your duties around the home. The frilly black and white skirt barely stopped below your ass, perfect for showcasing your thighs and perfect for Harry to have easy access for when he wanted to take you.

Since the two of you talked it over numerous times and you’ve given him the privilege to take you whenever and however he wanted with the only stipulation being that the safe word would immediately stop it all, Harry was making sure that he was taking complete advantage of this opportunity you’ve given him.

Now the previous details of the dress were great, but this outfit in particular had a unique detail that was the ultimate selling point for Harry. The entire dress would be secured onto your body by means of a pattern of laces that ran up the back of this costume. This meant that if you were walking away, Harry could simply latch onto the satin laces, yank you back towards him, and take you right then and there. Before placing the order, Harry decided to throw in a pair of white thigh high stockings with cute little bows on the top band. He knew you’d appreciate that little detail. He also throws in a shiny steel princess plug with a black jewel on top to complete the entire look. After a little over a week, the items finally arrive at your doorstep and now it was time to put them all to use.

Since you two were all in, Harry decided to add something to add something else to them mix. Since he had some work that needed to be taken care of and he was playing the role of your boss, Harry figured that he’d dress the part as well. So to add onto his role of your boss, he decided to throw on a simple pair of slacks and a crisp white button down. He wanted to make his power known to you and really immerse you both into this new world that you were creating.

Once the two of you are all showered and cleaned up, the two of you go into your own separate spaces to get ready for your day. Before you put your “clothes” on though, you have to lay yourself across Harry’s lap so that he could push the plug into you. You were capable of doing it all by yourself, it’s just that you loved when Harry did it. He’d call you his good girl and tell you how pretty you looked with your princess hole plugged. Anyways, once you’re all plugged, Harry helps you up from his lap and he sends you on your way to get dressed. But before you’re completely out of sight, Harry instructs you to leave the panties behind. That was going to make it even harder! How in the world were you supposed to hold his cum inside of you, which you knew for a fact he was going to make you do, without any panties?! It was already hard enough with them, let alone without. This was going to be a very interesting day. You delicately roll the pretty white stockings up both of your legs and you take a moment to appreciate the cute frilly bands with the little bows before putting your shoes on. Even though you were trying to bring on the sex, you were not about to do housework in a pair of heels. So Harry was just going to have to accept you and your converses. And it wasn’t like they were that noticeable, they matched the whole black and white thing you had going on so it wouldn’t be that bad. Once you’re all laced and dolled up, you slip the dress onto your body. Even though it wasn’t snug yet, you had to give Harry credit for this one. You loved how cute yet sexy it was on your body.

“I need help.” You softly announce, stepping back into the shared space of you guys’ bedroom. When your voice rings through Harry’s ears, he’s quick to turn in your direction. And as soon as he does, he is completely locked in on you. Everything he picked out was just the way he imagined it’d look on your body (minus the dress at this point of course).

“C’mere.” Harry beckons, waving his hand over for you to come over to him. You swiftly walk over to him and turn around so that he could take care of the back of your dress. Without saying a word, Harry begins to adjust and tighten the satin laces. “Look so good baby.” He mutters lowly behind you, continuing to focus on fastening your dress.

“Thanks.” You reply simply. After a few more pulls and adjustments, Harry was tying the laces into a little bow at the bottom of the upper part of the dress.

“Alright, now let me see you.” Harry says, moving his hands to your waist to turn you around to face him. With the costume properly on your body, he was able to see all of things he was looking forward to seeing when he ordered it online. Your breasts were pushed up on the verge of spilling out the way he hoped and he was very much looking forward to watching them move around a bit as he fucked into you. He then shifts his attention a bit lower and before you know it, he’s bringing his and up under your skirt to see whether or not you followed his instructions. When he feels that you’re completely bare and not wearing any panties, he gives you a little pinch and brings his hand away from you. “Look so good babydoll, just wanna bend you over and tear into that pussy.” Harry grumbles down to you. He knew you’d look good, he wasn’t expecting this though.

“Whatever you want sir, have t’make the bed anyways.” You comply submissively. And with that, you’re being spun around and pushed down onto the bed. Harry is quick to undo his pants and pull out his hard cock before kneeling onto the bed behind you. He flips up the bottom of your skirt to expose your plugged hole and your sopping wet pussy. As Harry takes in the sight before him, his hand subconsciously begins to tug at his solid shaft. He quickly snaps out of his trance and spits down onto your pussy. He uses the head of his cock to smear it all over you before pushing into your weepy and velvety hole. As he pushes into your cunt, you let out the loudest moans and whimpers possible. It didn’t matter how many times Harry fucked you into oblivion, you were never going to fully adjust to his cock. You could feel him invading your walls and stretching them to fit his large cock as he pushed himself all the way into you.

“Who would’ve thought that my little maid has such a pretty little pussy.” Harry grunts, pushing the rest of the way in and settling into the deepest part of your body. “If you’re a good fuck I might just keep you around.” Harry grumbles, pulling his hips back from you. And within a split second, they’re slamming right back into you. From that point on, he doesn’t stop. He continuously slams into you over and over again, not once stopping to let you adjust. Even though there wasn’t a little window for adjustment, it still felt so good. The way he was just pounding into your pussy without giving you a second thought was insane. You loved the way he was using you for his pleasure. As he continued to pound into you, you could feel him nudging at the pit of your stomach and slamming into your sweet spot all at once, shoving you close me to the edge with every thrust. His cock wasn’t the only thing pushing you closer and closer to your release though. His words were also doing a number on you. He was constantly calling you his pretty little fuck toy and making it known that he controlled you.

As Harry fucked into your pussy, he couldn’t stop thinking about all the things he wanted to do to you today. He wanted to make you do any and everything he said when he said it and he wanted to make a full blown mess out of you. He also wanted the area between your delicious thighs to stay sticky and always ready for him.

“Now what’s your purpose?” Harry grunts, sending one hard thrust into you and staying there until you answered.

“To serve you!” You cry out to him, tightly gripping onto the sheets.

“That’s right. And what’s my name?” He asks, lifting his hand to deliver one swift blow to your backside.

“Mr. Styles!” You whimper out to him from the sting of that hard slap.

“M’gonna have so much fun with you.” He growls before continuing on with his thrusts. You were so close and Harry could feel it. He could feel your walls clenching up around his cock and he could hear your whimpers become shakier. This was pushing Harry right to the edge and he was about to topple over. “Don’t cum until I say so.” He shudders, sending one final thrust into you and releasing his seed inside your walls. You listen to him pant behind you as he pulls himself together from his release.

Once he’s calmed down, he pulls his cock from you, wiping any left over cum that was on his cock onto your ass. Before standing from the bed to redo his pants, he leans down to press a kiss to your neck and he tells you that he loves you. He always did that in the beginning of any type of roleplaying between the two of you. He did that because it could get pretty intense and he wants to make sure you know that he loves you and that he’s just playing a character. He then gets up and does his pants and everything back up before making his way out of the room. Before leaving you alone, he stops to make his first “official request” of you.

