#better than harry potter

[not-quite-so-intrepid-hero]

First magic after Hogwarts letter:

Shower of baby powder that smells like a basketball

Transfiguring lint into a McDonald’s Sundae

Summoning a broom with scented pink magic

Warping space and throwing a kid onto a rock in the middle of the sea

[captain-sweatyfanstudent-stuff]

How the fuck is this anime parody of Harry Potter so much more entertaining than the original!?!? 🤣 Mashle: Magic and Muscles.

[pbpsbff]

why is the number 1 fic by kudos with the tag glenn rhee a harry potter/daryl dixon fic. i can't escape harry potter fucking get me OUT OF HERE

[uidbmgmt]

“Metis Reverie (pronounced may-tis ree-veer-ree) is the titular character of Accept the Letter: A Metis Reverie Experience. She is 14 years of age and the youngest of two twins. Metis considers herself an inventor and all around problem solver. Her skills as such allowed her to pass off as a magi at TORDOVIA SCHOOL OF MAGIC, despite not having any magic of her own.“

This piece is a lovely commission for my friend and fellow small entrepreneur, K. Moongazer. Are you ready to start a new adventure? The book Accept the Letter: A Metis Reverie Experience is available for purchase on Amazon.

K. Moongazer was born and raised in the Pacific Northwest of the USA. Growing up, Moongazer always loved reading fantasy novels and playing video games. Discovering her love for storytelling has led her to develop her skills as a writer, consistently making expansive stories and connections. The art of story telling and helping others express themselves through these stories has always been what it’s about. Being hearing impaired with a menagerie of mental illnesses, including ADHD, Moongazer always wanted to be inclusive to the marginalized in all her writings.

Are you looking for some artwork? Whatever it be, my commissions are open so hit me up! Let’s create something together.

[alenablack]

I really really love the idea of Tom Riddle being raised religious (because of course he was, stuck in an english orphanage during a war, probably fed bible phrases in the place of a full belly) and the studious little shit that he is, he probably memorized the entirety of the King James edition of the bible. Probably slipped the more vicious pieces of the old testament into his monologues and speeches, swayed his followers with muggle blasphemy; a slight to both muggles and wizards alike.

[profoundmakerdreamerss-blog]

It is funny to me how Harry Potter is literally the main character, yet people tend to go like he didn't suffer that much or he wasn't "abused"; Like, how can one misunderstand the literal main character of the damn franchise?

He wasn't abused; yes okay. He absolutely did not grow up inside a cupboard; the tiny place that is mostly reserved for brooms or cleaning supply. He absolutely was not treated inferior to the other child who lived in the same house. He was totally was not treated like a "freak" or a "stain" that his family was ashamed off. He grew up inside a cupboard while there was a literal unused bed in the same house. And you want to know what that screamed to a child, a baby — who slept inside a cupboard while there being a perfectly usable room right there? You are worth nothing and we don't love you and we are ashamed of what you are.

He wasn't starved, or at least he was fed; Yeah, no. We see it from the first book. How Vernon was no food for you and in the cupboard you go — and by the looks of it, that was like his most common punishment. And then, in the second book — you practically see it happen. He was locked, inside a room with only a can of soup that he shared with Hedwig. Now, tell me what it would do to a child — to be given food through a cat flap, and fun fact? Harry got to eat less than people on war rations; in short? He was starved, yes.

He wasn't abused physically so it's not abuse; As for people's thinks abuse isn't abuse until it's physical (which is inherently wrong because abuse isn't only physically, fyi); Harry has learned to dodge Vernon and he states that, very proudly when his uncle tries to grab him. He dodges a flying pan and states that fact, again very proudly as if it is the norm; do you know how heavy pans are? And do you know what would happen when one hits you? If you want an even clearer proof; Vernon Dursley strangles Harry in Ootp. There you go. Also, in the first book, we clearly see Vernon encouraging Dudley to hit Harry. Read between the lines and actually try to understand what that signifies.

And favourite part; When he wasn't treated like a prisoner, or a freak— he was their servant. And that is very much canonical. Tending Petunia's garden during summers and drinking from the water hose in the garden because of how hot it was? Having to wake up early so he can tend the kitchen and when he wasn't doing all that he is locked away. And it is all canon.

In conclusion, Harry— not only grew up to think that he was inhumane, undeserving of love, a freak that didn't even get to have his own bed because someone like him didn't deserve it, physically harmed enough times that he dodges them out of reflex and also the Dursleys' glorified servant; that is not even taking into account what Harry went through in Hogwarts. And after all that if someone tells me; this child, right here — didn't go through much then well, maybe read the books again?

[tarlosmalec]

Fanfics on AO3 are very well tagged these days. You see barely a few authors (mostly amateurs) who don’t tag their works. Most of the time, if there are no tags, then there are summaries and warnings listed in the author notes.

So if you’re reading a well-tagged work and going to comment shit about it, don’t. You know what you’re going to find in there. If it’s not something you like, just leave.

Don’t harass those authors, man. These platforms are just creative outlets to most of them, an escape from their realities. A lot of times, these are the things that keep them going. Don’t be an asshole about it.

Don’t like, don’t engage. It really is that simple.

If you’re really brimming with hate that much, find some other ways to let it out. Idk, maybe smash a plate, pick up a sport, whatever. Just don’t hate on people for doing what they can to keep going while not harming others.

Damn, but the audacity people have here to put others down like that. Yikes.

[kinzis-writing]

Better than Revenge | M.R [2]

Y/N vowed to herself that she would get her revenge on her ex-boyfriend. The only question was, how would she get her revenge? What better way than to involve his best friend. After all, the worst thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies.

Pairing(s): Mattheo Riddle x Y/N Nettleby, Ex! Theodore Nott x Y/N Nettleby.

Warning(s): Mentions of cheating.

ii. “Wake up and smell the break up, fix my heart put on my makeup.”

Chapter One

"Who could possibly be better than you?" Hermione questioned as Y/N and the friend group sat around the table at breakfast. News had gotten around that Theo had broken up with the Gryffindor and the Slytherins had now turned their backs on Y/N. It didn't bother her; she had only ever hung around with her brother and Theo's friends.

"Please, it has nothing to do with Y/N." Ginny stated before taking a drink of pumpkin juice. "Theodore's a git and we all know it." She finished with a simple shoulder shrug.

Y/N opened her mouth to reply but closed her mouth when her attention was caught by her ex-boyfriend entering the dining hall. A black-haired Slytherin girl hanging on his arm. The Gryffindor girl quirked an eyebrow up in disbelief as the two sauntered their way to the Slytherin table and towards his ex's brother.

Y/N glanced over at her brother, only to lock eye with Mattheo who was wearing an indecipherable emotion. "Hey," Hermione spoke softly to get the girls attention away from Theo and the Slytherin table. "Let's get out of here." she offered as she went to stand up.

Y/N shook her head as she grabbed her arm and yanked her back in her seat, "If we leave, it will attract eyes and he will think he hurt me." The Nettleby girl explained as she turned her gaze back to her food.

"But he did..." Ron trailed off confused before Ginny kicked him under the table.

"I'm not giving him the satisfaction of knowing that."

Y/N had left breakfast with Hermione, Harry and Ron. They went back to the dormitories so they could grab their books and bags for class. The fact that Y/N had rushed her last couple homework assignments made her realize how much she depended on Theo. No matter what, she shouldn't let what Theo did affect her daily life. Yet, it affected her everyday she woke up.

"You're going to be okay." Y/N mumbled to herself before she followed Hermione to the first class of the day. It was the class that she had with Theo and a few others of the friend group. Hermione had sat beside Neville Longbottom after the Nettleby girl had begged her to switch with Theo. "Remind me to never tell you to switch with my boyfriends." The girl told Hermione before they walked into the class.

"I tried to tell you." Hermione mumbled before taking her seat beside Neville. The two of them talking about what they will be learning today.

Y/N rolled her eyes and made her way to her normal seat. She was hoping that Theo and his friends would skip class, like they sometimes did. Theo had tried to get her to skip as well but she refused, saying she cared about her grades. Getting her books out, she decided to read what they would be learning today to get an idea of what they would be doing.

