#dumbledore's army and the year of darkness | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

emeritusemeritus · 9 months ago

Text

You think you know someone. [Fred Weasley x Reader]

Title: You think you know someone.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Timeline: OOTP- canon and timelines altered for purposes of the story. Some bits have been exaggerated for artistic purposes. Based more on the films than the books. Reader joins DA but what if instead of Cho ratting them out, it’s you?

Summary: You had everything during your time at Hogwarts- good friends, Fred Weasley as your boyfriend and a promising future, until Dolores Umbridge turns up.

Warnings: This one turned out a little dark. Mentions of injury, torture, bullying, wounds, blood. Umbridge is a bitch. Snape is a bully. Use of unforgivable curses. Punishment. Kissing, pranks, swearing. Dumbledore’s Army and resistant forces. Brief mentions of Voldemort and probable war. Pet names: baby, sweetheart, princess. Not beta read. Happy ending I promise.

Word count: 9.3k (I feel like I’ve written a novel here)

This work is gifted to @kellyxo1 thanks to the wonderful request that I couldn’t turn down! I’m sorry it’s taken me a while to get this out but it’s been a complete labour of love and I hope you like it!💕

You knew Dolores Umbridge was trouble the moment you spotted her in the Great Hall, her gaudy pink outfit and matching pink cheeks made her stick out like a sore thumb amongst the classic, muted colour pallet you knew to be Hogwarts. Her smile unnerved you, the cold expression in her eyes never once matching the infallible twisted, sadistic smile that so often painted her face. Everything about her rang alarm bells in your mind.

Fred and George had been sitting either side of you at the banquet table in the Great Hall as she took centre stage and delivered her speech about being very good friends, as ominous and foreboding as it seemed.

"That's likely," the twins had mumbled, resting their heads on their hands, elbows on the table as a small act of rebellion against the airs and graces she clearly put on. You'd subconsciously scooted closer to Fred when she stood, reaching for his spare hand under the table that he'd offered you, sensing a little of your discomfort. Fred was always acutely aware of your emotions, able to read you like a book, you supposed it was a natural consequence of being together for so long.

You'd met on the first day of Hogwarts when you'd stepped into the train compartment he shared with George, locked eyes and the rest was history. You'd been dating since your second year, both of you unable to deny the childlike crushes and stolen glances of your attraction and as you grew up, you grew together. Now you were in your last year, with big plans ahead of Fred and George's business which you'd planned to help them with initially and bigger promises of moving in together in the flat above the shop. The natural progression of a happy relationship and an exciting prospect that kept you motivated to finish school on a high.

The atmosphere at Hogwarts was different this year: understandably tense and foreboding, not just because of Cedric's death and the rumoured return of Voldemort but of the disquiet around Harry's claims and the propagandistic reporting from the Daily Prophet refuting Harry's claims. It seemed everyone was divided into wether they believed Harry or if they believed what they were reading in the media. It was evident that the ministry had worked hard to deny and deflect Harry'a claims, disparaging and slandering him publicly. Of course the arrival of a certain Pink adorned dementor didn't help things, especially when she, as new defense against the dark arts teacher, did away with the old curriculum and removed any defensive, practical teaching in favour of simple theory- which would be of no use in real life situations, of which you were all undoubtedly facing. Then the educational decrees began where she was appointed Hogwarts' high inquisitor and sought to change anything she was as unsatisfactory, backed by the ministry, which seemed to propel the whole school further and further away from what it should be teaching and how it should be preparing it's students for what was inevitably happening.

"She can't do this! It's ridiculous, George is fuming, never mind Fred," you overheard Ginny say as you were about to take a seat for dinner but quickly stopped as you gave her a questioning look, not knowing what she meant, her eyes focusing in on your frozen form.

"What?"

"You haven't seen the new decree?" She asks curiously, placing down her fork onto the plate. You shook your head briefly before walking quickly out of the hall, dinner be damned to examine the wall of decrees, trying to fix your eyes onto the new plaque on the wall.

Educational Decree No. 30: All Weasley products will be banned immediately.

You rushed upstairs to the common room, split in two minds about wether they would be there or on the quidditch pitch, trying to expel their frustrations... until you remembered that broom flying had been outlawed unless part of a lesson or during Quidditch games, as few and far between as they were coming due to the constant cancelling.

When you found them in their dorm, George was pacing the room, kicking the wooden frame of his bed after every circuit whilst Fred sat perched on his own bed, face downcast and eyes filled with anger.

You knew it wouldn't stop them, nothing ever did, but the business they forged from nothing had suffered for a while as students were afraid of the repercussions of being searched and found with their products.

"Can't sell my products, can't fly a broom, can't even kiss my own girlfriend unless I find a way to snog her from six inches away!" Fred had been furious and rightly so but there seemed to be no hope in sight.

It seemed no one was unaffected by the drastic measures Umbridge was taking and you were all facing the consequences of the increasing restrictions, in multiple ways. You'd been given detention for the stupidest things, including casting a spell to undo the jinx Malfoy had placed on Neville one afternoon, another leg lock jinx that you'd fixed for him, received another for the muggle book in your possessions and another for deigning to be within six inches of George. The punishment was cruel and twisted but you'd hidden it from Fred, knowing how protective he was and how he'd act out to retaliate against her which would only land him in worse trouble. She seemed to focus on you in particular, for whatever reason you weren't sure but she hardly hid her distaste for you publicly. Fred said it was because of your connection to him and George but you weren't sure, it seemed more personal than that.

It had been Hermione's brilliant idea to forge a sort of rebellion in order to actually learn the practical side of defence and you'd been eager to sign up after attending the first meeting at the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade, knowing that you had to arm yourself in whatever way you could, the feeling of unease at the current climate always looming overhead. You'd been pleasantly surprised by the turn out, seeing many familiar faces as you'd walked hand in hand with Fred into the small, freezing cold room as you waited for Harry, Ron and Hermione. Cho, Luna, Neville, Ginny, Michael and so many others from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had turned out to fight for the cause and as you looked around the room of friends and familiars, it was evident that this could work.

You'd signed the parchment Hermione had brought with no hesitation, lining up between Fred and Ginny, clearly marking your name under his in the pencil provided. As you walked back to the castle in a group, Fred's arm around you and his hat in your head to keep the cold away from your ears, you felt determined and inspired to make this work. You'd just need to find somewhere to practice away from the prying eyes of the inquisitor.

Then came Educational Decree No.68: All student organisations are henceforth be disbanded. Any student in noncompliance will be expelled.

This time, you weren't angered or afraid of the newly instated restriction but instead felt empowered to rebel. Neville, in a feat of brilliance, had discovered the room of requirement one Saturday afternoon as he made his way down the seventh floor corridor. It was perfect, exactly what was needed, and you'd all wasted no time in putting the room to good use.

Within just two weeks, you'd mastered disarming spells, stunning spells, hexes, jinxes and defensive charms that you'd never thought you could do. Ginny had proven herself to be incredibly skilled and you'd stood watching in amazement as two magpies flying around the room, both coming from your boyfriend and his twin. The twins had taken to placing bets, mostly against Ron, all of you in good spirits about finally being able to do magic again. You and Fred took full advantage of being shielded away from the eyes of Hogwarts and had taken to lingering in the room after the sessions so you could be close to each other, to kiss freely and be intimate again. It had seemed so long, so cruel to have to keep away from him, at least in public and as you watched him master spells so effortlessly and looking so deliciously hot as he did it, often with messy hair and rolled up sleeves, it was exactly what you needed to relieve yourself of the building frustrations.

Fun and laughter had once again returned to Hogwarts, though shielded from the regulating eyes, it was just like before. The twins had even taken to pranking again, no longer concerned by the changes, including giving Filch laced chocolates which made him erupt with giant, puss-filled boils on his face when he got too close to the scent of your secret gatherings.

Educational decree No. 82: All students will submit to questioning about suspected illicit activities.

Umbridge had began to gather students for an inquisitorial squad which would earn them credit for joining, most notably the Slytherin students that weaselled their way into Umbridge's good books. Most probably by being pure bloods. They took great pleasure in pulling up the younger students in particular for punishment or questioning and abused their powers frequently.

Then you returned to school after winter break and the news of the Azkaban breakout happened, constant storms were forecasted, Umbridge's cruel regime heightened. Everything felt so restrictive, so unnecessary, so twisted. The only place you found solace was during DA meetings when you could be yourself, free to act and perform as you wanted surrounded by your friends and boyfriend. Always alert at the imposing threat, knowing Filch was on to you all and the rest of the inquisitorial squad which only fuelled you to keep discreet.

It had been a regular day of classes until your DADA lesson where you'd been required by the toad to write an essay on the benefits of conversational reasoning as opposed to practical magic to handle disputes with half breeds and lower class species, such as centaurs. You'd almost immediately refused to write such things, particularly due to the disgusting terms used to class different species but also due to the ridiculous concept.

"I am teaching you verified way of effective communication, in which you do not have to use your wand," she defends with a sickeningly fake smirk.

"Or our brains by taking away our autonomy," you'd argued, not even under your breath.

"Are you questioning my methods of teaching miss y/l/n? By all means if you think you can do better I should like to see you try."

"Can't be hard, Professor Quirrel did a better job and he shared a head and a singular brain cell with Voldemort."

A murmur of concealed laughter burst from the students around you and for a singular moment you felt the victory of it, empowered even.

"Detention!" She's utterly outraged, her face turning a dangerous shade of fuchsia. You could feel the eyes on you, most notably your boyfriend and his twin from across the room but you didn't care. Since returning to school you'd been torn away from Fred, unable to be anywhere near each other and certainly not in a group with your friends as it would break at least three decrees. You were frustrated and had hit breaking point, anger simmering in you but why you didn't know. You'd completely had enough.

"It's a date Dolores," you said sarcastically with the sickliest smile you could muster. More snickers erupted around you and even a clap that sounded suspiciously like it came from the direction of your future brother in law.