“Don’t lay there too long, you have a job to do. And change the sheets while you’re at it, don’t want a cum stained duvet on my bed.” He orders before heading out of the bedroom and to his office downstairs, leaving you limp in the bed with his cum leaking out of you and a release still bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

It was going to be a really long day.

And it was. After Harry gave you a list of things to do (even though you had already planned on doing them), you went on your way and worked. As you did so, Harry’d come around and find you, inspecting your work and pointing out what you’d miss. When you went to go fix your mistake, he’d start to touch you. He’d push his hand down the top of your dress and squeeze your breasts. He’d leave kisses and suck marks into your neck. He’d reach up under your dress to move your princess plug around, telling you that if you did the job right he’d pour some of his cum inside. He would even wrap a hand around your throat, tight enough so his rings made little indentations in your skin, and then he’d spit into your mouth. This wasn’t even the half of it. These were innocent in comparison to the other things he’d do to you. Sometimes he’d quietly come up behind you and just push two fingers into you (even though he knew that you were constantly wet, he still sucked on them just in case. He wanted you to be comfortable.). He’d finger you so good and bring you to the brink of your release just to stop. He would also thrust up into you through his pants and pretend like he was fucking you. He’d do this because that’s what you wanted. You were constantly wanting his cock and in this situation, he had the sole power to give it to you. Amongst his many antics, Harry would also order you down onto your knees and make you suck his cock. He’d pinch your nose and thrust his cock into your mouth. He’d mock you and ask if your pretty little throat needed a break, when you nod yes, he’d simply reply with a too bad and go back to making you gag and choke on him. Once he finally came, your pussy was on the verge of exploding, your throat was a little sore, your eyes were watery, and your mouth was overflowing with your saliva and his cum. This all lasted for a good couple of hours before up until the time Harry had designated to stop working for the day.

When it was getting closer to that time, you made sure that you were standing in the doorway of his office just like he’d instructed you earlier. And you stood there quietly until he gave you further instructions, you didn’t want to get punished.

“Crawl.” Harry simply says, keeping his attention focused on the computer screen. When you hear him say that, you immediately drop to your hands and knees and you begin to crawl over to him. When you round his desk, you see him turned outwards towards you with one of his feet pushed outward in your direction. “Now I have a quick meeting I have to go to. You’re allowed to hump it all you want, but if I feel like you’re too loud I’m gonna make you hold my cock in your throat for as long as I want. Understand?” Harry explains.

“Yes sir!” You promptly reply you were in need of some type of friction down there. You’d take anything, even if it was just his boot.

“Good, and no cumming.” Harry replies before shifting his attention away from you. You then waste no time straddling his boot. It felt so good to have something between your legs again. During the entire meeting you were trying hard to stifle your moans and whimpers. Periodically, Harry’d look down and watch you hump his boot. He couldn’t help but mentally coo at how adorable you looked. You were a needy little thing, clinging onto his leg as you humped his shoe in hopes of some form of relief. The meeting lasts for a good 20 minuets, giving you the perfect amount of time to pleasure yourself.

What you didn’t know was that you’d be able to pleasure yourself even more.

“Y/n” Harry calls down to you to stop your movements, but you didn’t stop. You were so caught up in how good his boot felt against your pussy that you weren’t even paying attention to him. “Y/n” Harry calls out again, this time reaching down to tap your cheek. When you perk up to look at him, he couldn’t stop himself from laughing a little. You were so adorable. “Now you still have some things that need to get done. But since you worked so hard today, m’gonna let you ride m’cock. Is that fine with you?” Harry asks. The question was bordering condescending since he already knew the answer. You were humping his boot for goodness sake!

“More than fine sir! Thank you.” You reply graciously.

“Don’t thank me, just do it.” Harry replies nonchalantly, picking up his book from the desk to pick up where he left off. While he’s reading his book, you undo his pants and you pull them down with a little help from Harry. Once his pants are down and his cock is out, you straddle him and you wrap your hand around his girth shaft. Since he was so big, you often struggled with taking him on your own. Whenever he fucked you, he’d push into you all at once. But since you were in control so to speak, you had the power to pace yourself. And this is what Harry wanted. Whenever you had the power, you always took forever to get on his cock, you always fought with it and tried your hardest to take him inside. So while your fighting, he just passes the time with his book. After a while of listening to your whimpers and cries as his cock pierces into your weepy hole, you finally take all of him inside. His eyes dart up from the pages of his book to your face to see how proud you were for taking all of him.

“S’all inside! I did it!” You announce softly, yet excitedly.

“Good for you, now ride it.” Harry hums, keeping his eyes on the pages. He likes a little bit of background noise so having you bouncing on his cock and crying was a nice tune to cut the silence. As you get more and more comfortable, you begin to get a little rhythm going. You were so happy with the way you were taking his cock and you were feeling so good. Harry could see and hear that. And yes he was glad that you were feeling good on his cock, but he wanted you to be a bit of a mess. So as he continues to read, he thrusts up into you, screwing up the entire rhythm you had going. When you feel him go deep inside pf you like that you instantly yell out to him and push down on his stomach.

“Sir, too deep!” You whimper, beginning to pull away from him. But Harry was quick to nip that in the bud.

“If you try take me out, so help me I’m going to read this whole book, and the entire time I do you’re gonna sit here and not cum. Do I make myself clear little girl?” Harry grumbles, keeping his eyes on the pages.

“Yes sir.” You moan, continuing to move up and down on him. Since you’d been holding your releases all day and you weren’t allowed to touch yourself, you’d built up a ginormous release that was bound to over power you. As your movements continue, you feel yourself getting closer and closer. You try to hold back but it’s no use. Your release completely takes over your entire being and it catapults you off of the edge. “Oh my-“ You gasp, feeling your hot juices gush out of you. It felt incredible to finally let go and just feel your release(s). When Harry sees and hears you cumming, he’s upset. He specifically told you not to cum.

“You little slut.” Harry grumbles, snapping his book shut and placing it onto the desk behind you. “Did you just fucking cum?” He grumbles, looking towards you for an answer.

“Mhm.” You whimper in response, still trembling from you seismic release.

“Did you just fucking cum?!” Harry growls again, bringing his hand up to squeeze your throat. If you weren’t going to use your breath and answer his question, he was going to take it from you.

“Yes sir.” You gasp, your eyes widening at his tight grip.

“I want you to get off my cock and get back to work you aren’t getting anything now.” He growls to you authoritatively, letting go of your throat and pushing back as he does this to signal for you to get up. “And crawl on your way out.” He continues.

He then sends you a quick wink and smirk to let you know that it wasn’t Harry talking, it was Mr. Styles. This wink was also telling you that he was going to fuck you later.