A loud thud broke the Gryffindor girl out of her reading with a jump. "Fancy seeing you here." Y/N groaned at the voice that she had known all too well.

"Mattheo, to what do I owe the pleasure?" She asked sarcastically with a slight glare before going back to her book. She was unsure as to why the heir of Slytherin was sitting right next to her, or why he was even in class anyway. "Shouldn't you be out on the lawn, smoking during class?"

Mattheo raised an eyebrow with an amused grin growing on his face. "Keeping tabs on me, darling?" He teased as he sat down beside the girl that he had known since their first year. "If you wanted me instead of Theo you could've just asked."

Y/N rolled her eyes before glancing up at the boy that she was previously used to. There was a time when Y/N and Mattheo were friends, no one knows how close they were. Something had happened, and Mattheo turned a cold shoulder with no warning.

"Can I help you with something?" She snapped not feeling like dealing with the Slytherins and their attitudes today. "I am not playing into your games today, Riddle."

Mattheo's gaze softened a bit noticing the look on her face, before he quickly wiped it off and returned to his normal emotional state. "What's your plan?" The boy asked as he leaned over to his best friend's ex.

"What are you talking about?" She asked as she quickly jotted down notes about what she had read. Only the parts that she felt was really important.

Mattheo rolled his eyes, seeing right through the girl that he knew. "How are you getting back at Theo?" He asked again as he leaned a bit closer.

Y/N scoffed and shook her head, "how old am I? five." She spoke trying to play off her real emotions. The Riddle boy gave her a look before she sighed, "I had a few ideas." she shrugged finally giving in. "I don't want him back, so making him jealous is pointless." She whispered only for the Slytherin to hear. "I'm just going to move on." shrugged.

Mattheo scoffed, "That's it?" He asked. "How will that do anything."

Y/N rolled her eyes before putting all her attention towards the boy in front of her. She didn't know how trustworthy he was now, but she knows that he kept their old friendship a secret. Hopefully he would keep this conversation a secret. "Enzo has a soft spot for me, so I was going to ask him to be part of it." She shrugged. "it'll hurt worse with his friend involved." she added.

The professor has walked in talking to the class and went over a part of the chapter before giving the paired-up students a project to work on. "Don't you think it would hurt worse with his best friend?" Mattheo spoke up quietly, trying to see the girl's reaction.

"What are you getting at?" Y/N asked even though she felt as if she already knew what he was going to say.

"Use me instead of Enzo." He suggested which caused Y/N to laugh and shake her head a bit. "At least we used to be close." he whispered, acting like he wasn't paying attention to her reaction.

"What's in it for you?" She asked trying to decipher why he cared so much. Mattheo didn't catch feelings for people, yes, she had heard about him having one-night stands and girls he toyed with.

"let's just say," Mattheo spoke softly as he continued looking at the project before glancing back up at her. "I have my reasons." he finished.

🪄

"Absolutely not, are you out of your mind?" Hermione scolded as the golden trio, Y/N, and Ginny sat around the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. Y/N had just told them her plan and the conversation that she had with Mattheo during class. She knew it was a reach including them in on what she wanted to do, strictly because Mattheo's family. "This is worse than Theodore!" She insisted.

Y/N rolled her eyes slightly knowing that her friends would be against it. "You're forgetting the family that I come from." The girl muttered as she kept her gaze on the orange and yellows hues of the fire.

Hermione looked at the group around her, trying to get someone and anyone to agree with her. To Gryffindor's and the other houses, Mattheo Riddle was intimidating and charming. He came off as rude, cocky, and self-absorbed. Yet, Y/N knew that it wasn't who he was, or at least who he used to be.

"Do you honestly think Riddle is capable of helping you without something in return?" Ginny asked carefully as she glanced around the group.

Ron scoffed at his sister, "of course not. you know where he came from." the Weasley boy spoke in disgust.

Y/N sighed at that and ran a hand down her face. She knew all too well what people thought if they go by family trees. "And you guys know where I came from." she countered.

"That's different." Harry finally spoke up, thinking about the situation at hand. "The sorting hat knew what was right, so it's clear that you aren't like them."

"Says the one that was writing to Mattheo's dad, in his dad's journal with no thought about who he was." Y/N shot back. Tired of her friends being rude to someone they did not truly know. She didn't even know why she was defending him. She hadn't even properly talked to him since she had gotten with Theo, he had just passed a few snarky comments to her and went on his way.

The friends went quiet for a few minutes so they could try and sort out their feelings so nothing would be said. The last thing they wanted to do was to break up the friend group and all be fighting.

Y/N sighed, breaking the silence. "I'm sorry for being so worked up. I just know how my family is going to be once word reaches that Theodore and I broke up." She mumbled.

Coming from a family of Slytherins and death eaters, it was clear that his followers would do anything to get him back. Along with raise their kids to do dirty work and be one of them as well. Y/N was hoping that dating a Slytherin, especially from the Nott family, that her parents would get off her back about being a disappointment.

Hermione gave a small smile to her best friend, "I'm sorry." She apologized too. "It's none of my business what you do. I just don't want everything to fall apart."

"I can handle my own." Y/N promised as the group resumed back to their previous antics before the talk about the plan came about.

Early the next morning Y/N had gotten herself ready for the day. Many of the witches and wizards were going to Hogsmeade today, so she had decided to spend the day alone. She always went to Hogsmeade on weekends to spend time with her friends, but lately it had been almost like a third wheel, well, fifth wheel. So, when the time came, she had promised her friends that she did not want to go, and she had bid them goodbye after assuring them to have fun.

She had lounged around the common room, until she had gotten bored of doing the same things and decided to wander a bit. It was always a breath of fresh air when taking a walk around the castle and with most people gone, it could be quite relaxing. When walking about looking at the scenery, everything looked so peaceful and beautiful.

"We're going to get caught." a familiar voice had caught the attention of the Gryffindor girl. Her walking has slow and she came to a halt at the corner, carefully peaking her head around to see who was talking.

"Oh, please, since when do you care?" A nasally voice asked before going back to whatever she was trying to do. "You didn't complain when you cheated on your girlfriend with me in a classroom."

The man, who Y/N had now identified as Theo, scoffed. "A classroom is a bit more private than the hallways." He muttered.

Before Y/N could hear what, his new girlfriend was saying back, a voice caused the girl to jump. "Eavesdropping, love?" The voice of the Slytherin came out smooth. "Didn't anyone ever tell you how rude that is?"

Y/N rolled her eyes turning the face the curly haired boy. She had been wanting to find him since last night but had debated against it. "I simply came across them on my walk." she spoke truthfully as she turned to fully face Mattheo.

Mattheo's eyebrows shot up, "that's a bloody lie." he muttered loud enough for the girl to hear. She scoffed before rolling her eyes and leaning against the wall. "It won't last." Y/N's eyebrows furrowed at what he was talking about. "If Theo couldn't keep a relationship with you, he won't keep one."

"What do you mean by that?" Y/N asked as she eyed the boy in front of her curiously. Maybe Theo had not told the boys why they broke up because she was sure that they would make fun on her for it.

Mattheo shrugged keeping his lips in a tight line and scooting a bit closer to Y/N. "They're coming." he muttered. "Did you make up your mind?" He asked referring to what they had talked about in class.

"You." Was the only statement she could get out before he quickly placed a hand on her cheek as his best friend turned the corner.

Y/N and Mattheo's eyes quickly shot up to Theo's and the Slytherin girl that he had cheated with. Mattheo had faux annoyance, while Y/N looked nervous. Theo looked angry and his new toy had a surprised look on her face.

"Can I assist you with something?" Mattheo asked as the couple just stood there, not saying a word to the two. "I was busy, if you couldn't tell."

"When did this happen?" The Slytherin girl asked as if she knew exactly who both of the boys were and what they would or wouldn't do. "It's hard to believe that you would go for a Gryffindor." she added.

Mattheo rolled his eyes and took his hand off Y/N's cheek. He stayed close to her so he could ensure to play whatever part. "Just testing the waters." he shrugged before glancing at Theo and noticing his jaw clenched, a smirk grew noticing that.