"My office, now!" She screams, pointing with her pink tipped finger towards the door. You grabbed your stuff from the desk and walked out without a single look in anyone's direction. On your way to her office, you pulled the special coin from your pocket and checked over the date and time to check you had it right. There was a DA meeting later that evening and you'd hoped this would be over quickly so that you could still attend.

Only, that never happened. Instead you'd been tortured for hours in the cruelest of ways, repeatedly questioned over your involvement with the alleged group and had been forced to drink truth serum until the words had slipped out of your mouth. You'd had no control over it, no way of resisting any longer and with great shame, you'd told her about the room of requirement, completely unable to stop the words from coming out.

The inquisitorial squad was on you in mere moments, as soon as Umbridge had signalled them from outside the door and Malfoy's grubby hands were pulling your weak and exhausted body from the chair before you could even register the intrusion. The things you'd been through, the pain and the anguish, it was nothing compared to the fear you felt at the DA being discovered; you could only pray that you'd held out long enough so that the meeting was over.

"Where is it?!" Umbridge screamed into your face when you wouldn't disclose the exact location of the room of requirement, having already inadvertently let slip that the room was your meeting place. You gave her your darkest look, no longer feeling controlled by whatever she had obviously put in your tea. When she didn't get an answer, her hand struck you hard right across the cheek but you hardly flinched, hardly feeling the pain anymore.

"I know the way Ma'am," Filch said, his saggy face appearing around the corner creepily, his features twisting into a vulgar, perverse smile. You could hardly look at Umbridge's face as it twisted into a pleased, twisted grin as she fixed her jacket and allowed Filch to lead her. Malfoy grabbed hold of your robes tighter in his fist and you were dragged along with them until you reached the seventh floor.

You felt sick to your stomach, wanting to scream and cry, resist in anyway you could as you fought against Malfoy's hold but you were physically tired and weak. Crabbe had grabbed hold of the other side of you, your thrashing too much for Malfoy to hold down by himself and his hands were much tougher against your skin, no doubt leaving bruises in their wake. When the door to the room of requirement didn't appear, you felt hopeful that she'd realise you were lying, even if that meant horrendous consequences for you. There was no way of warning them, nothing you could do to allow them to flee, you'd have to watch as they were all caught redhanded. They'd think you ratted them out, your friends, the love of your life. You knew it was exactly what Umbridge wanted, to turn everyone against you- and she was undoubtedly going to get it.

"Bombarda Maxima," her eerily calm and squeaky voice rang out as she pointed her want at the wall. Your scream mixed in with the large bang as a giant hole was created in the wall, depris and dust flying everywhere.

When the dust cloud cleared, you were dragged off from the side viciously by Malfoy and Crabbe until you were presented in front of the Army- your friends. You didn't want to look up from your spot on the floor, still fighting against their holds on you but something made you look up. And then you met his eyes.

Fred had never looked at you that way, ever. The looks of love and adoration you'd become accustomed to over the years, the playfulness and the intimate looks, it was all gone. The look in his eyes would haunt you forever, the coldness, betrayal and the resentment and it was explicitly clear what his expression told you.

He believed that you ratted them out, believed that you could ever do that to him, to them all.

You had to look away, desperate to see any hope that someone believed you, that someone sympathised with the torment you'd endured but as your eyes travelled across to George, you stopped short. He looked furious with you, disgusted and despite everything you'd been through in the past few hours, you'd receive no sympathy or chance to explain yourself to the people you loved.

You were dragged away as Umbridge dealt with the Army, bestowing threats and punishments upon them that you couldn't hear. You no longer fought against the holds of the Slytherins but instead went willingly, feeling guilty, shame and simply dirty for your role in all of this, even if it wasn't your fault.

Members of the ministry arrived not too long after, having been alerted prior to the discovery of the DA. You couldn't look at Kingsley, much too distraught to see his look of disgust at you, no doubt planning to tell the Order what you'd done. Harry was ushered in not long after having been caught in the skirmish. His newfound hatred of you seemed to radiate off him as he stood beside you and this alone made you want to scream and cry out of frustration, tears welling in your eyes that you wouldn't allow to spill.

The final straw was when Percy walked in, without so much as a glimmer of recognition towards you and took over from Malfoy to restrain you and Harry, keeping the shoulder of your robe balled up in his hand. The minister ordered him to dispatch an owl to the Daily Prophet and he diligently nodded, trying to manoeuvre you along with him.

"Get off me Weatherby," you demanded viciously, fighting against his hold and managing to break free, only to be stopped as you all looked on in amazement as Dumbledore disappeared out of sight in a magnificent display.

You'd hoped after that, you'd be able to get Harry alone, to explain yourself to him, to tell him what had happened but he'd completely avoided you, blanked you entirely. You hardly blamed him but you needed to explain, to clear your name. Umbridge then commanded Harry to join her in the hall where the punishment was being conducted, all of the DA together.

You'd been permitted to return to your dorm after the meeting had finished but you stood outside of the hall doors, desperate to see Fred and explain yourself, hoping he could bring you at least an ounce of comfort. Your head was pounding from the pain earlier and the marks on your arms were throbbing, sore and weeping though you fought not to look at them, knowing the pain would only be worse when you saw what was tormenting you. You couldn't go to Madame pomfrey, Umbridge had made that very clear and so you suffered in complete silence until you could reach out for your friends.

You lingered outside of the door for what felt like hours, the anxiety and the nerves you felt seemingly freezing time. When the doors opened, the members of the DA began pouring out with soured looks on their faces which only heightened when they caught sight of you. It was never hard to spot Fred and George amongst a crowd, their towering height easily distinguishable amongst a sea of people.

The look on everyone's face was near identical, the disgust and the resentment evident in their eyes as they spotted you but none clearer than the twins. George looked like he detested you, his face scrunched into a look of utter distaste, eyes glaring into you as he walked past without a care. Fred looked away, ignoring your presence completely as he glided past you without muttering a single word, his face stone cold and void of expression.

"Freddie, please," you said weakly and emotionally, with tears in your eyes, turning around in the spot as he walked past you. But nothing, he didn't turn, didn't react, simply walked away without so much as a single glance.

"Harry," you implored, taking a step towards him but he too blanked you again, pushing past you and walking quickly up the steps to avoid you.

You stood alone in the cold and empty corridor, feeling more isolated and alone than you ever had and finally allowed yourself to cry. Silent tears fell down your cheeks, shoulders sagging as you cried for everything you had undoubtedly lost, for the treatment you'd received and for the pain you still felt in your head and arms. Finding a spot in a hidden corner, you finally allowed yourself to pull up the sleeve of your robe and look upon the damage that Umbridge had inflicted with her sadistic quill. It was horrendous, an onslaught of slurs and vicious words etched into your body, no doubt intentionally done to leave the scars as a permanent reminder.

You sobbed your heart out in that little nook between two cold, stone pillars as you tried desperately to heal the marks but no spell was strong enough even to numb it in your weakened state.

You eventually made your way to Gryffindor tower, stepping through the portrait and finding the common room practically deserted. You sighed and walked up the stone steps to your dorm, only to find that the door had been shut and your blanket and pillow had been thrown outside of it, a clear sign you were not welcome even within your own dorm. You were painfully exhausted and wanted nothing more than to curl up in your bed and cry into your pillow until you eventually passed out. But you didn't even deserve that.

With a heavy sigh, you collected your blanket and pillow and trudged down the steps back towards the common room, eyes blurry through a mixture of tiredness and tears. You stopped short the second you crossed the last step, seeing Fred and George step in through the portrait hole, your stomach flipping nervously as you anticipated a barrage of insults or horrible pranks, their allegiance turning from you now.

"Fred, Freddie please," you begged, dropping your makeshift bedding to walk towards him, trying to reach out for him. You paused as you saw the redness on the back of his left hand, a clearly fresh punishment, 'I must not break rules'. George intercepts immediately and barges past you, blocking you from getting to Fred as he turns his twin away from you.

"You think you know someone," George mutters as he gently nudges Fred up the stairs, sending you a vicious glare before he walks up after him, once again leaving you alone. Fred didn't even spare a single glance at you, not even to recoil away.

You curled up in a corner armchair as soon as the tears appeared, pathetically dragging the blanket over you and cried until you fell asleep in the uncomfortable chair.

The two weeks that followed were the absolute worst weeks of your life. Umbridge had stripped you of everything you loved in one fell swoop, turned everyone against you and left the place you called home feeling miserable and lonely. You deserved it, you knew that, having ratted them out. You'd antagonised her and now had to live through then consequences, as cruel and twisted as they were.

The glares from everyone you had once called friends hadn't stopped, especially from George, which hurt the most. Fred had outright ignored any effort you'd made to reach out to him, no matter how desperate you'd sounded or how hard you'd tried to make him understand. He didn't care. He believed the lie.

The first week you'd tried to take your meals with the rest of the Gryffindors but it was made abundantly clear to you that you were not permitted nor welcome to join your friends and had been cruelly banished to the end of the table, beside the first years. The second week you'd stopped attending meals at all, not able to push through the shame and embarrassment of being cast away, exiled from your group. Lessons were monotonous and any down time was utterly excruciating as you were left enclosed with the other Gryffindors, namely your ex boyfriend, though no one would make any contact with you. You'd tried to sleep in your dorm but the girls had done nearly everything to prevent you from actually sleeping, talking loudly, setting off whizzbangs inside your curtains and had even transfigured your blanket a few times to varying degrees of horrid things. At the end of the night when you were certain everyone was asleep, usually very late, you'd creep down to the common room and huddle into your uncomfortable chair to sleep, only to be woken mere hours later when the first of the easy risers woke up. Your life was hell.

"There's just something I don't understand," Hermione says as they all stand on the bridge, the golden trio, Ginny and the Twins, all wrapped up in warm clothes and sweaters as they discuss the changes put into place since Umbridge had taken over as Headmistress. Naturally, the conversation had diverted to you, something Fred was entirely displeased about. The group turn to Hermione after her words, intrigued by the change in tone. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes before opening them again, as if building the strength to say her next sentence.