Masterlist

#Harry Styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #my harry writing #concepts of h #harrywritingsbyme

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mikkomacko · 5 years ago

Text

Sweet As Honey 9

Harry won't admit it to anyone, but he hates being alone. He hated coming home to an empty apartment. He hated eating meals by himself. He hated going to bed by himself. He hated waking up by himself. Which is probably why he loves to be the one that wakes up first. Today, however, he doesn't mind waking up after y/n. Especially not when she's settled on his thighs, hips pressed to his plushy bottom, and sponging lazy kisses behind his ear and over the back of his neck. Her hand is tangled in his hair, the other stroking over his bare bicep tenderly.

"Bub," She whispers, voice sticky and warm. "are you up?"

He opens his eyes, just for a brief second before they're weighed back down with grogginess. Y/n strokes over his ear, tickling the soft skin, and Harry can't help but mold into his wife's touch. It's not until he's pushing back into her hips that he realizes his usually harmless morning wood is starting to worsen, throbbing thickly in his boxers.

"M'working on it darling," his voice is croaky and tired. "but part of me is definitely up for ya."

She giggles warmly. "What's new,"

Harry chuckles, rolling his hips forward into the mattress. He shivers, lips parting into a tired groan. Y/n tugs on his curls a bit, pulling his attention away from lazily rutting his cock into the mattress.

"Too sleepy to roll over and let me help you?"

Harry grunts. "Like feeling ya sat on my bum."

He can feel her roll her eyes, huffing as she lays her cheek on his bare shoulder blade. "Fine," she mutters, "guess I'll sit here and enjoy the ride."

Harry chuckles warmly, blinding reaching one hand back to grip her hip and tug her further up his bum, her weight pushing his cock harder into the matress. She pecks his shoulder, smiling against his skin as he grinds himself down. He can't keep his eyes open, brain foggy with sleep and pleasure. His whole body goes numb save for the sparks of white dancing in his belly and crotch. Y/n's touch is warm on his clammy skin, breath soothing as she kisses over his flexing muscles.

"Baby," Harry whimpers, fingers digging into his pillow for more leverage to slowly grind down. Y/n hums, nipping at his flesh. "Will ya talk to me? Please? Just... just sweet stuff?"

He feels her smirk. "Sweet stuff to make you come?" He nods lazily. "Awful mean of you to make me watch you come, to sit here and tell you how much I want it."

Harry gasps when he feels small rut of her own on his backside. "Don't wanna be mean," he whispers and he really doesn't. He's just far too tired to flip around and get his cock in her. "Keep doin' tha' darling, keep moving like tha'."

Y/n chuckles as if she were going to continue getting herself off whether she had his permission or not. They move in sync, grinding down together. It's incredibly sloppy and slow, Harry's head buzzing in a sleep-like state as he massages his cock into the mattress and y/n rubs down on him. And it's so completely desperate and whiny, so juvenile, humping and whispering hotly to each other. Harry imagines this is what high school sweet hearts must feel like, desperate and hormonal for the one they love, aching to feel good together. He never had a school sweet heart, but he thinks of y/n being his. Taking her home to a house that had a healthy father and a loving mother. Introducing her to a sister that didn't mind hanging out at home, giggling over cheap jokes at Harry's expense that he'll pout at, but not mind because at least she's happy.

His chest heats up even more at the thought and instinctively he reaches behind him for her hand. Y/n grips it, squeezing his fingers as she rolls over his bum with little mewls that make him tingle.

"Darling," Harry croaks, turning his head to her a bit more. She seems to understand, stretching up to connect their mouths in a kiss that feels so good he's able to ignore the ache in his neck. They remain locked like that, moving in sync and panting into each other's mouths until Harry's spurting into his boxers, hips twitching, and y/n's thighs are squeezing his hips while hers jerk over him.

They don't speak until they've caught their breath. "Promise I'll wash the sheets darling."

She chuckles, pecking his sweaty temple. "Hope you're not too worn out, got a long day ahead of us."

Harry grumbles, being awful dramatic, because he honestly doesn't mind shopping for his loves. And he'd be lying if he said he hated picking out clothes for his baby, especially those big fuzzy onesies with the ears on them. He however, doesn't know how much he'll enjoy it with Anne and Gemma following them around too.

"They're coming too, no?"

He can feel her amused smirk. "Gonna meet us at the mall later this afternoon," Harry can't help but grin. "which gives us time to shop for them."

He lifts his head. "Shop for them?"

"Christmas is in a month Harold and we're getting them a gift, no matter how upset we are with them."

Harry lifts his head, offended and embarrassed that y/n would think he wouldn't get them a gift. "Knew we getting them a gift, m'not a prick. Don't ya think s'bit early though?"

"Christmas is in a month." She tussles his hair. "And this might our only chance at shopping without them."

Harry huffs, falling back into his pillow. "Where have they been running off to anyway?"

"No idea." Y/n kisses the back of his head. "Now get cleaned and dressed while your son and I work on breakfast, ok?"

Dr. Wells and Harry share a common love for boxing. Though he admits on multiple occasions that he's no boxer himself, Dr. Wells and Harry talk about it a lot. It's a bit odd considering Harry is here to work out the knotted emotions that have been tying him down but he's not missing a chance to speak about his favorite hobby. It's familiar and exciting, the exact opposite of what he'd thought therapy would be.

"I'd never seen a match in my life!" At his sheepish admittance, Dr. Wells chuckles warmly.

"Are you kidding me? You became a professional boxer when you'd never watched boxing before?"

Harry shrugs, grinning when y/n squeezes his hand affectionately. "I'd never had an interest in boxing until I was about 14, and even then it wasn't something I'd thought of as my future."

"Well how did boxing start for you, Harry?"

Just like that, the ease and warmth that had built up in him vanishes. She must feel his change in demeanor because her hand tightens protectively. He hates it, hates the way he spirals back to the thirteen year old boy that bawled over everything and fought everything. Hates how terrified he feels. Hates that instead of his head flashing to him losing his family, it flashes to him losing to y/n. God, he could never lose y/n. He doesn't know what kind of dark circle he'd fall into this time if he lost her but he has a feeling he'd never be able to step off of it.

"I was mad," Harry murmurs, "was so mad that I just wanted to hit someone. Ended up knocking out this lad I went to school with in a street fight."

"What were you mad about?"

His eyes squeeze shut, fingers gripping y/n's so roughly he's surprised she hasn't protested. But she doesn't protest or pull away. She never does. Not when his chest suddenly tightens, as if struck by lightning that coils around his body and squeezes and squeezes until he's dizzy, his head swooping as if falling. Instead she someone finds her way behind him, sat on the backrest of the couch with her legs on either side of him. He doesn't realize his chest is heaving until she's wrapped around his torso, palm against racing heart.

"It's ok Harry," her voice is calm and strong in his ear, the exact opposite of him but exactly what he needs. "you're fine baby. You're ok, we're ok."

He latches onto her, hands holding tight to her arms. He tries to calm his breathing, to stop his tears but he can’t. Not with all of the anger and fear towards Jack fresh on his mind. He knows he needs to say it, needs to finally tell someone about the source of his trauma. It's the only way for him to feel better, to work on healing.