"Y/N, can I have a word?" Theo asked as his gaze stayed locked in a war with Mattheo.

Y/N glanced between the two boys as she leaned forward and grabbed Mattheo's arm. To calm him down and also to say that she wasn't leaving without him. "I don't think that necessary." she replied back her hand moving down to Mattheo's. "We'll just get out of your way."

Without another glance she turned away from the couple and tugged Mattheo along with her. She didn't want to be around Theo or his toy.

Y/N let out a huff once they had lost sight of her ex-boyfriend, "Why does he have to be such an arse?" she mumbled with an eye roll. It was clear that Mattheo was watching her, maybe to see her reaction or to see if she had anything else to say. After getting her emotions under control she looked up and met her gaze with the boy in front of her, his warm eyes looking back in hers. "What are we doing? No one is going to believe that we started dating." she explained.

Mattheo thought for a moment, "Then we start spending time together, to make it known that we are around each other." He spoke trying to think of an idea that will make it seem real. "I'll meet you outside your common room every morning, we'll have meals together."

Y/N snorted at that before realizing that the boy in front of her was serious. "There is no way I am having breakfast or dinner at the Slytherin table." She refused.

"Do you want to make this believable or not?" Mattheo asked Y/N, trying to get her to see the reason behind then spending meals together.

She nodded, "fine. How about classes? I see that you replaced Theo as my partner in my classes. You guys barely come to class anyway." She explained as she had noticed how Theo had moved over to sit with someone else in class. "That's not even a concern right now though, how are we going to pull off dating? I mean, couples..." Y/N trailed off hoping that he was getting what she meant.

Couples showed plenty of public displays of affection. Especially when they have the biggest "bad boy" and "heartthrob" hanging on their arm. So, it was a given for the two. "Whatever you're comfortable with, love." he shrugged.

Y/N thought for a moment, her cheeks slightly turning red at the thought. Gaining a bit of confidence she spoke, "Everything." She told him. "Whatever you want."

Part three

[short666bread]

nighttime routine in an au where the marauder’s map has pinch zoom

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Sirius Black was the best adult in Harry's life and I'm forever salty that we didn't get to see more of him

So, I love Sirius Black. He's a complex and interesting character that I love dearly. He's handsome, smart, brave, not as reckless as some fanon make him out to be, and above all else, he tried his best to be a good godfather to Harry.

I truly believe Sirius could've been an amazing father figure (more than he already was) to Harry if given the proper chance. And he's a much better parent to Harry than Arthur and Molly Weasley.

Here are some quotes along with my ramblings to prove it.

So, what I'm going to cover here are some quotes from Sirius and Harry that show their dynamic and how much Sirius cared and tried to be there for Harry. Also, I think Molyl and Hermione are wrong about Sirius seeing Harry as a James replacement.

“He came back to the country just because my scar twinged. He’ll probably come bursting right into the castle if I tell him someone’s entered me in the Triwizard Tournament —”

(GoF, page 290)

Harry wrote to Sirius at the beginning of GoF about his dream with Voldemort and his scar's reaction to it. Sirius left everything immediately to return to Britain — a place where he is hunted down and is a wanted man. All because he wants to be close to Harry, so he can spring up to protect him if the need arises.

Harry is correct in his assessment here.

“Poor old Snuffles,” said Ron, breathing deeply. “He must really like you, Harry. . . . Imagine having to live off rats.”

(GoF, page 534)

Ron is absolutely right. Sirius loves Harry more than pretty much anything. He would and does go incredibly far for Harry. I don't think Molly and Hermione are right about how Sirius sees Harry as James. He just doesn't.

He doesn't treat Harry as an equal to him, but as someone he needs to protect. Someone he is responsible to protect.

He stays around Hogwarts, eating rats in GoF so he can better protect Harry. He wouldn't have done the same with James because he treated James as an equal, not as someone he needed to protect.

“It’s not my fault you haven’t been told what the Order’s doing,” said Sirius calmly. “That’s your parents’ decision. Harry, on the other hand —” “It’s not down to you to decide what’s good for Harry!” said Mrs. Weasley sharply. Her normally kindly face looked dangerous. “You haven’t forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?” “Which bit?” Sirius asked politely, but with an air as though readying himself for a fight. “The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know,” said Mrs. Weasley, placing a heavy emphasis on the last three words. Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George’s heads turned from Sirius to Mrs. Weasley as though following a tennis rally. Ginny was kneeling amid a pile of abandoned butterbeer corks, watching the conversation with her mouth slightly open. Lupin’s eyes were fixed on Sirius. “I don’t intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly,” said Sirius. “But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back” (again, there was a collective shudder around the table at the name), “he has more right than most to —” “He’s not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!” said Mrs. Weasley. “He’s only fifteen and —” “— and he’s dealt with as much as most in the Order,” said Sirius, “and more than some —” “No one’s denying what he’s done!” said Mrs. Weasley, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. “But he’s still —” “He’s not a child!” said Sirius impatiently. “He’s not an adult either!” said Mrs. Weasley, the color rising in her cheeks. “He’s not James, Sirius!” “I’m perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly,” said Sirius coldly. “I’m not sure you are!” said Mrs. Weasley. “Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it’s as though you think you’ve got your best friend back!” “What’s wrong with that?” said Harry. “What’s wrong, Harry, is that you are not your father, however much you might look like him!” said Mrs. Weasley, her eyes still boring into Sirius. “You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!” “Meaning I’m an irresponsible godfather?” demanded Sirius, his voice rising. “Meaning you’ve been known to act rashly, Sirius, which is why Dumbledore keeps reminding you to stay at home and —” “We’ll leave my instructions from Dumbledore out of this, if you please!” said Sirius loudly.

(OotP, page 88-89)

This above quote is a long one, but I love it. I mean, this shows a big contrast between Sirius' approach to parenting and Molly's. Sirius, while not seeing Harry as his equal, does see Harry as a capable wizard who deserves to know the full picture. Sirius knows Harry would be in more danger when ignorant and wants him as safe as possible. He thinks Harry deserves to know things that pertain to him, and I have to agree with him here. Keeping Harry in the dark is what eventually cost Sirius his life.

Molly, on the other hand, is intent on keeping Harry, Hermione, and her kids ignorant. She has the same intention as Sirius: to keep them safe. But she tries to keep them safe emotionally, even when this ignorance can and does place them in physical harm's way.

And Sirius is right. Harry is capable. And a 15-year-old shouldn't be treated the same as an 11-year-old child. And let's be real, Harry was never a regular child with how he grew up, and I think Sirius sees his maturity and treats him accordingly. Sirius actually gave Harry advice to not approach danger in GOF and Harry listened to him because Sirius treated him with respect, which works best with Harry who never really had parental figures.

“I don’t know,” said Sirius slowly, “I just don’t know . . . Karkaroff doesn’t strike me as the type who’d go back to Voldemort unless he knew Voldemort was powerful enough to protect him. But whoever put your name in that goblet did it for a reason, and I can’t help thinking the tournament would be a very good way to attack you and make it look like an accident.”

(GoF, page 334)

This is an expert from the Fireplace conversation Haryr had with Sirius before the first task. Sirius shares his theories with Harry because he needs him to know who to watch out for. Because everything he does is to keep Harry safe. And this is the same approach Sirius wishes he could take with Harry in OOTP. Because he knows it works. Keeping Harry informed means that if he does put himself in danger, at least he would inform Sirius about it; Which would allow Sirius to protect him.

I'm not copying all of them, but Sirius' letters to Harry throughout GOF are so caring and sweet. Harry deserved to have more of his godfather in his life:

Nice try, Harry. I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don't worry about me, just watch out for yourself. Don't forget what I said about your scar. Sirius

(Gof, page 240)

This treatment encourages Harry to actually share everything with him and ask him for advice. Something he doesn't do with Dumbledore ever. (Harry actually doesn't like or trust Dumbledore all that much until book 6, it's usually Hermione who trusts Dumbledore fully)

“Sirius — how’re you doing?” ... “Never mind me, how are you?” said Sirius seriously.

(GoF, page 331)

Sirius again, shows his responsibility towards Harry's well-being over his own (both here and in the above letter).