"I jinxed the enrolment parchment, for Dumbledore's Army," she admits, not quite meeting the gaze of the group around her. "It was purely a preventative measure, incase we were betrayed by one of our own. The person who disclosed any secrets would be jinxed to break out in spots, to spell out 'sneak' across their forehead, so we knew who the betrayer was. Y/N didn't have that, she never even had a single spot."

"Blimey Hermione," Ron says a little breathlessly, disbelieving she'd have actually gone that far.

"I know," she says a little defensively, "I just can't work out how she got around it!"

"Maybe she wrote her name wrong? Did she know about the jinx?" Harry suggests but Hermione shook her head, at the very same time that Ginny replied.

"I was behind her, I saw her write her name. It was right."

"Maybe the jinx didn't work?" Harry suggests carefully but stops himself when he receives a forceful glare from Hermione at the very notion of her failure.

"What does it matter? She dobbed us in wether or not she's covered in spots!" Ron says rather harshly, leaning against the wooden bannister.

Fred can't listen anymore, completely overwhelmed by the conversation and the thought of you betraying them. He turns and walks off back towards the castle without so much as a word to the others, not even his twin, and ignores their calls of his name as they watch him fade into the distance.

Spotting you sitting alone in the corner of the room when he returns to the common room, he frowns to himself. He'd known you since the moment you stepped on the Hogwarts express and had loved you for nearly just as long. It was wrong to see you sat alone, so sad and without the usual spark you naturally emitted. Everyone had always been drawn to you, your humour and wit, your dazzling smile, the fact you made everyone aroun you feel comfortable and valued. Too many boys had been drawn to you for his liking but you'd never even given them the time of day, never once wavering in your loyalty to him or ever made him doubt that it was him you wanted. You'd spent years supporting him, helping him and George develop their products, cheering for him loudly at every Quidditch game and had wormed your way into the hearts of every single one of his family members. Secretly, it crushed him to see you so lonely and tired, even if he still felt the sting of your betrayal.

It didn't add up, though he wouldn't disclose this to any of the more angered members of the group, why you would do such a thing. You'd been excited to start the DA, had joined in enthusiastically, kept the secret for so long and most of all you completely despised Umbridge. He couldn't deny that he still loved you, even though he was conflicted with his feelings now, he still held out hope that this would all go away, that there was a reasonable explanation but his anger wouldn't allow him to listen. It killed him to push you away, wanting nothing more than for things to return to normal but he felt a deep sense of betrayal that he couldn't shift.

"Fred?" He heard from behind him, pulling him out of his musings making him realise that he'd been staring at you all this time as he turned towards the person addressing him. Her name was Emery Atkinson, a Gryffindor from the year below that he'd never really acknowledged or spent much time with.

"Yeah?" He replies politely though he couldn't escape the edge of irritation after being pulled away from his thoughts. He watches as the girl giggles as soon as he acknowledges her and tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Oh good I got the right twin!" She giggles, ignorant to the blank look she received from Fred. "I was wondering if you had some canary creams I could buy? My brother loves them and it's his birthday soon. Your inventions are so clever, I don't know how you and George find the time between your studies and Quidditch, it must be exhausting. You're so good as Quidditch, I always cheer you on. Plus your girlfriend, but I heard that you weren't together anymore right?"

Truthfully, Fred had only registered the first half of her speech, tuning out after Canary Creams but his attention had been drawn back at the mention of you. He can't help but feel that little stab of sadness at the mention of you, especially someone referring to you as his girlfriend, or Ex rather. In the back of his mind he wonders if you heard that, from your short distance away, he hoped not.

"I still can't believe it, why would she do that? If I was with you I wouldn't even dream of ruining it." She sounds faux-scandalised and quite frankly, rather bitchy as he reaches out to touch the sleeve of his sweater. Fred doesn't humour her and instead takes half a step back subtly, reaching to scratch the back of his head as a discreet way of getting her off.

"Er, yeah I think we have some creams leftover, I'll send George over with some later, alright?"

"Not you?" She says with a sad little face, trying out her best puppy dog eyes that have absolutely no affect on him.

"George deals with the confectionery," he says a little too quickly; which is a complete lie. "Sorry, I've got somewhere to be but I'll let him know you're interested in buying."

He breaks away, giving her a forced but polite smile and a brief, parting wave but it's awkward and he's inwardly cringing as soon as he puts his hand down. Turning to where you had been sat in the chair, he notices you've disappeared and he is instantly overcome with a wave of guilt. You'd heard it all.

—

The next few days passed in blur for Fred, his mind wandering between what he was doing and thoughts of you, like he couldn't concentrate for more than a minute. He felt so conflicted within himself, made worse by the time spent apart from you, the longing beginning to set in. He'd never really been apart from you for very long, at most only a few weeks during the summer holidays and even then you'd have sent numerous letters by now, keeping in contact as much as you could until you were back beside each other. Now it was just torture, having you so close but so far away and the knowledge that he was the one that had pushed you away only furthered his guilt and internal conflict.

Fred was in a terrible mood, battling his thoughts, surviving on very little sleep and now the threat of her sadistic punishment was the icing on the cake of a really crap day when he and George had been forced to Umbridge's office. Harry had been caught trying to use the floo, to alert the order or escape and had been caught red handed by Umbridge. Each member of the DA had been frogmarched into the office, shoved and restrained by members of the inquisitorial squad and each member looked as uneasy as the next. His stomach turned when he saw Ginny held down by Goyle and he fought to get out of Graham Montegue's hold but it was useless when Umbridge mindlessly cast a spell to subdue him.

Harry was sat in the chair in the centre of the room, the first to be questioned with Umbridge hovering dangerously close to him, her temper boiling over as she speaks frantically in his face.

"You were going to Dumbledore weren't you?" She says, leaning down threateningly in front of Harry.

"No," Harry responds.

"Liar!" She screams back and in a move that shocks each member of the DA, she pulls back her hand and slaps Harry hard around the face, the harsh sound echoing through the otherwise silent room.

She pauses for a moment, simply glaring at Harry until her face twists into a sick, twisted grin as she straightens up and composes herself, each movement carefully thought out as she turns her back to him.

"Very well, you give me no choice Potter," she says with an even cadence, her tone dangerously low. "As this is an issue of Ministry security, you leave me with... no alternative, unless Professor Snape arrives within moments."

Fred feels like he can hardly breathe, the tension and unease in the air so thick that the room feels like it's getting smaller by the second. The unpredictability of the woman before them was alarming, the dangerous undertone of her voice despite her light and breezy tone was almost scarier than his worst nightmare.

"The cruciatus curse ought to loosen your tongue," she says, adjusting her pink jacket.

"That's illegal," Hermione states in outrage but Umbridge hardly flinches. Instead, she reaches out for the photo frame of the minister on her desk and pauses briefly to look at it before turning it over and lying it down flat on the desk, so that Fudge could not see her next move. She straightens herself and extends her wand, only to stop when Snape appears by the door, his eyes fixed to her outstretched wand that was pointed directly at Harry.

"You sent for me Headmistress?"

"Snape, yes," she says, taking a step back and everyone in the room exhales, relaxing only slightly. "The time has come for answers, wether he wants to give them to me or not," she says, her eyes flicking to Harry only briefly.

"Might I suggest against the cruciatus curse this time headmistress," he says evenly and carefully, "the consequences of such an audience might be... disagreeable. In fact I would hesitate in conducting any of the prior disciplinary methods in this instance.""

This time? She'd used the cruciatus curse before? And on a student? Prior disciplinary methods? Fred thinks, did he mean the quill?

"Very well," she says after a moment of pondering, her arm falling to her side as she relents, eyes wandering over the all too familiar Quill that sits proudly on her desk before her gaze shifts back to Snape. "Have you brought the veritaserum?"

"I'm afraid you've used up all my stores, the last of it interrogating Miss y/l/n."

Snape carries on speaking but Fred doesn't hear a single word, blood rushing to his ears as his heart pounds. He feels like he's received a stray bludger straight to the chest, his stomach dropping with fresh shame, sadness and overwhelming guilt.

Suddenly it all made sense. She'd tortured you into giving out the information- the cruciatus curse, veritaserum, what else had she done to you?

He couldn't help but let out a dry sob at the information, sensing everyone's eyes on him at the news. He struggled against the holds with everything in him, needing to fix what he'd broken.

He'd believed them, so quickly, believed that you could have betrayed them like that. The pain you must have felt, the loneliness and the guilt and then after your whole ordeal he had cast you aside, pushed you away and never given you a single chance to explain.

He eventually turned to look at George who looked utterly broken by the news, his regretful inner thoughts so evident upon his face. Each member of the DA looked a mixture of guilty, sheepish and sad, realising how wrong they'd been about you and what they'd done to someone who had once been their friend, someone who had suffered so much for all of them.

The meeting seemed to go abhorrently slowly until Umbridge left with Harry and Hermione on a sort of mission based upon a quickly constructed lie and Fred didn't waste a single moment before turning around on the spot and punching Graham Montegue straight in the face as soon as Umbridge had left. Seizing the momentary upper hand, the remaining members of the DA turned on the inquisitorial squad and fired an array of jinxes and spells at them in order to get away.

"Fred, Go!" George had urged whilst stunning Crabbe, allowing Ginny to step free. Malfoy fought back but he was quickly matched by Angelina who covered for Fred, blocking the exit.

"Go, she needs you!" Angelina shouted as she sent a jinx flying towards Cassius Warrington's smug face.

Fred didn't hang about and immediately ran out of the office and towards the common room where he was praying you'd be. It was quiet on the main staircases, perhaps it seemed much quieter because of the lack of portraits and bare walls but even to the few people Fred passed, he offered no explanation nor cared about what they thought. He needed to find you.

"Y/n!" He said bursting through the portrait hole and scanning the common room for you, checking the chair you'd so often occupied but found nothing except a couple of bewildered faces at his strange outburst.