"Jack," Harry coughs out, laying his head against her arm. He nuzzles his cheek against her skin, thinking of all the nights she's held him like this and wiped his tears until he could fall back asleep. And she never pushed him for answers about what he'd dreamt or remembered in his sleep. She's always been so selfless and strong for him, fighting for him. It's time he does the same.

"Harry you don't have to talk-"

"Want to!" He gasps, cutting off Dr. Wells. He has to say something if he wants things to change. And even if everything is fighting against him, his girl is still fighting for him.

"Calm Harry," y/n continues, rubbing her fingers softly into his chest. He shivers, feeling her warm touch seep through his skin and muscles, squeezing into his tight heart. "Calm down for me and we can talk about it, ok?"

He nods, focusing on the feeling of y/n holding him. His mother used to hold him like this when he was a child, when he'd had a nightmare that left him sleepless or a flight with a friend that left him weeping. It's his favorite, being held like this. Sometimes he just likes to feel small and protected, safe in the arms of someone he trusts. He knows he couldn't be any safer in anyone elses arms.

Once he's able to catch his breath (for the most part) and his head has stopped swimmers with panic, he tells them. Shivering in y/n's arms, he tells them everything he's ever known about Jack. Two weeks after the death of his father, Anne moved Jack into their home. He was a tall skinny guy, the kinda guy you see hanging around outside of pharmacies trying to buy prescriptions off of the shoppers. He had short grey hair and a grizzly bears. His eyes were a cold blue color that Harry hated to look at. Jack was the opposite of his father. But it wasn't just his looks that he hated about Jack, it was the way Anne and Gemma acted around him. They were a broken family, and Jack knew that, and he took advantage of it. He promised Anne he could fill the hole Desmond left. He promised Gemma he'd pay for her schooling so she could become a doctor, like she's always wanted. He swore he could make them a perfect family.

He turned Anne into a house wife. She quit her job at the insurance office because someone had to be home to make sure everything was to Jack's liking. She spent hours in their bedroom, always claiming she was cleaning. Harry knew she was lying. He could hear her constantly crying, feel her heart shattering wails for Desmond. And when Jack came home and found her with swollen eyes, he was furious because Desmond was now non-existent. He was the man of the house now, she should only care about him.

Gemma, blinded by grief and Jack's fake promises, dug herself into a hole of school work and boyfriend's. Anything that could keep her out of that upside down house and closer to medical school. She was around to hear Jack's harsh words, to hear him yell at Anne, to see him push her into walls and breaking photos of Desmond. It was Harry that saw. It was Harry that helped Anne up after a fight, using the apron she always wore to wipe her tears. It was Harry that checked for bruises and cuts. It was Harry that repaired the family photos and cleaned up the mess they made. It was Harry that listened to Jack call him a no-good man, a disgrace to the house, a rodent feeding off of Jack's wealth and providence.

And it made him mad. It made him so fucking mad but what could he do? Anne didn't listen to his pleas for her to come back to him, to be the wonderful mother she used to be. He couldn't tell the authorities because he didn't know what would happen. Would that break Anne even more? Would that ruin Gemma's chances of going to her dream school? He couldn't risk it so he swore he'd stick through it. He'd hold himself back and just make sure Anne was surviving and Gemma was happy. Even if it meant he doesn't go to the school he wanted to go to or travel with his friends, because Anne and Gemma needed him.

After a year of too much anger, too much hurt, Harry couldn't take it. He'd heard of the street fights the guys at his school do. It was a spot for them to get their anger and stored up testosterone out at. He wasn't expecting anything to come out of it except for maybe a bit of relief. He'd managed to knock out the boy he fought, purely out of unkempt rage rather than skill. He was so mad that he had to literally be dragged away by one of the older boys hanging around. That ended up being Nick. He was 18 at the time and working as a recruiter for an underground boxing league. And he thought Harry had what it takes to make a good fighter.

That's how he started fighting. For two years he'd fought and trained illegally, always finding a way to hide his awful injuries from Anne and Gemma. And it helped him, a lot. He wasn't so hostile and angry at home because he'd taken it all out at training with Liam. He thought everything was going to be just fine. Until the night he lost his temper and his family.

The past few months of trying to fit into Harry's life have left Anne on the sidelines. Not that it's a bad thing, she's just never been there. She was always a part of the action, a pawn in whatever game was going on that day. The only time she ever considers herself being pushed off to the side was when her husband was sick. Of course she was by his side, doing everything she could to make the last bit of his life as wonderful as possible, but at the end of the day she was watching from the side as disease took away the love of her life.

Watching her son live happily without her, is an entirely different feeling.

She feels like a stranger every time she catches those innocent moments between Harry and y/n. The ones where his eyes go all soft and dreamy, murmuring unintelligible words to his wife. When he holds her close to his chest and dots kisses on the crown of her head without a single care in the world. When she watches the two of them cook breakfast together, silently making their way around the kitchen with an ease Anne and her husband had never been able to find. They always bumped into each other and made messes and burnt food when they cooked together. Harry and y/n aren't like they. They have something more, something new and unfamiliar to Anne. She wants to step off the sidelines but she's not sure where she fits in.

Especially when it comes to family outings. She feels like the benchwarmer of the team, watching longingly and hopeful at the others in the game. She wishes she knew what to do, what to say. Truth is, she hasn't been a part of a real family in so long she's not sure what she's supposed to do.

"Harry you're too heavy to be in the basket." Y/n groans, taking a second to find her grounding before pushing the basket down the aisle. Harry, legs folded and squished in the little cart with Arlo on his chest, grins proudly at her. Anne's chest aches at the way his eyes twinkle for her.

"You're doing great darling!" He encourages, watching her fondly. Y/n struggles to round one of the corners, groaning so dramatically she has Gemma giggling.

"You boys are getting too big for the basket."

"Nonsense, put your back into it."

It makes Anne smile, watching y/n laugh as she pushes them through the aisle. Gemma ends up holding the corner of the basket, helping y/n steer the two grinning boys.

The whole day feels like a blur, Anne watching her world move around her and not with her. Her chest physically aches every time Harry asks for Arlo’s opinion on a winter onesie or mittens and the baby just babbles little noises back. It’s obvious Arlo just enjoys the attention from his dad, giggling every time Harry smiles proudly at him and murmurs something along the lines of “S’my good boy, got daddy’s sense of styles and not mumma’s, huh?”

Anne feels herself getting knocked back each time she witnesses a moment of Harry being an absolute dream of a husband and father. She’s going back, back to when that little family in front of her was her and Desmond with Harry and Gemma. The final punch to her chest happens in the frozen food section of the grocery store, hiding behind y/n as Harry picks out a turkey. He’s removed Arlo from his chest,the bjorn now strapped to y/n instead. Harry, with his brow furrowed in thought, holds up the turkey he chose next to Arlo, comparing.