Sirius is the only adult who actually talks to Harry about the Dursleys with sympathy:

“But if they do expel me,” said Harry, quietly, “can I come back here and live with you?” Sirius smiled sadly. “We’ll see.” “I’d feel a lot better about the hearing if I knew I didn’t have to go back to the Dursleys,” Harry pressed him. “They must be bad if you prefer this place,” said Sirius gloomily.

(OotP, page 116)

We know Sirius would love nothing more than for Harry to stay with him. He's lonely and bored at Grimmauld and would love to have Harry there. But at the same time, he doesn't want Harry expelled from Hogwarts and is trying not to be hopeful for it.

Sirius understands the Dursleys are awful, he just know the full scope, but it's more of a reaction than we get from most adults in this series. To me, it looks like Sirius is annoyed by how limited he is in helping Harry. He can't really do much about the Dursleys or their status as Harry's guardians.

“So you want me to say I’m not going to take part in the defense group?” he muttered finally. “Me? Certainly not!” said Sirius, looking surprised. “I think it’s an excellent idea!” “You do?” said Harry, his heart lifting. “Of course I do!” said Sirius. “D’you think your father and I would’ve lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge?” “But — last term all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks —” “Last year all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry!” said Sirius impatiently. “This year we know that there’s someone outside Hogwarts who’d like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea!” “And if we do get expelled?” Hermione asked, a quizzical look on her face. “Hermione, this whole thing was your idea!” said Harry, staring at her. “I know it was. . . . I just wondered what Sirius thought,” she said, shrugging. “Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting safely in school without a clue,” said Sirius.

(OotP, page 371)

I love this scene as well. Sirius cares for Harry's safety first and foremost. Harry being safe is his top priority at every given point. And he's reasonable and logical and treats Harry like someone to protect, not like a friend.

Like, Harry when he has a problem and needs advice throughout books 4 and 5, he calls Sirius. He's Harry's go-to parental figure for advice, and Sirius takes his rule seriously. He gives the advice he honestly thinks is best and ensures Harry's safety and continued survival to the best of his ability.

“It matters because we don’t want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away!” said Sirius angrily. “Have you any idea what the Ministry would make of that information?” Fred and George looked as though they could not care less what the Ministry made of anything. Ron was still white-faced and silent. Ginny said, “Somebody else could have told us. . . . We could have heard it somewhere other than Harry. . . .”

(OotP, pages 476-477)

Again, Harry's safety is Sirius' first priority above everyone else. Harry's happiness and privacy also take precedence over most other things. He doesn't want Harry under even more scrutiny from the ministry and the Wizarding World and protecting him from that is just as important to him.

To me, it feels like people who say he treats Harry like a James replacement didn't read the books....

“It must have been the aftermath of the vision, that’s all,” said Sirius. “You were still thinking of the dream or whatever it was and —” “It wasn’t that,” said Harry, shaking his head. “It was like something rose up inside me, like there’s a snake inside me —” “You need to sleep,” said Sirius firmly. “You’re going to have breakfast and then go upstairs to bed, and then you can go and see Arthur after lunch with the others. You’re in shock, Harry; you’re blaming yourself for something you only witnessed, and it’s lucky you did witness it or Arthur might have died. Just stop worrying. . . .” He clapped Harry on the shoulder and left the pantry, leaving Harry standing alone in the dark.

(OotP, pages 480-481)

And I love this too. How he tries to comfort Harry and make everything easier for him. When the rest of the Order were gossiping about how dangerous his connection to Voldemort is, Sirius is honestly trying to get Harry to worry about it less.

He might be lying here, but he is right about sending Harry to sleep after a sleepless night like they had. And he is right about Harry being in shock and needing the rest. I just, really like how much Sirius cares. Harry just doesn't have other adults in his life who care for him like Sirius does.

But some part of him realized, even as he fought to break free from Lupin, that Sirius had never kept him waiting before. . . . Sirius had risked everything, always, to see Harry, to help him. . . . If Sirius was not reappearing out of that archway when Harry was yelling for him as though his life depended on it, the only possible explanation was that he could not come back. . . . That he really was . . .

(OotP, page 808)

This. Scene. Just kills me.

Like, Harry understands how much Sirius cares about him, and how Sirius always puts him first. He knows the only way Sirius won't drop everything to come and when Harry calls for him is if he can't.

Because Sirius escaped Azkaban when he realized Harry might be in danger from Peter, not for his own safety, but for Harry’s. Sirius dropped everything and moved to live in a cave and eat rats when Harry's scar hurt. He stuck around Hogwarts and Hogsmead during the Triwizard Tournament, when it was crawling with ministry officials because Harry might need him. He was willing to do so much for Harry. And Harry knew this.

I think, given time, they could've had an amazing dynamic, and I wish we had more of Sirius and his care for Harry. That we saw more of his approach to parenting Harry.

[fiendishfyre]

@casquecest Sirius with a cat. He’s a child and not allowed to adopt the poor stray cat.

[ifyouknowmenahyoudontt]

the marauders fandom is the PERFECT exemple of performative activism.

yall make such a strong point about sexuality thinking it’s doing something while completely erasing the characters personality.

i don’t CARE that regulus black is gay in your eyes what matters is that HE WAS A PUREBLOOD SUPREMACIST. you use sexuality as a shield in a way that’s so counterproductive.

the point of all of this was to make barely existent characters deeper and more complex but it went off to make everyone dumbed down stereotypical version of barely themselves.

we all hate jkr right? but some of you go around erasing the only political aspect of the books for the sake of your little fetishized gay twink story.

you think you are so different from the rest of hp fans because you make characters gay but you ignore the racial and gender stereotypes aspects of everything. as a woman and a NON WHITE woman hearing people talking about their favourite ships and characters is WILD.

all of you put such an importance on being respectful to peoples opinions but only when it comes to sexuality. the moment someone criticizes your love for canonically racist little assholes that did so much damage instead of deepening characters that ARE CANONICALLY WHAT YOU MAKE FANON INTO you freak out and call them names.

the fight for the LGBTQ+ community is not singular. it goes hand in hand with many other fights like for racial equality and gender equality.

before you comment “ LeT pEOplE liVe” or “ In My HeadCaNonS theYre nOT liKE THAT” i don’t care about the me.me.me speech

i care about what you make popular. what had taken over the fandom and what is being seen by the younger audience that you make seem as normal

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Harry wants it known that he’s at the ministry’s Yule gala under duress. It was all he could do to force himself into his dress robes and make himself presentable; he can’t fathom where he’ll find the energy he needs to get through the rest of the evening.

People he barely knows keep coming up to him – as they always do – to shake his hand, chat with him about this and that, thank him for his role in defeating the dark lord. (Still. He really wishes they’d stop doing that. It’s been more than six years now.)

And then there are pockets of people, staring at him and whispering behind their hands. Another constant in his public appearances, though he imagines the content of their conversations is at least a little different from usual, if not the tone. 

He’s just escaped another fan and is looking to make a beeline for the bar when it happens. Harry sees his doom approaching from several metres away but, since they saw him first and he (stupidly) refuses to run away, he stands there like an idiot, wishing he were anywhere else.

“Hi Harry,” Ginny says. It looks like she wants to hug him or get close, and his shoulders stiffen involuntarily. Thankfully, she stays where she is.

“Hullo Ginny,” he replies and, without looking at the man, utters a terse, “Malfoy.”

The smug arse smirks at him. “Potter.”

“How’ve you been?” Ginny asks, which. Rude. If she actually cared about that, she wouldn’t have cheated on him with the git on her arm, but whatever. 

“Oh, fine. Y’know, keeping busy.” God, he hates small talk.

Before he can respond with the requisite, ‘And you?’, Malfoy jumps in. “Yes, I suppose you have been, from what I’ve heard.”

Ugh. Fucking Malfoy. Harry wishes he had a drink or seven. He can’t believe he’d rather be caught in another conversation with that weirdo from earlier about his wand-care habits, of all things.

Ginny gently elbows Malfoy in the side with a chiding, “Draco.”