"Y/n?" He called again, walking up the stairs towards the dormitories but received no reply. In his haste, he accidentally misstepped as he climbed up to the girls dorm and nearly triggered the blocking slide to appease but fortunately managed to regain his balance and stress carefully over the path he'd taken so many times before, the secret message in the steps that allowed him to breach the rules.

He threw open your dormitory door and stopped blankly when he found nothing. Your bed looked like it hadn't been slept in, there was hardly any of your things around the bed and the room. Had he come to the wrong room?

"Fred?" Your voice said shyly from behind him and he whipped around to see you looking up at him hesitantly from near the door, holding a few things in your arms and your robe tied tightly around your chest.

"Y/n," he says with a sigh of relief, moving forwards quickly to reach out to you but once again stopping short as he noticed you visibly flinch at his sudden movement. Suddenly the overwhelming agony of guilt and regret hit him anew and he vowed to slow down, hoping not to scare you away.

"I'm so sorry," he said, voice breaking slightly as he looked at your tired, sullen face and those wide, scared eyes. He'd never seen you look so broken and it killed him.

"I didn't, I don't ," he stutters, dropping to sit on the side of your bed. "You haven't been sleeping here have you?"

There's a minor pause and he wonders if you're actually going to reply to him, if he even deserves it, until you step forward and place your things down onto the bedside table. He watches in silence, noting the large book and a few packaged bandages that slip onto the table as you gingerly take a seat beside him, your feet no longer touching the floor.

"Kind of hard to when you're banished by the rest of your dorm," you reply quietly. He can't detect the tone of your voice, expecting it to be sarcastic or unhappy but it actually sounds flat and completely void of emotion.

"The chair," he realises, "you've been sleeping in that chair?" He's slightly bewildered and profoundly ashamed now, not having clicked until now that you'd been there early in a morning and late in the night, much later than you'd ever typically stayed up before. You shrug and turn your attention away, though you're yet to actually meet his eyes.

He drags a deep breath in through his teeth, resisting the urge to hang his head low on his shoulders.

"Y/n, I am so sorry, I, I don't even have words," he says, stumbling over his words- something so uncharacteristic for him that it briefly startles you. "You didn't deserve this, even if you had told Umbridge about us, no one deserves this. We were all so shocked that it could be you, of all people. We never stopped to think of why," he pauses again, steadying himself. "Snape admitted what she did to you, she tried to use it on Harry but he stopped him."

"But the quill was broken? How could she use it on Harry?" You say, finally looking up with a look of complete confusion.

"What quill?" Fred asks, completely lost himself, "the black quills? I meant the cruciatus curse, she, I mean she, on you, didn't she?"

Your silence says everything and he has to close his eyes and steady his breathing at your silent confirmation.

"What quill?" Fred feels a little bolder now and reaches for you but you pull your arm back and place it in your lap, trying not to wince as you catch the healing scars. "This one?"

He holds out his hand and shows you the faint markings from his punishment, 'I must not break rules' barely visible now. He frowns when you shake your head but don't offer any other explanation. He's frustrated that he's not getting anywhere but it's internal and he knows it's not your fault, he just wishes he could help, or go back in time and fix everything.

"Tell me, please," he says, keeping his eyes locked in the side of your face, trying to urge you to look at him. "What happened in that detention?"

"It doesn't matter," you say quickly, hopping down off the bed and stepping over to your trunk to get a fresh shirt from the laundry pile, knowing it would need changing. "I've got to shower."

You go to turn away but Fred lunges for you and grabs your arm to stop you from leaving, making you cry out in pain as soon as his fingers make contact with the tender skin. As soon as the shock wears off, he frowns, looking down at your arm before looking up to your face, seeing tears falling down your cheeks.

"Please baby, please just tell me," he says, voice breaking as his own tears well up in his eyes.

"She told you about the veritaserum?" You ask, assuming anyway and Fred nods. "Then you know what you need to know."

"No, I don't," he says quickly, trying to think of ways to stop you leaving without hurting you. "She used an unforgivable curse on you! Gave you truth serum, you cried when I touched your arm and you have bandages on your bedside table, please just tell me what happened!"

"Fine," you say, pulling your arm back. "You want to know? She tried to force it out of me, tried to get me to drink the stupid tea but I wouldn't. When that didn't work she pulled out that little stupid quill and wrote anything she wanted all over me. You wanted to know about the bandages? Fine," you said viciously, clawing at the fastening of your robe. Underneath was your once crisp, white shirt that had a considerable amount of red blood staining the sleeve. You didn't stop undressing, all but ripping the buttons away as you fought to show Fred what was underneath.

Bandages littered your forearms, with blood oozing out the sides. Fred's frozen as he looks at the bandages on your body, sick to his stomach already.

"Did you know Snape is a skilled occlumens? I didn't, I do now. So after she was playing with that sadistic little quill, writing whatever she wanted into my skin, he enters my mind and shows me every single fear I've ever had, every nightmare. But I didn't say a word, not a single fucking word. Do you know what it's like to have visions forced into your own mind of your boyfriend dying in front of you repeatedly, over and over until you start to go mad? All whilst your skin is slashed open just to get you to talk? Only it didn't work, so she dropped the quill and picked up her wand. I've never felt closer to death in my life but still so far away from it. But I wouldn't talk. So she forced veritaserum in my mouth and I couldn't stop it, she got what she wanted no matter what I'd fought for. And the best part? They don't heal, not truly. Nothing I do stops it, like a constant reminder of what happened."

"Princess," Fred chokes out, tears streaming down his cheeks, fighting to hold back his sobs at your words.

"No, not princess," you say sternly, emotions all falling from your face. "Not anymore."

"Please, I want to make this right, anything I can do, I want to support you," he says, nearly begging. "I have to make this right, I can't lose you."

"No."

Your voice is harsh and stern, your face expressionless again. "You believed them so easily, you all did. You believed I could do that to you, without hesitation. You didn't let me explain, never even looked at me because you were so certain that I could have done it. I've been exiled, banished and forgotten by all of you I called friends without a single thought. So you and your stupid brother and the rest of Dumbledore's friggin army can go fuck yourselves, it's not my fight anymore."

Fred flinches as the door slams shut behind you and he's left to sob openly, his devastation consuming him. Eventually when he returns to his own dorm, George says nothing upon seeing his twin's stricken face and his curtains fully closing around the bed.

The next morning, Fred has already left the dorm by the time George wakes up and doesn't see him at all around the common room or the hall, though he's not surprised. But when he doesn't show to his lessons, George worries and goes in search for his twin with increasing worry. Eventually, he finds him in the library, pouring over an array of books from the restricted section, most of them about healing spells and anatomy.

"Freddie?"

When Fred looks up with red rimmed eyes and an intense look in his eyes, it's clear to George that Fred hadn't slept. "Whatever it is, let me help."

One week. It took one week of endlessly pouring over book after book until they finally found options.

It's early morning on a Saturday when Fred creeps down to the common room was before the sun has risen, seeing you hunched over in your chair. Angelina had told him that they'd apologised profusely to you and had accepted you back with open arms back to the dormitory but you'd simply walked away and carried on sleeping by the fire, not yet willing to forgive them for the treatment you'd endured.

"Y/n, y/n, wake up," he says quietly, carefully touching your shoulder, trying to avoid anywhere that he had seen bandaged.

"Freddie?" You ask sleepily and his heart soars with hope at the noise, the familiarity of it abs the softness of your voice so heartwarming.

"I have something to show you, me and George," he says lightly, waiting for you to wake up.

"Told you both to get fucked," you mumble, squashing any hope he had, but he perseveres.

"Just this once prince-y/n, please," he says quietly. You open your eyes, seeing him still dressed in his pyjamas, pleading with his eyes and looking so vulnerable that you relent and agree to whatever he had planned. Throwing back the blanket, you surprise a groan at the stiffness in your neck and diligently follow him back up the stairs towards his dorm, accepting his hand as he guides you. Your hand fits perfectly into his, just as it always had.

"Where's Lee?" You say as you walk into the dorm room, seeing only George who gives you a small but timid smile.

"Bunking with Ron," Fred says somewhat vaguely, gesturing for you to sit on his bed. The room looks exactly as you remember albeit slightly less dishevelled than you'd experienced previously, but you don't mention anything. Fred takes a seat beside you and George moves forward, grabbing a book from the chair beside his bed.

"We don't know if this will work," George says.

"But it's better than nothing," Fred finishes, gingerly reaching out for your hand.

"What?"

"The wounds," George says gently, "Fred told me, we just want to make them better. Might not get rid of them completely but it's worth a shot."

"Found this in an old healing book, it's a counter curse for wound healing by curse," Fred says, taking the book from George to show you. "Figured Umbridge's quill must have been cursed so this might work. Please let us help."

All it takes is a nod from you, albeit slightly hesitant but truthfully there was no one you trusted more than the twins, before at least.

You could hardly look them in the eyes as you pulled away the bandages, the vile words etched into your skin by her personal sadistic quill. You heard George inhale at the deepest cut along your inner right forearm but didn't react, knowing it would be shocking to anyone.

"Take my hand, if it hurts too much all you have to do is squeeze and we'll stop, okay baby?"

Biting down on your lip to stifle your cries, you hold Fred's hand tightly as George begins to cast the counter-curse, each of you watching on with rapt attention and slight amazement as the cuts begin to slowly knit together. It was working.

You whimper as he works over the deepest, the same one Fred had accidentally caught the week before and Fred's hand squeezes yours automatically for support.

"You're doing so well sweetheart, it'll be over soon I promise," he says quietly in your ear, comforting you in anyway he could.

After the last cut is sealed, George immediately drops down to sit onto his bed, his concentration and energy depleted from focusing so hard. You can't believe it as you look down at your arms, no longer seeing blood and only able to see the faintest of marks and redness where the wounds had once been. Only then do tears begin to fall from your eyes as you launch yourself towards Fred, throwing your arms around him in appreciation. He steadies himself after a moment of being caught off guard and holds you tightly against him, shushing you gently as you cry. His arms wrap around you so perfectly, so protectively and his smell comforts you like to no other, exactly as you remember.