“Well s’bigger than you bug,” he informs Arlo, grinning when the little one squeals. “so I suppose it’ll do.” He drops a quick kiss to Arlo’s head and then y/n’s, and Anne is frozen for a moment, stuck in the memory of Desmond doing that same thing to Harry when he was just a toddler. The little joke always made Gemma laugh and Harry beam with pride for receiving his father’s attention. One gaze at Gemma lets Anne know she’s remembering the exact same thing.

The more Anne looks at Harry,the more she sees Desmond in him. In the way he loves on y/n and Arlo, as if they’re the greatest treasures to walk this world. The way he talks to Arlo, voice rumbly and warm, just like Desmond’s child-soothing voice. The way he holds himself, confident and compassionate. But there’s something more, a certain strength that Desmond never had naturally. The strength that he tried to gain with alcohol.

Harry’s become the man Desmond always tried to be.

Anne chased away Harry after she lost her husband, tried to find him in pathetic excuse for a man, when the real one she needed was caring for her after Jack went on one of his rampages. She chased away all she’d ever needed.

It’s there, the frozen food section, that Anne decides she hates herself. She really fucking hates herself.

"If he's got my pretty eyes, which he will, then this will looking fucking precious."

Y/n gasps dramatically, moving her hands to the sides of her tummy. "Language, you cocky bastard!"

Harry scoffs, brow furrowing in offense. "Ya just called me a bastard!"

"I'm housing him, I get a free pass."

Harry pouts, dropping the blue onesie he had into their basket. Y/n crosses her arms over her chest, quirking an eyebrow at him as he shuffles over to her.

"Not fair," he whines, moving around her. He slips his arms around her middle, hands cradling their unborn son. "house him if I could."

She giggles, turning to peck Harry's cheek. He can't help but smile, splattering a few kisses of his own onto her face. They stay intertwined for a few minutes, waddling down the baby clothes aisle together.

“I think we got enough baby stuff, Harry,” y/n gestures towards their full basket. He immediately shakes his head, too focused on the row of plushies in front of him to look at y/n as she pouts and hangs on the basket like a child. he spots a little bunny with big floppy ears, dimples sinking into his cheeks with triumph. He scoops up the animal, turning to the basket only to be met by y/n.

“M’tired and ache-y,” she whines, burrowing her nose into his bicep like she does when she’s sleepy. Harry cradles the back of her head, soothing scratching at her scalp. She falls into him, bones like jelly as she practically purrs.

“Just want to look a bit more, make sure we have everything for our bub, m’kay darling?” He promises, urging her to remove her face from his sweater. She takes a step back, allowing him to scoop her up bridal style.

“Harry!” She squawks, swatting at his chest. He just chuckles, placing her on the pile of baby clothes and blankets in the cart.

‘All better darling.” He kisses her forehead, placing the bunny on her lap. She eyes it thoughtfully, stroking one of its long ears as if she could picture their son holding the plushy, “S’cute huh?”

She nods, humming in thought as Harry pushes her through the aisles. It’s when he notices her dozing off, bunny tucked under her chin that he decides it’s time to go home. They get to the checkout, y/n struggling to get out of the cart with her belly in the way. “S’okay, I got it baby. You just stay in there and keep my baby all cozy.”

Y/n frowns a bit, falling back into her spot and handing Harry the items under her bum. “I could help, ya know?” She says matter-of-fact-ly.

He nods, chuckling to himself. “Don’t think this is free labor, darling. I’ll have ya pushing the bub and I around in the cart after he’s born.”

Y/n laughs, as if Harry’s lost his mind. He just chuckles, grinning wider when the cashier looks between them fondly. Harry shrugs, still smirking because he knows that she’ll do anything for him and their baby, just like he would.

"And we ask that you bestow a blessing upon our hosts tonight for opening up their wonderful home to us all. Even if we are all family." The room chuckles, Marie rolling her eyes at Steve's lame joke. "Amen."

In unison they all repeat "amen" and release each other's hands, Harry squeezing y/n's briefly before letting go. Separate conversations and the scraps of silverware fill the room, everyone digging into their Thanksgiving meal. Platters of food are passed around, Harry scrunching up his nose when the green beans arrive at his seat.

Harry looks down at Arlo sat in his lap, shaking his head. "Blegh," he grunts. "Us Styles men only eat peas, eh?"

Arlo's eyes flicker between Harry's before he coos an agreement, pushing the platter away with a chubby hand. Y/n shakes her head fondly, taking the vegetable from them.

"Two peas in a pod over there, huh?" Marie laughs, gesturing to Harry and Arlo. He smirks, bringing Arlo a little closer. She's teasing now but an hour ago she was practically tearing up at their matching sweaters and black pants.

"They keep each other busy." Y/n shrugs, but she leans a little closer towards them. She serves herself some green beans, elbowing Harry softly when he fake gags. "Oh shush and eat your peas!" She scolds, giggling.

Marie ropes Anne into a conversation, something along the lines of a neighbor Marie knows who just started dying their roots, and Chloe and Gemma have fallen into a comparison of two political pieces they read in a magazine the other day. Louis is trying to get Layla to try sweet potatoes, too preoccupied with his daughter to realize that Charlie is moving all his vegetables to his father's plate and grinning every time Steve chuckles at him.

Harry alters bites between Arlo and him, really only feeding the little one mashed potatoes or a sip of gravy. He makes it about half way through his plate before Arlo is squirming in his lap, declining all bites of food from Harry. He whimpers, reaching out towards y/n and whining "ba" at her, his word for bottle.

"I can get him darling," Harry offers, using Arlo's bib to wipe the mashed potatoes off his face. Y/n shakes her head, pushing her chair back enough to put Arlo on her lap.

"It's ok, you finish eating,"

"Want you to finish eating too."

Arlo grumbles, wiggling on her lap. "I'm a bit full, I'll just finish later."

Harry grumbles, the sound akin to the same little noise Arlo made moments ago. He pouts, reaching behind his baby’s neck to unclasp his bib and remove it. Y/n pats his knee, trying to hide her amused grin as she stands up and disappears into the kitchen. Harry falls back into his chair with a huff, meeting Marie’s fond gaze from across the table.

“Don’t be pouting Harold,” Louis snickers. “she’s already got a baby to deal with.”

Harry scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Well she better get used it ‘fore the other one’s here.”

“What?”

“Other one?”

“Knew it!”

“Harry!”

He freezes, pulling his lips between his teeth and turning to the entryway between the kitchen and dining room. Y/n stands there, Arlo in her arm as she feeds him from one of his bottles. She’s staring at him, eyes wide and chewing on her bottom lip as she waits for him to say anything at all. Harry can only stare, still shocked from the words that came out of his own mouth.

"Another one aye?" Louis breaks the tension. Y/n seems to snap out of her stupor, shaking her head at Harry as she returns to her seat. Arlo fusses in the crook of her arm, cooing softly around the rubber nipple between his lips.