He’s considering the merits of letting himself be ripped apart by the anti-apparition wards to get away from this conversation – splinching himself can’t be much more painful than this – when a hand bearing a very welcome drink appears in front of him. That’ll do for now, though splinching is still on the table. Especially when he follows the hand to the arm up to the face and of course it’s Ri– Tom.

Harry gives him the side-eye, but accepts the drink. “Thanks.”

Tom leans in slightly, just enough so the two in front of them can’t read his lips. “You looked like you might be in need of a rescue.”

And as he pulls back out of Harry’s personal space, he rests a hand low on Harry’s back. Harry tenses for a moment before just accepting that tonight is all about him being as uncomfortable as possible. He takes a gulp of his drink – something dark and spicy. It burns pleasantly.

When he starts paying attention again, he finds Ginny looking at Tom with surprise; Malfoy is looking at the other man with – is that a hint of fear? And Tom is staring them both down, but somehow managing to do it with a veneer of politeness. 

“Good evening, Draco,” he says pleasantly. “Ginevra.”

“Riddle.” Malfoy’s greeting is stiff, as is the awkward, aborted bow he gives. Hmm.

“And Harry,” Tom says, turning to look at him fondly. “So good to see you again.”

Hoo boy.

“You,” Harry murmurs from behind the rim of his drink. “Are not subtle.”

Tom takes the opportunity to slide his hand further around Harry’s back, lightly gripping his hip and pulling him closer up against Tom’s side. He returns Harry’s withering look with an undaunted smile. “I wasn’t trying to be.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that.”

“When did you two get so cosy?” Ginny cuts in. Her tone is playful, but there’s more than offhand curiosity lurking beneath.

“Uh.” Shite, he doesn’t ever want Ginny to find out how this started, but especially not in public. Who knows who’s listening in or watching. “We ran into each other by chance a month and a half ago” –actually, he’s how I found out you were fucking Malfoy behind my back– “and we’ve met up a few times since then. It’s nice to have someone… uninvolved to talk to.”

Tom looks amused at that. He’s definitely involved in the demise of Harry’s relationship, and if there’s one thing they haven’t been doing (but probably should), it’s talking.

“I’ve been helping him expand his horizons,” Tom says without apparent innuendo, yet somehow the layered meaning is still obvious. Prat. “Getting him to try new things, keeping him busy.”

“You and half the town,” Malfoy mutters under his breath.

“I see…” Ginny says over him. “Funny how that escaped the rumour mill.” 

Harry laughs awkwardly, wishing for a stray lightning bolt to strike and put him out of his misery. “Must not’ve been exciting enough.”

The conversation dies for long enough to become uncomfortable - well, even more so. Malfoy touches Ginny’s elbow and leans down to speak into her ear. Harry seizes their distraction to turn on Tom.

“Are you sure you don’t want to piss on me to mark your territory while you’re at it?” he asks dryly.

Tom wrinkles his nose delicately in disgust. “No need to be crude. Though…” He gives Harry a considering once-over. “I’m not at all opposed to the idea of you carrying my mark. How do you feel about tattoos?”

Harry snorts. “Not a chance.”

The other man tucks his face in close to Harry’s, breath hot against the skin beneath his ear. “What about bruises?”

As though he doesn’t regularly leave an abundance of those on Harry anyway, what with his penchant for treating Harry like a chew toy. Harry shivers all the same, just a little bit. He can feel the barest brush of Tom’s grin against his neck.

Ginny clears her throat pointedly.

“Good to know,” Tom breathes as he pulls back.

Ginny continues trying to talk to him while Malfoy makes the odd snide comment, Tom attempts to meld into Harry’s side while replying for him and being subtly insulting, and Harry tries to become one with the floor. He realises he’s missed a question when he breaks out of his daze to find both Tom and Ginny are watching him expectantly.

“Huh?”

Ginny starts to say something when Tom cuts her off. "Care to dance?"

If looks could kill, Tom would be in a bad way with how Ginny’s glaring at him. "Harry doesn't dance," she says tetchily. Tom doesn't bother with her, waiting for Harry's wary nod.

He looks back at Ginny smugly. "Perhaps yet another new thing to which I can introduce him.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Harry says, grabbing Tom’s wrist and dragging him towards the dance floor. Best to get this over with, and all the better if it means he doesn’t have to speak with anyone else in the meantime.

"She's not wrong," he mutters once they don't have to fear being overheard. "I don't dance.”

"Just follow my lead," Tom replies easily. “Would it be correct to say you don’t particularly care about stepping on my toes?”

Harry stares at him blankly for a moment before he feels a reluctant smile appear on his face. “It might be the one redeeming part of this.”

“The only one?” Tom says archly, pulling him into the correct hold. And, without giving Harry a chance to breathe or think, they’re off in what Harry thinks might be a waltz. 

"That was quite the risk you took," Harry says, trying not to stare at his feet and hoping for the best as Tom spins him around the room. He is, oddly enough, a much better dancer when he’s not constantly concerned about crushing someone's foot.

"Was it?"

"Yes. What made you think I wouldn't refuse and let you look foolish?"

He catches sight of a pleased grin on Tom's face from the corner of his eye. "The same thing that made me ask you to dance when I've seen your previous forays. You rise to the occasion when I push you.” He looks at Harry, for a moment, proudly. “I also knew you’d be more than amenable to anything that got you away from those two.”

Harry can’t deny that.

“Now look sharp, and do try to keep up,” Tom says, the hand at Harry’s lower back gripping him a little tighter.

“Wha–?” 

And it’s all he can do not to trip over his feet and take them both down in a painful sprawl, but the rush, the heady triumph of making it through the successive, intricate turns, goes straight to his head. Before he can stop himself, Harry lets out a loud peal of laughter, further disrupting the couples around them and drawing sneers and disapproving glances. And he just doesn’t care. Not that he thinks he normally would’ve, but it feels like it’s been ages since he’s felt so light and happy. So, he doesn’t think about the people around him. He doesn’t think about how it’s Tom who’s making him feel this way. He just basks in the sun-warm feeling of contentment – of being okay for the first time in a while.

(One night)

[kenjus-benjus-jedi-wayseeker]

For recovering 'Wizards.'

EHWWHU WR VHOO BRXU VRXO WR ELOO WKDQ EH D WHUI ZKR QHYHU KDG RQH

[profoundmakerdreamerss-blog]

I hate, hate golden trio bashing fics. They have such a ride-and-die friendship like bro they raided a bank together then fled on a dragon they stuck together through so much — while having fights like normal friends do, but the best thing about them? They get back together. No matter what. Thus, coming out of a literal war in one piece, together; if that doesn't tell you how much they love each other then I don't know what to tell you.

[yrluvjane]

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝑰𝑰

[old money] James x fem!reader

《 Summary - James deals with feelings, and you fall ill after hearing the rumours spread about you of the day before, leaving you under his care.》

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

As James sat in his office, surrounded by a sea of paperwork and reports, all waiting for his signature, he couldn't help but think about you. Despite the relentless pressure of the approaching deadline, you kept popping up in his mind like a persistent siren, demanding his attention. 

There was something about you that James found intriguing, something that made him want to get to know you better, to understand what it was that made him feel this way. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something about you that kept drawing him in - a spark, perhaps, or a certain sparkle that shone through in everything you did.

Maybe James was hallucinating, maybe it was just the rays of the sun shining over you but even then, he had met many beautiful women throughout his life, but there was something about you that set you apart, a certain inner light that made you special and captivating. 

James had always felt like he was a passenger in his own life, watching the days and weeks and months go by with no real sense of purpose. He tried to go with the flow and make the best of what he had, but deep down he knew it wasn't enough. He longed for something deeper and more meaningful, but was too afraid to take the risk and step out of his comfort zone.

He was stuck in this limbo of uncertainty, unsure of what to do and who to be. The only thing he knew for sure was that he wanted something more, something different, something like you.

He remembered how your eyes shined in the afternoon sun, and the connection that he felt to you that he couldn't quite put his finger on. James' thoughts drifted off, lost in the memory of that day in the garden, feeling a twinge of regret for not pursuing things further. 

He wondered what could have been, if he had been braver and taken a chance on you and he couldn't help but smile to himself, imagining what could have been, but before he could fully indulge in his thoughts, he registered the clicking sound of heels approaching his door. With a groan of resignation, he prepared himself to entertain another one of Marge's ramblings. 