"You did so well, so well, it's okay baby," he coos into your ear. You pull apart slowly and immediately walk over to George, pulling him into a hug though it's a lot less intimate.

"Thank you both so much," you sniffle.

"You're welcome," they answer at the same time, making you smile.

"We've missed you," George says after a moment. "I'm so sorry for what you went through and for what I said. I should have known it wasn't your fault, you've been my best friend for so long and I'm so ashamed of myself for how easily I believed her over you, that should never have happened."

"And you know how sorry I am," Fred says, walking over to you and kneeling down until he's directly in front of you.

"You're the best thing that has ever happened to me and I was an idiot for ever thinking it was you. I know things can't ever go back to how they were before, but I love you so much that I can't lose you. Seeing you hurting almost broke me and I know that you might need time or never see me again but you need to know exactly how I still feel about you."

"It's not just you," you say in reply, heaving out a long breathe, "I pushed people away."

"We deserved it," George says.

"Baby," Fred says gently, getting your attention. "I don't know how to fix this or how to make things better, but I'll do anything. I was an idiot, a complete git but I'll spent the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. Please say this isn't ruined."

For the first time since the incident, you allow yourself to feel hopeful that things could get better, that Fred could love you again. Sat surrounded by the two people you loved most in the world, you finally felt the love and protection you'd been needing since that awful night.

"I want that," you say quietly, picking at the blanket under your fingers, "I just want things to just go back to normal." You raise your eyes up to Fred's to see him smiling back at you, clearly pleased with your words.

"Well, let's start with this then," he says with a mischievous smirk, leaning towards you painfully slowly as if he's giving you plenty of time to say no or push him away. His soft lips press against yours gently and you can't help but feel a warmth spread all over your body, almost like you were defrosting and returning back to you're usual self. His hand reaches up to cup the side of your jaw and you're certain you can feel a fear hit your cheek, though it doesn't come from you.

The next morning, you walk hand in hand with Fred into the great hall for breakfast and sit right back at the centre of the table with your friends. You assume Fred or George had threatened them not to say anything as everyone around you acts normal, pretending the previous weeks didn't exist, though one by one they all apologised to you, most notably Ron and Harry. Ginny thought you were badass for everything you'd been through, not relenting even though you'd been tortured into eventually revealing the secret. Hermione had apologised so eloquently and thoroughly that you both ended up crying in the common room as she explained about the jinxed parchment and how she'd held out hope that it hadn't been you.

Each person made it up to you in anyway they could, admitting their mistakes and regrets and though you would probably never forget, you chose to forgive.

Taglist requests

@ferntv

@aigowen

@that-lame-ghoul9000

@jules-with-stars

@sleepiemocha

@seppys-return-to-madness

@wtvbabes

@the-mrs-malik-styles

@cedslover

@nisapoosworld

@dashhhhkaaa

@ghostlytv

@nerdymesss

@costheticbabe

@cliffburtonscig

@lildrunkjkk

@levylovegood

@jewelsrules

@jphxnix

@asuperconfusedgirl

@staceys-moms-thighs

@nighttimewrites

@egghasnoleg

@mel119g

@angelrioter

@minatozsana

@quinny921

@blahhh819

@comicgollum20

@moonieseyelash

@marisimps

@xslashers

@70s-chic

@shadyunknowncreation

@rockabieesstuff

@moon-2424

@chx-la

@malenk

@jimmywoosimp

@soulessfictionaddict

@twistedlaces1909

@brookiecookiez0

@nightowlgirl

@fiathefirst

@football1921

@in-the-middle-of-the-sadness

@rk-ceres

@kisses4fred

@apolloleprince

@slashersimpshadow

@slytherinambitious

@screamingoverfiction

@rhunew

@tomhockstetter7-111

@hagridshaircare

@ellouisa17

@fonderaura

@clemlament

@jennapancake

@murderisfunlol

@ohantonia

@storytime-20

@guavacookie23

@satansdarlin

@smartoneamia

@littlelillysjs

@victorylr

@nanamisfootrest

@nulixity

@03michi01

@deadgirlsrunning

@wzardweasley

@katarinealbers

@catarinemirandax

@moon-shu

@bob1234567908

@tommysaxes

@hayleygray08

@skivingsnackbox

@slashersimpshadow

@smholbrook

@bbybunnyxxx

@thatonepersonwhocantwrite

@heyareyoulistening

@buskuitsssss

@now-that-we-dontalk

@xluanstuff

@lunacurlclaw

@jelloangela

@distortedfrog888

@justromaaa

@maeganme

@havenater1920

@weasleywheezer

@whotfskai

@zvummyummy

@rogertaylorsgrippers

@fandom-taylor

@justwannaread12

@foreverthemaraudersera

@sonnysshine

@superduckmilkshake

@tkyemfk

@megablonde22

@feralasteria

@s1xthirty

@thatoneuchiha

@agaypurpletoaster

@fudge13

@honeysucklepotter

@crazycat-ladys-blog

@yanqiiuver

@winisposts

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley masterlist #Fred Weasley angst #request #taglist

720 notes · View notes

awyeahitssam · 9 months ago

Text

“Expulso!”

The force of the magic slammed him through one wall and into another, and Harry could not breathe. It felt like the time Dudley sat on top of his chest, pressing all of the air from his lungs. He gasped and choked to no avail, the sensation of breathlessness more distressing than the stars dancing before his eyes and the ringing of his ears.

He was dying, dying, dying.

After a too-long moment Harry managed a shuddering inhale, getting a lungful of concrete dust for his troubles. He doubled over, coughing violently. His wand. He needed his wand.

His right arm was screaming in pain, and Harry squinted through hazy eyes to find a bone sticking out of it at a decidedly odd angle, having ripped through his shirt and robes. Harry had a half-hearted thought of relief that Lockhart wasn’t here to vanish all the bones, which was strange because he should be focusing on the fact that he still couldn’t breathe properly.

He blinked blearily and twitched his left hand with a desperation that had his wand—blessedly whole—slapping into it. Harry wasn’t used to casting with his off hand, but he was still able to twist it enough to cast a bubble-head charm.

The spell was silent, because he had no breath for words and no time to think that he couldn’t manage. He had to.

Harry gasped again, this time into a clean pocket of air, and the panic receded a little more at the hard-won oxygen. The pulsing of his temples began to ease on his next breath, but the world still looked too-bright and decidedly crooked.

“My Lord,” came a smooth, even voice, “shall I take his wand?”

Harry’s eyes focused slowly on the two figures in front of him as his fingers tightened almost compulsively around his wand. His.

“Let the child learn his lesson in full first,” said Lord Voldemort generously.

Harry swallowed around a dry mouth, glad to taste no blood. At least he hadn’t bitten his tongue or gotten any teeth knocked loose. He inhaled deeply again, revelling in his ability to do so, though the motion made him notice an ache in his sternum as well. Bruised ribs, maybe?

‘Lesson?’ Harry wondered blearily, a few beats too late.

Though perhaps he said it out loud, because Voldemort replied, “That you are no match for Lord Voldemort.”

Of course he wasn’t. What a stupid point to try and make. He was fifteen. He barely knew any magic at all. Voldemort had been given decades to learn, versus Harry’s five years. Any competent adult—and wasn’t that an oxymoron—could easily outmatch him, nevertheless a Dark Lord.

“Well,” Voldemort’s voice came dryly, “you have more sense than I expected, having been raised on Dumbledore’s knee.”

Harry let out a vague approximation of a laugh. He hadn’t known Voldemort had a sense of humour. Dumbledore couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as him. They’d spoken—what, six times since he was eleven? Dumbledore hadn’t so much as looked his way the entire year.

Not that Harry exactly wanted his attention. He was still angry with the Headmaster for that stupidity with the Triwizard Tournament, and his assault after returning from the Graveyard, and the resulting announcement made (on Harry’s behalf, as if he had any right to speak for him) that Voldemort was back. Really, Harry could have avoided a year of carving ‘I must not tell lies,’ into his own hand if it wasn’t for Dumbledore deciding to tell the world about Voldemort’s resurrection.

Or maybe not, if Umbridge was one of Voldemort’s and he’d told her to torture Harry for revealing his return. Who knew? That would certainly have been a neat, simple solution. The woman was prejudiced enough to be on par with Malfoy, and he was a Death Eater. But if being prejudiced was the only qualifier to being a part of Voldemort’s army, or movement, or whatever the hell it was, then everybody would get an invite. Dudders could be a Death Eater; make his parents proud.

“He has quite a mouth on him, My Lord.”

Wow, how observant. Snape would love this guy.

Was Harry concussed? That was weird. Normally if he was concussed he stayed very, very still and quiet until he was able to sleep and his magic saw him to rights. If he got talkative with a head injury, the Durlsey’s would’ve probably dropped him at an orphanage like they always threatened, or maybe just left him in the middle of nowhere in hopes that he’d drop dead.

“What nonsense is he blubbering about?” the voice said again, and the trace of discomfort was slight but obvious to a boy who had been forced to pick up on such subtleties to survive. Did he not like to hear about the fact that some kids did not get coddled?

Did Death Eaters coddle their kids? Like, as a whole? Draco Malfoy had definitely been coddled; he acted just like Dudley, if not as stupid. He’d definitely grown up with a bed and food and people that would say ‘yes’ to his whims. He just had that sense about him.

Not that Harry wished that the boy hadn’t grown up with that stuff. Harry wouldn’t be intentionally cruel enough to hope for that. Just, he didn’t have to rub it in people’s faces so much. Then again, the brat would have to have manners or something not to do that, and with each passing day Harry was becoming increasingly sure that no witch or wizard actually possessed any matter of manners at all. Everyone was so rude, all the time. Well actually Riddle hadn’t been rude at first, but then he sicced a basilisk on Harry, which was not only rude but also attempted murder.