"Surprise?" Y/n weakly offers, smiling. Louis exchanges a look with Marie and Steve, his lips parting into a grin. Almost instantly, everyone around the table is jumping up and rushing towards them.

"Oh congrats!" Marie cheers, opening her arms. "Now give us a hug, come on!"

They get their congratulations on, even Anne and Gemma hugging them and tearing up. Harry manages to wrap his arms around y/n and Arlo, pecking her forehead. "Sorry darling. Just slipped out."

She nuzzles her face against his shoulder. "It's okay. We were planning on telling them anyway, you just happened to do it without me." Arlo squeals as if agreeing with his mother.

The whole family seems to be buzzing from excitement, hurriedly finishing their food around questions and comments of happiness for them. Even after the foods been packed up and dishes cleaned, everyone changed into clothes that don't cut into their full bellies and sat on the couch, they can't stop fawning over the growing family. They sit as close together on the couch as possible, y/n and Arlo in Harry's lap to prevent them from being squished under the insistent cuddles from Charlie and Layla (and Louis).

Harry feels like he's floating, butterflies buzzing in his stomach and chest with pride. He can't take his eyes off y/n and Arlo, having to bite his lip to contain his smile when he watches y/n run her fingers through his hair or press kisses to his chubby cheeks. He's so caught up in her he barely notices when Louis and Chloe take the kids to bed, and Marie shakes Steve awake and guides him to their room for the night.

"Harry," Gemma mururms, drawing his attention from his wife and baby. She's sat on the loveseat with Anne, both of them fiddling nervously. Harry sits up at attention, wondering what could possibly be making them nervous like that. "Can we talk to you?"

He hesitates but nods, mind swirling. What is she going to say? That they've had enough? That they don't want to be here for the birth of a second child? That his family, his home, his care hasn't been enough? That it'll never be enough? He feels the pie he ate earlier turn in his stomach.

"Mum and I have been thinking, and now with the baby coming it seems like now would be a good time." Harry doesn't realize he's chewing on his thumb until he feels y/n's hand on his lower back. He relaxes at her touch, dropping his hand to his lap when she rubs circles into his skin.

"We think it'd be better for us, you two included, if we left."

Harry's chest tightens, heart squeezing and squeezing. His body goes cold, trembling as a familiar arm wraps around his chest from behind. He's having a panic attack. He's having a really bad panic attack.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #one direction #fluff #sweet as honey #sah 9 #sah #boxer harry styles #boxer harry #daddy harry styles #dad harry #dad harry styles #daddy Harry #husband harry

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mercurygray · 4 years ago

Text

You know that saying about ‘well, if you want to read it so bad, you damn well write it then?!”

Well, BoB fandom, ya girl has caved to base desire and done the thing. Brought to you by repeated readings of @junojelli‘s fine work, the beautiful scenery at Zell, and Dick Winters’ blessedly short swimtrunks.

It was not a fashionable swimsuit.

Vogue would show girls on the Riveria and the Cote d’Azur lounging on the beaches in the latest two- piece in some stunning, sunny pattern, but the standard issue Army swimsuit, like all its PT gear, was navy blue, one piece, and incredibly un-fun.

The fashionable nature of the thing wasn’t really of interest to you - three years wearing olive drab had made such points moot - but there was something about putting on clothes, looking in a mirror, and liking what you saw - and this was the most of your skin anyone would have seen out in public in a long time. No one could hide scars in a swimsuit - the hole in your calf, now puckered closed and white, the small collection of scar tissue along your arm where a group of fragments had decided to throw a party. The men could all joke about their scars, but a woman’s were...different.

Dick had wanted to go swimming this morning, and you’d promised you’d oblige, but that was before you’d put the swimsuit on and examined the effect in the mirror. Well, my legs look pretty good, anyway. Three years of running around Europe’s been good for something.

The morning was warm, and there seemed little reason for a coat. Grabbing a towel, a short walk down to the lake and its dock found Dick waiting with, of all people, Harry, who was either up incredibly early, or going to bed incredibly late, a half-finished glass of something slowly beading moisture onto the tabletop beside him.

“I was wondering how the hell you were going to get Lew up this early for PT,” Harry commented with a smile, sitting up a little in his deckchair. “When he said he was waiting for someone I don’t know why I wasn’t expecting you. Don’t go easy on him, Lieutenant. He needs a firm hand - been out to pasture far too long.”

It was laughable, looking at the long leanness of him, that anyone would say that Dick Winters had, at any point in his life, been out to pasture, but Dick’s little blush at the mention of a firm hand was nearly worth the price of admission, the subtle creep of color among his freckles as he squinted in the morning sun and tried not to look like Harry’s comment had unnerved him, as though there had not been plenty of firm hands and, well, firm lots of things the night before. Dick’s commitment to his privacy was really quite endearing - if only because it made all the things he actually did in private just that much more intense.

“Your ass looks great in that swimsuit, by the way,” Harry added, taking a sip of his drink and looking pleased with himself.

“If you wouldn’t say it to me, Harry,” Winters began, a little testily. You could practically feel the protective energy radiating off him - not an uncommon thing, but still something that brought a little thrill every time it came out.

“And your ass looks great as well, Dick,” Harry added without missing a beat, a huge grin on his face. “Would absolutely tap that, if, y’know, I was into gingers.”

Ignoring Harry’s antics and Dick’s rising annoyance, you rolled your eyes and said, before either could get a word in edgewise, “Thanks, Harry, I’ll tell Kitty you said so.”

“Please do,” Harry invited, leaning back in his deckchair to enjoy the sunshine. “Maybe she’d start sending me more interesting letters - or a new photo...”

“Ignore him,” Dick murmured, picking up the two towels he’d brought from the officer’s quarters (real towels, big white plushy things that were no match for the tiny G.I. green things you’d been using for years) and making his way down to the end of the dock.

You stopped and looked him square in the eye, hands on hips. “What, are you saying my ass doesn’t look great?”

The question did not need to be asked - you already knew his answer, as it seemed to be one of his favorite features of yours. But sometimes it was fun to needle him like this, pushing him to do or say things outside his usual range. He was not, by nature, a demonstrative man, preferring to express admiration (or censure) quietly and privately, and (particularly on this, the matter of his girlfriend’s appearance) where it could be subject to public commentary.

He pursed his lips, that determined, annoyed look that he often assumed when he was trying to master his patience, torn between what good manners and desire both asked of him. He cleared his throat, considering his options, and took a few steps to close the space between you. “It is -” and here he casually wrapped his hands over the offending bodypart, drawing you in close, his voice a murmur from deeper in his chest than was usual, “a vision of perfection.”

You stood up on tiptoe to kiss his nose and smiled, suspicions confirmed. “Thank you.”

“GET A ROOM, YOU TWO,” Harry hollered from the shore, now just enjoying being a nuisance - sadly, something that looked to become a permanent condition here in peacetime. “Jesus, out here in public being obscene...”