As the door opened, the noise of the crowded office poured in, threatening to disrupt the peace and quiet of his own space. With a deep sigh, he took a deep breath and listened.

“It’s your dad.” She says. 

"Hello?" He says, a big smile spreading across his face. "Dad!" He says, his voice overflowing with joy. "How are you?" He asks, his mind already racing with all the questions he has for his father. James listens intently as his father speaks, taking in every word and relishing in the sound of his voice. 

His father is always there for him, no matter what, and that feeling of connection and security is indescribable. Even now, when he is older and wiser, James can't help but feel grateful for his father's constant love and support, and he knows that he's lucky to have someone who has been such a guiding force in his life. 

And so James decides to share his moment with you with his father, feeling a sense of relief as he does so.

The moment his son is done talking, Fleamont turns to his wife, full knowing she will be very interested in what he’s about to say. “What is it, Fleamont? Is he alright?”

"I think James fancies someone." he whispers, looking at her in disbelief. Euphemia's expression immediately softens and she breaks into a joyful grin. This was the first time Fleamont had witnessed his son developing a romantic interest, and it was a sight to behold.

Yes, James has had intimate relationships with women before but even though James didn’t admit to feeling something for this girl. Fleamont knew better, he can’t recall a time in his life where James had described someone in such a picturesque way.

"She's like a sunrise on a cold winter morning - she just lights up the whole room. Though very direct and sharp, definitely not someone you'd want to go head to head with."

"Ever smelled Jasmines before? Bloody irresistible. It's like she's walking around with a bouquets of them,"

Euphemia, not one to be kept out of the loop when it comes to her son's love life, immediately grabbed her phone and began to pester Sirius for information. She was eager to know who this girl was and how long James had been keeping her a secret. She knew that James held a special place in his heart for Sirius, the raven-haired boy who had been a constant presence in his life and was a brother to him and a son to her. 

She was sure that if James were to confide in anyone about his romantic interests, it would be with Sirius. So you could imagine Euphemia’s surprise  when she found out that Sirius was just as clueless as she was. Who was this girl that had caught James' attention? She wondered.

However, on the other side, James was completely oblivious to the fact that his previous actions would have an impact on your life. He never considered the consequences of his gestures, which would rather sooner than later turn your world upside down, leaving you to get burned and pick up the pieces.

The next day, you tried to downplay the whole thing when your friends had asked about him. They had seen the flowers and had immediately assumed that something more was going on between you. You had spent the better hour of an afternoon denying they were nothing more than that, Flowers.

They grilled you for hours, probing for any “juicy” detail they could get, and you truly did your best to avoid the topic. They continued to pester you about the man who butted himself into your life and you couldn't help but feel a sense of irritation.

In the end, you were left feeling exhausted and vulnerable, as though your personal boundaries had been completely trampled on by the curiosity of your friends. Your feelings towards James were a complex web of emotions, neither good nor bad, neither right nor wrong. 

James was a charming and charismatic man, and so it was natural to feel a deep and intense attraction towards him, but at the same time, there was a sense of apprehension, a feeling of uncertainty that you couldn't quite shake. Your friends' incessant questioning only served to inflame that feeling of confusion and frustration.

And for some inexplicable reason, it felt as though James was a deeply private matter, and one that you, yourself, didn’t quite understand and would only be revealed on your own terms, when you were ready.

It felt as if they were pressuring you to make sense of something that wasn’t really there. So, you did the only thing you could think of - you changed the subject, or else found a way to distract them long enough for the topic to be forgotten. 

The day after, when you walk into the kitchen, ready to start your shift, you can feel the tension in the air. There's an awkward silence when you enter the kitchen. You keep catching your colleagues exchanging looks and whispering to each other, but no one seems to want to talk to you and dismissive when you try to start a conversation.

No one speaks to you.

They avoid your eyes and whisper to each other in hushed tones. You try to break the silence with a cheerful, "Hey, good morning," but no one responds.

All they do is mutter and shoot you dirty looks and it may be the dramatic side of your brain talking but it almost felt like the whole world was against you, and you don't know what you did. 

You move towards Tina, who was one the first people you met when you first started and as such you considered her a dear friend. She’s standing over the cutting board, busily preparing carrots.Her hair is pulled up in it’s usual tight bun.  "Hey,," you call out quietly, hoping to avoid the attention of others, "Do you have a minute?" She looks up at you, her eyes cold. 

"I’m busy." she replies, her tone sharper and more clipped than the pins used to keep her hair in place.. Your heart sinks, and you try to ignore the disappointment rising within you. Trying to keep your head down and do your work, but it's difficult to focus when everyone around you seems to be avoiding you like the plague.

It's like you're a ghost, invisible and repelling all forms of life.

You feel like you could scream. Why is everyone treating you like this? 

All you want is some answers, and it seems no one is willing to give them to you. Feeling desperate, you decide to approach a more level-headed colleague, Mary. You approach her and try to appear confident, even though you feel anything but. "Hey, Mary," you say, trying to sound casual. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Mary turns to look at you, her eyes lighting up with kindness. "Of course, what's up?" She sends a soft smile at you, warm and welcoming a contrast to how everyone has been to you.

“Is it me, or does everyone seem a bit..closed off?” You try. And subconsciously take a step back when you see Mary’s smile falter for a second. Her brows furrow and it takes little convincing to pass off the look she gives you as pity. She looks at the rest of the crew who all seem to be eyeing her from the corner of their eyes, sending her warning glares like pariah’s eyeing their lunch. And in a fight or flight manner, you snap towards everyone with a glare, daring them to say something. Most go back to focusing on their own work, the minority left have the courage to look back at you and meet your stare. 

“Need help with something?” You offer. If your voice was once a warm fire that encouraged laughs and jokes then now it was an icicle, just as cold, just as sharp.

Mary's expression softens as she sees the concern in your eyes, when you turn back to her. She takes a deep breath and tries to maintain a calm demeanor, even as her own worries begin to surface. "It's not just you," she says softly. "I think–" Her eyes seemed to lock on something and you watched her bite her lips. “Come with me.” She says, her eyes boring into yours as she sends a heated glare to someone behind you.

You notice the tension in Mary's expression and you start to feel a pit forming in your stomach. Her tone is crisp, and you can tell that she has something urgent to say. You take a deep breath as you follow her out through the corridor, away from the others. Her pace is quick, and you almost struggle to keep up with her as she marches ahead. "What's going on, Mary?" you ask, feeling a sense of unease washing over you.

“Yesterday, Mr. Potter gave you flowers.” She says and your eyes widen in shock. How did she know that?  You wondered, it was definitely not the answer you had expected when you walked out here and when your lips parted so you could voice your thoughts, she spoke again, answering your question as though she read your mind.

“There are words going around,” she explained. “Some are saying you and Mr. Potter are…” Mary paused for a moment, “having affairs..” Her eyes are watching you carefully, as if searching for a reaction.

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your composure, and you look at Mary with a mix of emotions written all over your face. "Having affairs?" you scoff, your voice barely above a whisper. Mary pauses, her eyes locked on yours. After what feels like an eternity, she finally speaks, her voice soft and almost whispery. "They say that he favors you in an...intimate perspective." Her eyes seem to bore into yours with that, as though she's trying to see into the depths of your soul.

 A strange fusion of guilt and fear wash over you. You can't even imagine what it would be like to be intimate with Mr. Potter, but the thought alone sends shivers down your spine. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and you hold her gaze, trying to be as calm and composed as possible.

"That’s bullshit," you say breathlessly, it almost comes out like a silent whisper, "Nothing happened. The flower pot he gave me was a leftover from the stock bought to decorate the pool."

You feel yourself getting more and more agitated as Mary continues to talk. You don't know why, but the idea that people are talking about you and Mr. Potter, saying that you're having affairs? Who says “having affairs”?! and even…you can't even bring yourself to finish her sentence in your head. If word gets out about this, that dream of getting fired might just come true.