Wait, where was he again? Oh. Halfway into the wall he had flown into after bursting through the first. Attempted murder again. That made sense.

The only question was, why was Voldemort so bad at actually murdering him? That had to be a little embarrassing. Oh wait, no, ‘lesson’. The man wanted to teach him something. Harry wondered if he wanted to be a good student for the Dark Lord, or if he’d rather just decline the opportunity. So far, he taught like a muggle.

“A muggle?”

Ouch. Harry’s scar hurt more than his arm; how did Voldemort do that? Harry needed to learn so he could hurt the man right back. Fairs fair.

A finger pressed cruelly into Harry’s brow, right over his scar. It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurtithurt!

“Just like a muggle,” Harry gasped out. Physical violence. Just like Vernon. Voldemort. Vernon. Maybe everyone in the world who had a V-name was the worst.

Cold fingers felt surprisingly nice against Harry’s overheated face. The pain of his scar ebbed abruptly, leaving a dizzying confusion in its wake. Harry might throw up sometime soon.

“Would you like non-physical violence, boy?” Voldemort asked.

Harry carded through the options. Isolation and containment. Starvation. Maybe mental violence, the kind that Snape preferred. Verbal violence of Petunia’s ilk seemed a bit below the Dark Lord, but then her words about how much of a worthless, unnatural freak Harry was did circle his head to this day, so there was no doubt that kind of thing was effective. Just, probably it would’ve been effective if Voldemort had started before he could remember like Petunia had.

“Do you have a non-violent option? Or is there a box I can check to be killed quickly? Is this a survey? I would rate your services as abysmal. Or wait. Uh. Troll. That’s it, right? Yeah. Bad… bad grade. Probably your first. You’ve failed pacifism. A truly bleak thing for a Dark Lord. You have my greatest sympathies. Surely this will hurt your future career options and they’ll have to lower your salary.”

Are revolutionaries paid? Or does Voldemort take his own payment? What would be a suitable payment for a Dark Lord? The bodies of his opposers? But then, all his opposers are magical, and didn’t Riddle have that Magic is Might thing? Or was that just something he said? The man had ordered the death of Cedric, who had been the most worthy of age wizard at Hogwarts according to the cup. Apparently Cedric’s completely attractive competency hadn’t mattered, because Voldemort hadn’t hesitated to kill one of the brightest of a generation when a stunner and memory charm could’ve worked just as well.

Then again, he’d wanted to kill a baby, once, and the death toll of the last war had officially been tallied at one-hundred and seven magicals, after Harry’s parents, so obviously he could care less if he was decimating their population, so long as he got to rule the world or whatever.

“Potter, do shut up.”

Huh? Had Harry been talking?

“Rambling,” the voice of the oddly not simpering sycophant chimed in helpfully.

Well. That was something. Normally Harry went very quiet when he was concussed and waited for his magic to—oh. His magic. Harry had magic. What had he done last summer, when Sirius was no longer an adequate threat? He could probably just…

Harry looked down to see his wand in his left hand. He set it down very gently, then stared blankly at said hand for a long, long moment. Then the air around it began to do that cute little vibrating thing that his magic would do when it hadn’t been let out for long enough, because of the stupid Dursley’s, and the stupid rules, (why the fuck weren’t students allowed to use magic at all over the summer? Didn’t it make them feel like they were going to burst apart with all the suppressed energy? It was near painful sometimes unless Harry found some way to use it, which invariably the Dursely’s gave him.)

A hand grasped over his wrist and held him at bay. “Do not do whatever you are considering, you stupid, reckless child—”

Harry was a child, and he had chosen to be reckless when he had chosen Gryffindor over Slytherin, so he let his wrist spark with electricity that was enough to get the touch away from him. Why did people always feel so entitled to touching him? He shivered in revulsion even as he placed his hand to his head and let his eyes fall shut.

His magic went to work, effective as always. This was only the second time it hadn’t waited until Harry was asleep. That was very nice of it.

“Thank you,” he told it quite seriously, in the middle of its work. It buzzed against his temple, a current of energy, and Harry quieted and let it continue.

When Harry re-opened his eyes, his vision was not blurry, his head not pounding, and the world not an unsteady bouquet of water colours with a diagonal slant. When he opened his eyes, he met the red gaze of the Dark Lord Voldemort, and swallowed.

“Oh. Just… lovely. Hi?”

The man behind the Dark Lord snorted. Harry spared him a glance—no features were visible beneath his cloak and mask.

Harry’s throat worked around a swallow. “Fancy seeing you here,” Harry offered, and then set his hand on his arms, because why not, and winced when his bone snapped back into place.

Ithurtsithurtsohshit.

Voldemort’s eyes were gleaming with an odd sort of hunger. “I wonder if you will be so eager to talk now, Harry Potter? Tell me… when was the last time you encountered me treating you politely?”

Voldemort didn’t know about the Chamber?

Harry swallowed. “Okay,” he said.

Voldemort stared. “Just like that.”

“It’s not like I’m opposed to you knowing. I thought you already knew, but apparently you and Tom Riddle weren’t as connected as he implied. Though, you know, if you want me to spill all, you should at least say please.”

Harry’s scar ached, but his arm didn’t any more. Unlike his ribs. “Pardon?”

“You would actually prefer to use Crucio than say please,” Harry noted. “That says mildly concerning things about you, you know. Common courtesy—Troll.”

“He’s stalling,” the Death Eater noted, when Voldemort moved as if for his wand.

“Of course I am,” Harry rebutted. “He’s clever; you should keep him around to control your terrible temper.”

Why was Harry doing this? Was he waiting for a rescue that would never come, or an opening that was twice as unlikely given the multitude of people involved.

The Death Eater laughed, and Harry saw a flash of green light. Heard his mothers scream.

“Oh,” he said, eyes going a bit wide. “There’s two of you.”

Both figures went unnaturally still. “Why would you say that?” The cloaked Voldemort asked.

Harry tilted his head. “Your laugh,” he said simply. “Your voice is different, but your laugh is the same. Also, you’re not nearly frightened enough of ‘Your Lord’’.”

The cloaked figure hummed, then lowered his hood. “Clever boy,” he said lightly, eyes just as intent and intense as Voldemort’s own, though they were dark rather than bright. His hair was curly, Harry noticed, longer than Tom had kept it when he was in school, though this man didn’t look very old at all. He still had his nose, though his cheekbones were sharper than they had been as a boy, and unlike Voldemort he had lips as well. Harry catalogued these differences with some interest. The evolution of Voldemort, he thought vaguely.

“Technically,” he adds, as he finishes taking the other Dark Lord in, “I’d be doing the both of you a favour by sharing the story of my Second Year.”

His implication was clear. He wanted two pleases.

“You’re positively suicidal, aren’t you?” the human Voldemort murmured. “Very well, Harry. Please tell me about the circumstances surrounding your encounter or encounters with Tom Riddle, as well as the encounters themselves.”

Harry watched him thoughtfully. “What are you going by?”

“Marvolo,” the cloaked man answered easily.

“Marvolo,” he repeated thoughtfully. “Your middle name. Tom wrote it in the air for me—rearranged the letters to spell,” he gestured to Voldemort with his newly healed arm. It didn’t so much as twinge. He was more than a little impressed with his magic.

“How did you take the revelation?” said Voldemort, something cruel in his voice.

Harry's lips quirked. "I told him he was nothing special," Harry admitted easily. "I told him Dumbledore was the greatest wizard in the world. Mostly, I just wanted him to shut up. He kept asking questions,” he allowed his gaze to drift over both of them, mouth speaking absently even as calculations flashed through his mind. How was he going to get out of this unscathed? There had to be something… some way…

“He was desperate to know about the night you lost your body,” he told Voldemort. “He thought I would have the answers, somehow. I told him it was my mum. Muggleborn,” he informed Marvolo, in case he didn’t know. Harry’s lips curled in amusement. “He didn’t like that very much. Went on and on about how alike we are. Then he decided it was luck and chance that had saved me, said I was nothing special, and called the basilisk.”

“Maybe I proved him wrong when I killed it and then shoved a basilisk fang into the diary.”

Rage bloomed in two sets of eyes, but it was Voldemort that hissed, “You what?”

“Well, I was dying too at the time,” he defended. “I’m nothing if not spiteful. If I died, I was going to take him with me.”

“Yet here you are,” Marvolo said with clear menace. “Apparently you did not get close enough to death.”

Harry watched him, unimpressed. “The diary wasn’t the only thing that got stabbed with a basilisk fang.”

“You lie,” hissed Voldemort, redrawing Harry’s gaze as if he’d ever truly lost it.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s the liar, here? My parents died begging you for mercy?”

“Didn’t they? Your father begged for his wife's life, and yours. Your mother for yours alone.”

Harry’s lips pressed tight. “Really fucked yourself, didn’t you? You told my mum ‘very well’, when she begged to trade her life for mine. You agreed. You didn’t think she was powerful enough to form an unbreakable vow without the official bindings? You would think you would be smarter than pureblood rhetoric when you’re hardly pure yourself.”

“That's it?” Marvolo murmured, tilting his head thoughtfully. “You couldn’t tell me that?” He glanced at Voldemort, then straightened. “You didn’t know.”

Harry felt the silent chastisement in the words. ‘How is it that a child realised what you didn’t?’

#my writing #Voldemort #Horcrux #concussion #ficlet #Harry being Harry #what can you do

308 notes · View notes

jokeringcutio · 9 months ago

Text

The Grabber x Hufflepuff (f) Reader [1] (Explicit, warnings)

Because I noticed an astonishing amount of my Grabber readers have this one thing in common. It's the house. Hufflepuff. They all have Hufflepuff on their profiles. Summary: You're a Hufflepuff student and you get caught by the Dark Lord's infamous snatcher known as The Grabber.