Dick looked ready to hit something, by the state of the vein in his neck, but you had this well in hand, turning away from him ever so slightly and with absolutely no pretensions to being ladylike, to shout “TAKE A HIKE, HARRY.” The lieutenant waved an arm as if to bat the suggestion away, groped for his drink, and settled back in his chair to consume it, eyes closed, his smile as wide as a cat that has just gotten into cream, doubtless now imagining Kitty at some poolside cabana looking lovely.

You turned back to Dick, and smiled. Harry was being a loveable ass, Dick was protective and in love with you and did not really give a damn about the swimsuit, only the woman in it, and the sun was shining, and for today, there was no war. All was right in the world. “So, are we still going for that swim, or no?”

Edited to add: If you liked the nameless woman in this drabble, she’s basically my original character Joan Warren without her nametag on. You can read more about Joan (and her relationship with Dick Winters) in The Darkening Sky.

#is this what the kids are doing nowadays?#dick winters #band of brothers imagine #dick winters x reader #band of brothers #1940s girl gang #bc you know ONE OF THEM is the girl in the suit #band of brothers x reader #richard winters x reader #damn you eisenhower and your damn jackets

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slytherinknowitall · 4 years ago

Text

Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 17: Falling For The Underdog

(Click here for chapter 16!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

The following weekend, Severus found himself in a situation that he would have never thought possible – he spent the entire day with a woman.

Despite it being a Saturday, Granger had arrived at his private quarters quite early. While he usually woke up long before the rest of the castle, Severus had never really considered himself a morning person. He normally worked late and slept little, often waking up in a cold sweat after just a few hours of sleep due to horrible nightmares. So needless to say, he had been rather surprised when his apprentice had shown up at his door long before the house elves had even started to prepare breakfast. As he’d let her in, he had asked himself if perhaps she was suffering from the same problem as him.

The two of them had spent a lot of time together over the past week. Ever since he had given her unimpeded access to his rooms, Granger had come by even more often than before, and so they had often spent their evenings together. Everything inside him was still screaming that this was wrong, that they were becoming way too comfortable with each other. But yet, he could not help but feel a rush of ecstasy surge through his entire body every single time she walked into his sitting room.

He had given her the password in what had been almost a moment of mental aberration, and he had soon started to regret it. He had tried telling himself that the reason for that regret was that such an action was simply inappropriate for a teacher, but deep down, he knew that he was really just scared of rejection; scared that she would not take him up on the offer and that she would find it creepy and weird. But the next day, when he had come back from teaching the fourth year Slytherins and Gryffindors, he had found Granger in his sitting room, fussing over a small sandwich platter from the kitchens which was placed on the table in front of her. Severus still could not have described the emotions he had experienced upon seeing this. On one hand, he had felt massive relief. On the other, it had felt weirdly domestic for some reason; almost as though he had come home after a long day of work to a loving home – something which had been completely new to him.

Sometimes, the pair would be working on potions together, and other times, Severus would be sitting at his desk marking essays while Granger would curl up on his sofa as she studied. Today, however, they were doing what both of them loved the most: reading.

The Potions Master was seated in one of his big wing chairs, a copy of his favourite journal, The Practical Potioneer, in his hands, whereas Granger was spread out across the sofa as usual, deeply engrossed in his volume of Hélas, Je me suis Transfiguré Les Pieds by medieval French wizard Malecrit. Over the last couple of days, Severus had slowly begun to notice how eager she seemed to get her hands on classics from the wizarding world, and he did not exactly know how to feel about that – to him, it somehow appeared as though she was almost desperately trying to make up for the time she had spent growing up around Muggles.

They had both been reading in silence for a while when Severus stumbled across an especially interesting paragraph on the uses of Alihotsy in magical antidepressants. Opening his mouth to share this new piece of information with the knowledge-hungry witch, he looked up and instantly had to draw a sharp breath. Unbeknownst to him, Granger had shifted in her position a few minutes ago, and now her grey skirt had ridden up just far enough to reveal her toned thighs as well as barely the slightest hint of the subtle crease running horizontally underneath her behind.

Severus gulped. It was hard to ignore the way that the shadows of the fire burning a mere few feet away were dancing across her tender, milky flesh. Why was she wearing her uniform – a uniform with what now suddenly seemed like a ridiculously short skirt – on a day with no classes?! For a split second, the thought that she was trying to seduce him crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed that. Never in a million years would Granger be the type of person to try to recreate a scene from a low-budget adult movie, especially not with one of her professors. And if he was being honest with himself, he would have found her appearance bewitching even if she had been wearing a potato sack.

Having long forgotten about what he had originally wanted to say, he blurted out the first thing he could think of. “I do have to say, I find it rather bizarre that Miss Weasley of all people would behave in such a manner towards you. I would be terrified of making someone even remotely angry if they knew of my deepest secret.”

Granger did not even look up. “But that’s not how friendships work.”

“What?” His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“A real friend would never betray you just because you’ve had a fight with them,” she said as she pushed herself up into a seated position. Severus did not know if he was glad or disappointed that her legs were now covered again. “A promise is a promise. That fact doesn’t change just because you’re having a disagreement or because you don’t like each other anymore.”

Yet again, he was pleasantly surprised by her maturity; it made him feel a tiny bit less like a predator preying on an innocent girl.

“Plus, the real problem is Ron. I love him –“ Severus felt a slight sting at these words. “But he’s just so unpredictable sometimes. And at the end of the day, Ginny will always side with him, because he’s her brother, and Harry will do the same, because he’s his best friend and because Ginny is his girlfriend. All three of them are on the Quidditch team together, and they all share common interests. I am the odd one out, and so if someone has to leave the group, it will always be me first.”

Severus was stunned. He wanted to disagree, wanted to tell her that what she was saying was wrong – but he knew that it was the truth. Just like himself, she was and would always be an outsider.

“Anyway,” Granger continued, taking a look at her wristwatch. “I think I have to go. I still want to stop by the library to pick up some books before it closes. Thank you for having me, as always.”

And with that, she stood up, straightened out her clothes and put the book she had been reading back in its place on one of the countless shelves lining the dark room before making her way to the exit. But just as she was about to disappear through the hole in the wall, she lingered for a second.

“Professor Snape?”

Severus was caught off guard by how nervous she suddenly sounded. “Yes, Miss Granger?”

She took her bottom lip between her teeth. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, but the other teachers normally address me by my first name when I’m alone with them. So perhaps you could do that, too? Only in private, of course.”

Severus gave her a calculated look. It probably sounded nonsensical, especially after he had already allowed her into his chambers, but he was still somewhat afraid of getting too close to her. Wasn’t using her first name taking it a bit too far? But at the same time, her request flooded his soul with a feeling of genuine happiness.

“All right … Hermione.”

*************** *************** ***************

“Come on, Hermione, I know you’re in there! Open the door!”

The brightest witch of her age was surprise to hear what sounded like frantic knocking as she climbed up the stairs leading to her Head Girl suite. It was not long until she arrived at the top and discovered a certain redhead banging on her door.