At that you start getting dizzy, your heart is beating faster and faster, and you feel like you're about to pass out. Calm down. Take a deep breath. Everything is going to be okay. You tell yourself, trying to steady your shaking hands. In and out. In and out. You breathe in deeply, then let your breath out slowly, trying to calm yourself down. In and out. You don't even realize that you've started chanting those words to yourself, trying to ground yourself in the present moment.

"Mary, what are they saying?" you manage to say, your voice weak and hoarse. You know that they're talking about you, you can feel it. You can feel their eyes on you, their judgement weighing heavy on your shoulders. You’ve heard it once but you have to hear it again. It’s like your mind refuses to acknowledge this truth. You don’t want to believe this, you don’t even want to go anywhere near it, it’s like a nightmare. One you wish someone would wake you up from.

"What are they saying?" you repeat, this time a little louder, a little stronger. Mary squeezes your waist gently, as if to comfort you, and you hear her speak. "They're saying that you're having an affair with Mr. Potter," she says softly, as if it hurts even to say the words. 

So you heard it right.

You feel a cold chill run down your spine, and you're not sure if you can handle this. You're not sure if you can handle this. The shame, the embarrassment. W-what would your mother say if she heard about this? You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "It's not true," you say this time louder. "I-I mean -They're lying!"

“I know.” She says softly into your ear.

You try to steady yourself, but the world is spinning around you and you feel as if you're going to collapse. Your vision is blurred, and you can barely see anything in front of you. You struggle to take a deep breath, but you feel as if you're suffocating. Mary’s voice rings out in your ears. You feel her arms wrap around you to help keep you standing.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, everything goes black, and you lose consciousness.

You blink your eyes open, and you feel a sense of disorientation as you try to adjust to your situation.

You lie in silence for a moment, drinking in your surroundings. You notice the large and well-appointed room. It was a beautiful room, with ornate wood paneling and large windows that overlooked a beautiful landscape.

The sun was low and shining through the windows, casting a warm and inviting glow onto the room. The bed is made with crisp white sheets, and the AC hums quietly in the background, cooling the air to just the right temperature.

You take a deep breath, feeling your shoulders relax for the first time in ages. You start to wonder where you are, how you got here, and most importantly: who brought you here? You sit up slowly, letting your eyes adjust to the soft lighting in the room as your brain tries to catch up to what's going on.

You're brought back to reality by the feel of a hand on your shoulder, and you jump, startled. You turn to find Olivia, standing next to you, her face a mixture of concern and relief. "You're awake!" she exclaims, and you smile, feeling a sense of warmth settling over you. “What happened?” You asked, clutching your head to try and prevent the brewing headache threatening to occur.

"Are you alright? Do you remember anything?" Olivia's voice was soft, her voice calming. She squeezed your shoulder. "You're awake, which is good. You've been unconscious for a little while, you passed out. Mary caught you before you hit the ground and Anders told us to move you here." She spoke with a comforting tone, her hand rubbing your shoulder reassuringly. “I should probably go and call for him.” She said, 

You blinked owlishly as Olivia quickly excused herself, her pace brisk as she left to go and call the butler. Just as she closed the door behind her, you heard a knock on the door, and you looked up to see Anders enter the room.

“Hey, um...where am I?” You asked, getting up and lying back on a bunch of huddled up pillows. "You're in one of the guestrooms," Anders replied. "Mr. Potter asked to relocate you here after he heard of your fall. I must say, it was quite disturbing to see you like that."

You felt a sense of embarrassment at the thought of fainting in front of everyone, "Thank you for uhm-..helping me," you said."It's no problem. We're just glad to have you back. Are you feeling better now?" he asked, the concern clear in his voice and unintentionally reminding you that everyone is still talking behind your back and your little fainting spell would be like trying to dow out a forest fire with gasoline.

“Just tired.” You responded, laying a hand on your forehead and closing your heavy eyelids; hyper aware of how soft the sheets are and the warmth of the duvet draped over you; a sense of peace settling in.

You hear a soft knock on the door, and you groan and yawn as you roll over to your side, stretching like a cat as you rub the sleep from your eyes. You couldn't help but feel the usual sense of tiredness as you slowly started to rise; your body feeling sluggish and tired. You looked at the clock and realized that you had slept again and this time for hours and it was already the evening. “Come in!” You say, eyes trained on the ticking clock as you jolt up.

In walks Mr. Potter, tray in hand and look of concern etched on his face. His eyes softened with a sheepish smile, "I've brought you some tea and toast—not much, I know, but it hopefully will help you feel better." He sets the tray down on the small table by the bed, his manner warm and comforting.

"Take a bite. It might lift your spirit," Mr. Potter suggests, his deep voice carrying a tone of genuine concern. He hands you the steaming mug, his eyes locked on yours, awaiting your answer. You take the mug less out of politeness and more out of fear.

"How are you feeling? Are you okay? Do you need me to call a doctor?" 

Your words come out weak and hoarse, but you manage to get the message across. "No, I just... I feel dizzy, and my head hurts," you say, closing your eyes, hoping for the room to stop spinning.

He rushes to your side, helping you sit up, before gently stroking your hair back from your forehead, "Can I get you anything? Some water, maybe?" You can't help but feel a warmth spread through your chest as his hand brushes the hair away from your face. His cologne is strong and masculine, filling your nostrils with an addictive and sophisticated aroma.

Oh my God, stop it! You chastise yourself.

You sit up a bit, taking a sip of the tea and nibbling on the toast. The toast is warm and buttery, and the tea is soothing and calm. The warm brew soothes your throat and warms your insides, bringing a sense of calmness that you desperately need. 

James smiles back, "I'm glad to hear that. Would you like anything else? Some fruit maybe, or some more tea? I just want to make sure you're comfortable." 

"I’m good," you say, smiling awkwardly. "Thank you."

"Are you sure everything is alright, darling?" he asked, his eyes locked on yours. You felt your heart skip a beat at the nickname and of what he was going to ask. "Sure, of course," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. 

He raises a brow, unconvinced with your answer.

"Just some work-related stress." 

James's gaze was focused on you, his face a picture of concern. "Well, if you ever do need anything, I'm here for you," he assured you, his voice soft and comforting. 

“Thank you, Mr–”

“James...please. Call me James.”

"Thanks, James," you replied, a small smile crossing your face. "That ...means a lot." James smiled back, "Of course," he said. The sound of the ticking clock abruptly shattered the stillness of the room, causing you to gasp as you suddenly remembered the passing of time. "Shoot!" you exclaimed, frantically throwing the quilt aside and hastily placing the tea on the nearby tray. "I've got to go!" you added, your voice laced with urgency.

James stood up, bewildered by the sudden change in your behavior. “Why? Is something wrong?” he asked, worry clearly etched on his face. “It’s eleven! Why didn’t you wake me?” you exclaimed, eyes wide with shock as you began frantically running around the room. Scrambling to find your shoes, James watched with wide-eyed confusion, asking, “What’s going on? I’m so lost.”

"It's eleven! Everything is probably already closed now!" you said, desperation and panic evident in your voice as you searched for your shoes. Suddenly, you noticed that James was holding them, and you immediately let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank you so much." you said, taking them from him.

"Is Anders still here?" You asked as you hurriedly put your shoes on. The sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears, drowning out the sound of James taking a nervous step forward. “Uhm no, he usually leaves at ten,” James replied, his voice barely above a whisper. You sigh in defeat and throw yourself back on the bed. “Can I ask why?” he continued, taking another step closer, his eyes searching your face as you covered it with your hands. “I was going to ask him if he could give me a ride,” you answered, your voice muffled.

"I told Anders you could stay for the night." James stated, a slight edge to his voice as he backed up a step. You bolted upright, eyes widened in horror. "No!" you cried, your words tumbling out in a panicked rush. "No, no, no, no! I can't stay here. The others, they..." Your words trailed off, the image of their judgmental frowns dancing behind your closed eyelids, threatening to send you spiraling into a coma before you could even finish the thought.

Despite your protests, James stood firm, "You're staying here," he insisted, his tone brooking no argument. Taken aback by the suddenness of the force of his tone, you froze, your mind racing as you tried to guess at his intentions.

With a heavy sigh, James continued, his voice softer now as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Look, I understand that this isn't ideal. But I promise you, you're safe here.”