Fandoms: The Black Phone, Harry Potter Rating: Explicit Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, clad touching, non/con or dub-con touching, Reader is a Hufflepuff, Reader is Innocent. Reader is a virgin, Reader is a Mudblood/Muggle-born, use of little witch/littlegirl/little one, Reader is of age, Grabber has an innocence corruption kink, Reader gets kidnapped. Harry Potter 2nd Wizard War AU.

Grabber x Hufflepuff [ 1 ]

The Room of Requirement shimmered with the focused intensity of young witches and wizards, secretly preparing for the fight against the Dark Lord and his followers. You were among them, your wand tracing arcs in the air as you practiced defensive spells like all others. Some students here were younger than you, some slightly older. But everyone was practicing with the same passion. The air was thick with concentration, punctuated by the occasional crackle of magic gone awry.

"Hey," Ginny's voice cut through the hum of activity, pulling you aside. She was in the same year as you, although you hadn’t truly talked until you joined Dumbledore’s Army. Her eyes held an edge of urgency. "I need you to fetch some Hellebore Herb from the Forbidden Forest."

You nodded, a quick, sharp motion. "I can do that," you murmured, feeling the weight of the task settle on your shoulders. Slipping out of the school was a grizzly task nowadays. Students weren’t allowed to leave as it was said to be too dangerous out there now that the Dark Lord had returned. But you knew danger lurked inside the walls of your school as much as it did outdoors. Most of the staff at Hogwarts was sympathizing with the pure-blood radicals. If one of them caught you sneaking out of the school, they’d be taking their time punishing you with heavy torture spells.

Luckily, you were quite skilled at being silent, always alert, and excellent at not being noticed. Ginny knew this. It was why she usually asked you or Clementine Felley, a Ravenclaw with similar skills but a year below you two, to do these sorts of assignments.

Because you’d been doing this for a while, you had grown confident in your skills. In the shadowy corner, you slipped into your school robe to protect yourself from the cold outside. You made sure to flip your hair from underneath it before donning the hood and hiding it again.

The yellow and black of Hufflepuff covered you, and you were glad you belonged to that house. Somehow, the yellow became just another shade when you were out in the dusk or dark, resembling green or brown and adapting to your surroundings. You ran your fingers over the emblem, feeling the rough embroidery against your skin, before you grasped a wicker basket, its weave tight and firm.

Creeping out of the Room of Requirement, you clutched the fabric of your robe close. The corridors loomed silent and watchful. You knew the stakes — capture meant punishment, Crucio, or worse if the Carrow siblings got their hands on you.

As the doors groaned closed behind you, you drew a deep breath. Every shadow could hold a spying eye, a guard, or an enchantment meant to betray your step. But like so many times before, you made it out of the school with practiced ease. The Forbidden Forest loomed, a dark maw ready to swallow you whole. Your heart thudded against your ribcage, but you pushed forward, feet whispering over fallen leaves and twigs.

Like you had hoped, nothing happened. You weren’t spotted. There was no alarm raised. And the deeper you got into the forest, the more at ease you started to feel. Not that there weren’t countless of dangers here, but with your wand and your knowledge of spells, you felt you could handle the forest’s creatures.

The underbrush crunched beneath your knees as you knelt, fingers sifting through the damp soil. You found the Hellebore — a sinister beauty with its deep green leaves and delicate blooms that belied the poison lurking within. Your breath came in careful puffs, visible in the twilight of the forest.

"Aren’t you a brave girl?" The voice was like gravel, grating against the hushed whispers of the trees. It struck a chord of fear, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your gaze lifted, heart beating high in your chest. There, a few feet away from you, a devil's mask leered down at you, eyes hollow pits of malice. You instantly recognized the foul creature from pictures in the newspaper. Moving images of the same mask, two hands raised next to it, showing the same rings you saw now glinting on his fingers in the light of the moon.

The Grabber.

His name slithered through your mind, conjuring images of snatched souls and vanished faces. His jacket hung open, revealing a swath of bare chest, skin pale in the moonlight, betraying he was just another man.

“What are you doing, lovely?” The voice was so deep and low that you felt it deep in your core. You squeezed your legs together uncomfortably, hoping the man didn’t notice the gesture, as you slowly rose from your knees.

Even standing, the man was at least a head taller than you. If not more.

“Well?” He tilted his head, the mask mocking you as it slanted.

"Collecting herbs," you managed, voice a mere wisp of sound. You tucked the Hellebore behind your back discreetly.

"Oh,” the man made a mocking sound that was almost called gentle. “Sweet thing, aren't you? Voice like honey." The Grabber cocked his mask, angling it in such a way that his eyes could trace you up and down. You could feel it, felt his gaze as it roamed over every inch of your body. It felt intimate, the way he studied you.

He stepped closer, the scent of earth and something darker emanating from him.

“Well, aren’t you going to tell the big bad man what kind of herbs you are collecting out here, on your own, at the cusp of midnight?”

You knew he had you there. No student was allowed in this part of the forest or indeed allowed to roam outside at night. In fact, no students were allowed out at all. And by your robes, he could easily tell you were still a student, that you belonged to the school nearby.

A man like him, working for the Dark Lord himself, would not let you go unpunished. He would either hand you back to the school, or he would dish out the punishment himself. But with his reputation for being a man who tortured his victims and made innocent people disappear, you had a feeling which one it would be. The others wouldn't get their herbs today. You had failed them. For a short moment, you wished one of the Carrow siblings had caught you on your way out instead.

“I-I will,” why was your voice trembling? Why did you stutter? Were you truly this scared of the legendary snatcher who was said to be more demon than man?

“Very cute all the stumbling,” the man interrupted you. “I don’t care what you came here to collect. All I care about is that you are being naughty. Being out here, on your own, late at night. There are all sorts of bad men prowling about. Hadn’t you noticed?”

You blinked, clearly confused by his words because he obviously was one of these bad men himself. Why else would he trod around wearing a demon’s mask, bare-chested, in the middle of the night? He was out here, hunting.

Did that mean that others were nearby? That you somehow had been unlucky enough to cross paths with the ones he was chasing. People the Dark Lord wanted to see dead.

“I-I am s-so sorry. The H-herb I needed only grows at night and I thought-" you lied.

“Hellebore Herb,” he interrupted, cutting you short yet again. Of course, he must have caught sight of it. You nodded, realizing that although you had been trying to hide it behind your back, there was some more Hellebore near your feet. It would have been an easy guess.

"Well, well” he muttered, and you watched as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. The way his jacket swayed about revealed a hairless stomach with trained abbs, slightly pudgy but you supposed that came with age.

“Are you a full or half-blood?"

Huh? It was a sensitive question, but you could guess why he would ask it. The Dark Lord wasn’t keen on anyone not considered pure. You could lie to him. You knew you should. But something about the glint behind the dark holes of eyes in the mask told you he already knew the answer.

"Neither,” you reluctantly admitted, hanging your head in defeat. The herb dropped from your hands, fingers outstretched behind your back. “Muggle-born," a reluctant whisper and most definitely a death sentence. To lie was folly; he would know. To think all your bravery and good intentions would end here, tonight. That your defiance would be squashed down by one man and an unlucky encounter. Fear danced along your nerves, yet you forced stillness upon your frame.

"Charming," he murmured, surprising you as he closed the gap between you. The brush of his fingertips against your hair sent an unwanted tingle down your neck. "I would love to take you home."

You stiffened, the words wrapping around you like chains. There was no mistaking the implication, the threat veiled as a compliment. He wanted to snatch you the way he had done so many others. But there was something else underneath, something thick with arousal.

His presence loomed, a specter of dread. His breath grazed your cheek, slipping out from underneath the mask as he studied you with a sidelong glance. You let him touch your hair, let him believe he held sway. Inside, your thoughts raced — plans, strategies, hopes all tangled in a desperate knot.

"Would anyone miss a sweet little muggle-born witch?" he cooed, playing with a lock of your hair. His closeness disgusted you, but you tried to use it to fool him. Your hand slipped into your robe, ever so carefully, and searched for your wand, mentally preparing to knock him back with a spell.

"Everyone is missed by someone," you replied, your voice steadier than you felt.

"Ah, but will they look for you?" The Grabber's tone was a taunt, a predator enjoying the quiver of his prey.

They would. They had to. Ginny and the others would notice if you didn’t come and deliver the herb. They would alarm the others, start a search for you, make sure your parents were informed. And then, the true search would start. No matter how influential the Dark Lord was, he couldn’t stop your loved ones from searching for you. They would, you just knew it. You were loved. You clutched your wand in your fist, preparing to attack.

"Let's find out," the moment the whisper reached your ears, his hand left your hair. You felt how his hand slipped into yours, disarming you by taking your wand. How had he known that you'd reached for it? That you held it? "You don't need that, little girl. Wands are for grown-ups," he teased, voice sing-song. And you silently fumed because you were an adult. Even if it hadn't been for that long. How belittling the man sounded, how he seemed to take pleasure in making you feel small. Then, his mask came closer again, forcing you to lean a little more backward.

"Run, little girl," the Grabber hissed, and without a second thought, you spun on your heels and you ran. With a twist of your body, you broke free from his grasp, feet pounding against the forest floor as you sprinted toward safety.

You could hear him, the laughter that bubbled up from his throat, rich and deep and terrifying.

"Run, little witch, run," he taunted, delight evident in each syllable. "I do so love a chase."

Branches whipped against your face, leaving hot, stinging trails in their wake. Your lungs burned with exertion, the distance between you and the safety of the school shrinking with every desperate stride.

You could reach it, you had to. At this point you didn’t even care if any of the guards spotted you and if they crucioed you until you wished you had never been born. Anything was better than this. Anyone was better than this man. This demon who you’d read about.

Kidnapping. Torture. Unethical spells.

If he got you, you’d never see the light of day again. You’d be done for. You'd die a horrid death.

The outline of the school loomed into view. Just a little further. You pushed yourself beyond your limits, limbs stretching, going faster than you ever had, before your freedom was snatched away. An arm snaked around your waist, making you tumble. His hands clamped over your mouth, stifling the scream that tried to escape. Together, you crashed into the underbrush, his chest, a wall of heat and hardness, pressed against your back. The scent of him enveloped you—earth and sweat and something darker, unnamable.