“I know you’re really mad at me, but can we please just talk about it?”

“Ginny?” she said, making the other witch jump in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“Hermione!” Ginny exclaimed before running towards her friend at the speed of light and hugging her so hard that the two of them almost tumbled over. “I am so, so sorry! I know I treated you like crap, and for a stupid reason, too! I don’t know what got into me, I’m just so stressed right now, and I let Ron get the better of me! Harry is also sorry, but Ron is still mad, and so he feels like he’s sort of caught in the middle, and –“

Hermione took a step back and offered her a smile. “Gin, it’s all right. No hard feelings, okay?”

“Oh, you are truly too good for this world!” Ginny called out before moving in for another suffocating embrace.

Hermione could not suppress a chuckle. She was still upset about how she had been treated, of course; but she had learnt a long time ago that sometimes, being happy was more important than being right. War hero or not, at the end of the day, she was just a girl, and a girl needed her best friend.

Now that their frivolous fight was finally behind them, it did not take long before the two teenagers fell back into their old ways. They soon found themselves on Hermione’s bed, with countless Muggle nail supplies spread out around them, talking about this and that. However, the newest Hogwarts gossip was not really able to awaken Hermione’s enthusiasm like it usually did. Something had been occupying her mind for a few days now, and it took her a long time before she finally mustered up the courage to bring it up.

“Hey, Gin …” she said meekly.

“Yes?” Ginny replied, biting her tongue in concentration as she carefully painted the tiny nail of one of her little toes in a pastel pink colour.

“Um …” Hermione had absolutely no idea how to broach the subject. “I need your advice on something.”

It was only then that the sixth-year looked up.

“What’s going on?” she asked concerned.

“So …” Taking a shaky breath, she decided to just make it quick and painless, like ripping off a band-aid. “I think that I might be starting to like Professor Snape.”

Oh Merlin, she had finally said it aloud! After many sleepless nights of confusion, dismay and solitary pining, she had finally admitted it – to Ginny and to herself.

Too scared of her reaction, Hermione did not dare to look Ginny in the eyes. But to her surprise, the only response was a high-pitched giggle.

“Hermione, you like all teachers. So I’m not at all surprised that you like that tosser, too. Even though I do not know how you could, especially enough to become his apprentice and –“

“No, I –“ She rubbed the back of her neck with a trembling hand. “I think I might fancy him.”

“WHAT?!” yelled Ginny as she jumped to her feet, knocking over a couple of bottles of nail polish and spilling their content all over the comforter in the process.

“Ginny, please!” she tried to calm her down, but it was to no avail – the whirlwind that was Ginevra Weasley had already been unleashed.

“You have a crush on Snape? SNAPE?! The greasy git of the dungeons? The most hated teacher in all of Hogwarts? That Snape?!”

Her look was filled with nothing but disbelief and betrayal.

“Gods, I don’t know!” Hermione’s eyes were starting to burn and fill with tears. She could not help but feel embarrassed. “I have all of these confounding feelings, and I don’t know what to make of them, okay?!”

“Hey, hey, come on! It’s nothing to cry about.” Ginny hurriedly sat back down and rubbed her back reassuringly, though she still had horror written all over her face. “Even if we’re talking about Snape here.”

A salty tear rolled down Hermione’s blushed cheek. “I don’t even know when it started, I just –“ The words got stuck in her throat as she erupted into sobs. “How can I like a teacher in that way?! Like, maybe that could even get me EXPELLED!”

Ginny pulled her into a half hug. “Now, calm down, we’ll figure this out somehow! Why do you like him?”

Hermione sniffled. “I don’t know! It’s just that he’s being so nice to me!”

“Really?” Ginny tilted her head to the left, obviously doubting the statement. “Snape and nice?”

“Yes, extremely nice!” Hermione blurted out as she wiped her flushed face with the back of her hand. “You know, after our stupid argument, I felt so sad and miserable. But then he invited me over, and we had some tea, and he let me vent. He consoled me, Gin!”

In hindsight, the brunette would later realise that she did not know how exactly he had become aware of their fallout in the first place. She certainly had never openly mentioned it in front of him. But at that moment, with her raw emotions causing mayhem inside her mind, the thought did not occur to her even once.

“You’re kidding!” Hermione could only shake her head before she broke into tears again. “Hey, I’m sorry! It’s just hard to imagine that someone like Snape might actually have some real human feelings.”

“Well, he does! I feel like he actually cares about me, you know? Like, it almost feels as though he’s my friend. He even gave me the password to his rooms so that I would have somewhere to retreat to.”

“WHA–“ Clearly forcing herself to remain calm, Ginny took a deep breath. “Are you being for real?”

“Of course! I’ve been spending time there every day!”

Shocked, Ginny put a palm on her chest. “Hold on! Severus Snape, a grown man and teacher at this school, is allowing you, a beautiful 18-year-old student of his, in his private quarters where the two of you are completely alone? Ew, what a creep!”

“It’s not like that!” Hermione protested, her facial features contorting into a grimace. “Never once has he done anything even remotely inappropriate! We just work on something together or read some books, and sometimes we eat meals together. If anything, I’m the one who has taken it too far.”

“What do you mean?” No response. “Hermione?”

“I hugged him once …”

It was merely a whisper, but she heard her nonetheless.

“YOU DID WHAT?”

Hermione hung her head, burying her hands deep in her massive brown locks. “I hugged him in the Entrance Hall during the Hallowe’en Feast. We had talked earlier about how he didn’t want to come because of how much he hates dressing up, but then he surprised me by showing up with his teeth charmed to look like a vampire and … I don’t know, I just became so excited, and before I knew it, I was hugging him!”

Ginny could only look at her, baffled-eyed. “Did he, like, hug you back?”

She thought about it for a second.

“Yeah, I think so.” She scrunched up her face. “I liked it, too.”

No one said anything for a long time. Then, letting out a forced laugh, the redhead ultimately mumbled, “Wow, I … really don’t know what to say.”

“I’m screwed!” Hermione exclaimed as she teared up again.

Ginny let out a huge sigh. “Look, at the end of the day, you cannot help who you fall for. And while I’m certainly not a fan of the Dungeon Bat myself, you definitely could have done worse.”

Ignoring the other girl’s glare, she continued, “He’s smart, just like you, and according to what you told me, he’s also treating you right. And to be honest, he’s not really as ugly as we all make him out to be. So liking him is not as ridiculous as it might sound at first. Plus, maybe this infatuation is just a phase. So many girls get crushes on their teachers at some point. Chances are by tomorrow you’re already over it.”

She grabbed her hand. “The only thing I’m worried about is how friendly you two seem to be getting. This could actually get you into major trouble should anyone notice. And it will also not help you get over this silly crush if you keep seeing him this often. So maybe just try and distance yourself for a little while, ‘kay? I bet that once this whole thing with Ron blows over, your feelings won’t be all over the place like this anymore.”

(Click here for chapter 18!)

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