"I- I’m fine," you stutter out, your voice barely louder than a whisper at his words, at the sweetness of it at the concern stretched between his eyebrows. James' brows furrow in discontent as he takes in your words, and for a moment there is a tense silence between you. But he quickly recovers, and his expression becomes determined.

"Then at least let me drive you home."

You are struck dumb by these words, and you don't move for a moment as you try to process what is happening. But before you have a chance to respond, you have given James your arm and you watch as he leads you rapidly towards the door. He's not waiting for an answer, he's making a decision for both of you.

And less than five minutes later, you find yourself standing outside, feeling the cold air brush against your skin. The night is quiet, truly silent. You can’t even hear the sound of traffic with how far you are from the town. You look up at the sky and at the stars, how they’re sprinkled like splattered paint over a black canvas. The sound of an engine in the distance breaks your trance and you look down squinting your eyes at the bright light shining from the car’s headlights.

The sleek black car glides into the driveway, its exhaust leaving a faint smell of fuel in the air. You watch as James climbs out of the driver's seat and walks up to you. He has his hands placed under both your arms, steadying you as though he was afraid you would roll down the stairs without his support. You mentally scoff, you maybe a klutz but even you won’t embarrass yourself to that degree.

He walks you to the passenger side of the car and opens the door for you. Your gaze is pulled back to the car itself, and you can't help but marvel at its beauty - probably at the cost of your entire apartment building itself. James seems to notice your fascination, and he gives you a small smile.

“It’s cold.” He whispers and you snort as you bow your head, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you as you enter the car and close the door behind you. The car's interior is warm and comfortable, and you sink into the soft leather seats with a sigh of relief. James enters, sending you the most adorable welcoming of smiles, as he pulls away from the extravagant driveway. You watch the streetlights fly by through the window, getting a sense of disorientation as the world around you blurs.

"Are you ok?" James asks, breaking the silence. His voice is low and concerned, and you can hear the worry in his words. You ask that alot you want to say but opt for a nod instead, not trusting yourself to speak, and he reaches across the car to pat your leg reassuringly, giving you a gentle squeeze. It's a small gesture, but it makes you feel a little better. You sit in silence as James drives, the only noise coming from the hum of the engine and the occasional click of the turn signal. 

The tension between you is palpable, and you wonder what James is thinking. Is he as nervous as you are? Is he trying to work out what to say to you?

James seems to sense your unease, and he breaks the silence with a sudden question. "So... What really happened today?" he asks, his voice low and curious. STOP asking! You want to yell, but you can’t really do that when the man is driving you home. You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts.

"I don't know," you reply, your voice wavered. "I found out about something and I just…" James nods at your silence, as if he understands. "I can understand that," he says, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Sometimes life can be a little overwhelming, can't it?" 

You watch him through the reflection on the window and nod, feeling a sense of thankfulness towards him for not pushing. "Yes, it can be. Sometimes it feels like everything is just a little too much."

"I know what you mean," James says softly. "But you need to remember you're not alone. That there’s someone there, y’know. And if you ever feel overwhelmed you can come to me." You pull your head away from the window and face James with parted lips. His eyes seemed to be just as shocked as you are as he stared at you. He quickly faces the road once more and pulls in a deep breath. 

“Thank you.” You say into the silence. It's a small comfort, but in that moment, it means the world to you.

Half an hour later, you find yourself pointing towards a building in the distance. The street is quiet and lifeless, with only a few distant lights to break the darkness as James parks the car in front of the tall building. You're not sure what to say, how to express the feelings that are swirling inside you. 

"Come on," he says, "Let's get you inside." You want to object but the warmth from the touch of his hands is addicting. It has you leaning on him as he leads you towards the building. “Do you want me to help you up?” He asks and you stare at him with furrowed brows, parted lips and eyes heavy with sleep. You nod and James doesn’t even hesitate to have his arms wrapped around you as he helps you up each step, patient and alert as he guides you up the stairs and carries your weight.

However, he seems awkward now that you're outside the door to your apartment, it’s silent, and there’s no other sound than the rattling of your keys as you turn them and unlock the lock. “Wait here.” You say, and James blinks for a moment in confusion, tilting his head to the side before nodding, watching as you walk in and leave him outside. He’s nervous and sweaty, and he reeks of anxiety as he bounces his leg, rehearsing what he’s trying to say. When your door opens once more, you’re in a robe and holding a small transparent box of what looks like doughnuts.

“A thank you.” You say and James involuntarily smiles at the gift, shaking his head. “Can’t take it,”

“Why not?” You ask and there is a dopey smile on your face as you lean against the door frame. “Don’t deserve it.” He says and you snort, rolling your eyes and you push the box between his hands. “If you don’t take it, you’re practically insulting me and I don't think you can be mean to someone who was sick.”

“You passed out, out of stress and not illness.” He says grinning and you feel butterflies fluttering or biting in your stomach as he leans a hand on the door, so that his face is much closer to yours. “Same thing. Take the doughnuts, Potter, and say ‘thank you’. It’s not that hard.” You respond, taking a step closer and matching his smile. 

James takes your hand and places a gentle kiss on the back of it, “Thank you.” He says and you immediately feel all hot and fluttery. It’s like you're wearing hundreds of layers of clothes on the hottest day of the year.

“You’re welcome.” You breathe out and even though the conversation is over, you both still stand there like birds on a traffic stop waiting for the other to say or do something.

For a moment, the silence is awkward, and you're not sure of what action to take. But then, James breaks it.

His voice is low and somewhat unsure, his previous confidence as solid as water as he stands tall once more; but he still speaks clearly and directly. You subconsciously stand straight as well, feeling as though this conversation was going to be serious.

"... I've been thinking about you a lot lately. I don't know why, but for some reason, I just am"

You listen intently, trying to process what he's saying. He leans down, placing the treats you gave him gently on the ground and You have no idea what's coming next, but then he surprises you by taking your hand in his. Your eyes grow wide and you can’t help but feel dumb and speechless as you stare at your joined hands. James looks at you, his expression serious and determined but there is a nervousness hiding behind his glasses. He takes a deep breath and then asks, "Would you go out with me?...On a date that is."

You're taken aback by the suddenness of the question, but you find yourself nodding slowly. "I'd like that." You can see the relief and happiness spread across James' face, and he gives you a warm smile. "I was hoping you'd say yes. You’re off on Tuesday’s, right? Can I pick you up from here at 6?" He asks and you nod again, feeling a sense of warmth and giddiness spread throughout your body. “That sounds great.” 

As James takes another step towards you, you start to feel a mixture of excitement and unease. You want to be close to him, you do, you really do, but you also feel like you're on the edge of a cliff, like one wrong move could send everything tumbling down. The looks of your colleagues flash in front of you, and you involuntarily take a step back.

James senses your apprehension, and he stops in his tracks. He looks at you with a mixture of concern and understanding, as if he knows exactly what you're feeling.

"Is something wrong?" he asks gently.

You try to gather your thoughts. "I don't know," you say, your voice a screen to your worries. "I just feel... I don't know. Like this is all too much and…too fast, like I may not be ready for this type of thing." You're suddenly aware of your rushed agreement to his proposal, and the butterflies that were once in your stomach turn to poisonous snakes.

James nods, "That's ok," he says quietly. "We don't have to rush into anything. We can take it slow, if that's what you want."

For a moment, there is silence between the two of you, filled with a mixture of uncertainty and possibility. And then, before you know it, James is closing the distance between you once again, his fingers brushing against yours, his face just inches away from yours. You think that he might kiss you and you're not sure of what you’re feeling but you’re sure of the desire, the craving for his touch but at the same time the logical part of you is yelling for you to pull away to warn you that this was going to burn you in the end.

It's a moment that feels like an eternity and a heartbeat all at once, and just when you think you can't possibly bear it any longer, James leans in and kisses your forehead. It's a soft, gentle kiss, filled with a mixture of hesitance and care, and for a moment, the stress you’ve been carrying the whole day seems to melt away.

As he draws apart, you feel a sense of relief and happiness wash over you, like drinking chilled water after you've just finished a marathon. 

“Feel better, okay?”

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