You fought to breathe, feeling the strain of his fingers against your lips, pushing tightly so they couldn’t even part. You tried to wiggle out of his grip but he only tightened it, hissing in your ear as something hard poked against your butt and you instantly came to a still, eyes wide open. That wasn’t…?

"Shhh," he hissed as a guard's lantern light flickered in the distance. "Not a sound."

You had no choice but to wait in his embrace, feeling his chest heave rapidly up and down behind you. His palm warm against your lips, his heart hammering against your spine. Sweat from his naked chest brushed against your robe.

The moment stretched, an eternity wrapped in seconds, until silence returned and the light of the lantern disappeared into the dimness of the night. Then he rose, pulling you with him, his grip ironclad and unyielding.

"Be silent. Don't make this difficult," he commanded, his hand was upon your arm, gripping you tight, as a wand was raised by the other. It took less than a second for you to realize what was about to happen, but you didn’t have time to counter his spell or try and get away.

You knew what came next—the sensation of being squeezed through an impossibly tiny space, the world blurring into darkness. Apparition. A forced journey to an unknown hell.

You now stood somewhere else, in someone’s living room by the sights of it, too busy taking in your surroundings to stop how the Grabber replaced his hand from your arm to your neck. The squeeze was painful, bringing tears to your eyes, and your hands darted up to try and alleviate his grip. But to no avail.

The man forced you to walk from the living room to the kitchen. Standing in front of a white door, you couldn’t distinguish the soft muttered words that were muffled by the mask, but it was clear he was using some kind of magic to unlock and open it.

A deep and dark room appeared, a staircase leading down to it. Like a basement full of concrete. Then he pushed you through the door.

The grip he had on your neck was firm enough that it became difficult to breathe, as he guided you down the stairs and into what seemed to be a grey and mostly empty room.

The basement was a tomb of dampness and decay. You were thrown onto a mattress that reeked of rot, each spring groaning in protest. He loomed over you, a shadow stripped of humanity.

"Let me have a look at you," he demanded, settling before you and reaching out without expecting an answer.

You felt like a trapped animal and tried to crawl away, but your robes obstructed your movements. And where would you go? There was only a wall behind you, the grey concrete looked chipped and filthy, but also sturdy. You’d need your wand to get out of here.

The man’s hands were already untying your robe, pushing the cloak aside at both sides. Fear twisted inside you, a serpent coiling tighter with every passing second. Veins were visible on the male’s hands. He must be an older man, you thought. And strong.

You tried to struggle and pushed your hands against his arms in an attempt to stop him. But he only stopped his movements to shush you, angling his mask your way before his hands slid past the fabric of your clothes once more.

"Yellow and black," he mused, fingering the edge of your school robe with a touch that was both reverent and mocking. "I always had a thing for Hufflepuffs... loyal, kind, innocent. Wouldn't harm a fly." His voice dripped with sarcasm even as his fingers delicately parted the fabric to reveal your uniform beneath.

You held your breath, trying to shrink away from his probing gaze, but here there was no safety for you. He leaned in closer, heat radiating from his body as you deliberately tried not to look at the bulge he was sporting in his pants. "But innocence is often just a facade... physically they are pure. But mentally," here he chuckled.

"Please..." The word escaped your lips as a whisper, a feeble attempt to preserve some dignity.

A low growl rumbled from the depths of his chest and his nails pressed into your skin as his grip on you became more bold. “I like it when you beg. Makes you look cute, honey.”

You whimpered sadly, realizing that begging wasn’t going to save your life.

"Quiet now," he murmured, his voice a velvet threat. "You won’t need this."

The robe was pushed down your shoulders without a fight.

"Shh," he hushed you, his fingers sliding up the sensitive flesh of your bare thigh, just above your stockings, causing an involuntary flinch.

His coarse fingertips traced dangerously close to your skirt now. You couldn’t help it. You weren’t a fighter like the Slytherins or Gryffindors were, but you had your boundaries. With a sharp movement, you brought your elbows down to harm the man, but the Grabber was quicker. He caught your wrists with just one hand. A sad realization that his hands were large and strong enough to subdue you. You wiggled ineffectively, feeling the grip around both your wrists tighten.

"Cute," he chuckled darkly, taking pleasure in the shiver that coursed through you.

"See," he breathed out, his hand venturing beneath the pleated skirt, touching you where no one had ever touched before. "You are going to love this." His words were poison, staining the rawness of the moment with vile certainty.

"Stop," you tried to command, but it came out as a whimper, your own body betraying you under his invasive touch.

His fingertips stroked past your covered folds, the crotch of your panties dampening with each intimidating stroke. The pressure was just right, pressing down tightly enough to stimulate your clit through the soft cotton layer until he had you squirming. Soft mewls escaped your lips instead of pleas while he still held your wrists up with one hand, making it impossible for you to fight him off or crawl away from his touch.

"Ah, there it is," he whispered triumphantly as his finger traced over your damp core. "Your mind's as filthy as they come, little witch."

Panic clawed at your insides, yet amidst the terror, a spark of rage ignited. You hated him, hated his touch, his violation of all you held sacred. You loathed the way he made you feel; exposed, vulnerable, and worst of all, responding despite yourself.

"Doesn't this prove your point?" you spat out with venomous defiance, despising the trembling of your own voice. You were wet, you could hear it now. You felt your nipples peak underneath the fabric of your blouse, their tips pressing through the layers of clothes you were still wearing. But you had no doubt he had caught sight of it.

“Who said I wanted to prove anything?”

For a moment the two of you sat in complete silence while his fingers still rubbed your clothed core. Slick sounds emerged from between your legs while the Grabber stared at you. Was he waiting for an answer?

You tried to control your breathing, thankful when he finally lowered his other hand and with it your wrists. Your arms were starting to feel sore. Yet, that didn’t distract you from the warmth that was slowly building up inside your core. A tight coil was inside your tummy, your legs started to tremble. Whatever function your panties were supposed to have was rendered nihil as he flicked and fondled your clit through the now-soaked-through piece of garment. The fabric clung to your folds, making it easier for him to brush his fingers and the cloth deeper inside, even being as bold as to try and dip a fingertip in until you moaned and thrashed against him.

You turned your head aside, unable to look at him and his devilish mask as an orgasm was rapidly approaching. Your body trembled under his touch as the finger pushed against your entrance once, twice. And then suddenly withdrew.

Shaking, you sat there, blinking confused before you turned your head to face him. Your body felt hot, between your legs, it was burning with desire. The orgasm was so near that you could feel the first tremors already racking through your body. But he had stopped on the cusp of it, withdrawn as a form of pure torture. Leaving you undone, a trembling and whimpering mess on the dirty pale mattress.

You looked up at him, cheeks red and eyes full of arousal. Even forgetting to lower your arms now that his hold on you was gone. Not that you wanted him to have sex with you, but you were the epitome of a woman on the cusp of ecstasy - eager to have your bodily desire fulfilled. You wanted to feel good. Your mind was now conflicted, torn between wanting him to finish and wanting him far away. You looked at him, flushed, eyes begging him to finish what he started. No wonder a low groan escaped him while he squeezed the bulge in his pants as he rose to stand tall again.

“So innocent,” was all he announced before trying to run a hand through his shoulder-length hair. It must be a habit, you realized, mind still hazy with lust, because the movement had no purpose. The man’s mask was clasped behind his head with several bands. His fingers couldn’t properly run through his hair, and he had to halt his movement and lower his arm again.

You smirked up at him, as if you’d just found out a secret about him.

If you could undo those clasps, you could see his face. If you could escape, you could pass that information to the others. He’d finally be an easy prey.

A sudden movement shook you out of your thoughts when he suddenly dipped his hand inside the pocket of his own jacket. Your wand slid out, the hand in which he held it still glistening in the dark from your juices.

"M-My wand," you whispered, the sound barely escaping your lips.

"Shhh, little Hufflepuff," he cooed mockingly before holding your wand up high, seemingly to study it.

And you finally propelled into action. Your wand was an extension of yourself, of your magic, and it shouldn't be in his possession. You scrambled onto your hands and knees in an attempt to jump up and snatch the wand out of his hands, even if he was that much larger and even if you probably couldn’t reach it when you jumped anyway. But you had to try it. You had to get it back.

Your wand was the only thing that could get you out safely.

The Grabber seemed to have predicated your move. It only needed a whisper of his lips, and you sat frozen.

“It works well,” he muttered, words muffled by the mask. And you had no choice but to watch as he lowered his arm. Your breath caught as his fingers, rough and calloused from years of unforgiving work, slipped into the pocket of his dark robes, taking with them your wand—your lifeline.

He patted the pocket of his jacket as if to taunt you, the jacket smacking against his hip as it still hung open to reveal his naked chest. You could see his belly roll with each deep breath taken. He was still aroused, taking delight in playing these games with you.

A whimper escaped your lips, unbidden, raw with the fear of helplessness.

"Isn't that just adorable," the Grabber mused, his voice a low rumble that resonated through the cavernous basement. You watched, heart pounding, as he prepared to leave, the satisfaction in his stride unmistakable. "Don't worry, pet. You won’t be needing that while you’re here."

You watched him as he made his way to the door. If only he hadn’t put that spell on you and you could still move… But as it was, all you could do was sit and watch as he carried your only hope for survival with him.

“I think I’ll just add your name to the list of deaths," the low husky murmur of the Grabber surprised you. It came unasked, just another way he was mentally manipulating you, you guessed. "No one’s gonna ask for you. But you know, future reference. In case anyone decides to start prowling,” he paused, turning his mask to face you from over his shoulder. “It'll just be another whoops. My hand slipped. Killed a pretty little girl out in the forest. Mud-blood witch. I had my orders.”

Anger raged inside of you, boiling under the frozen surface. You wished you could grit your teeth, curl your hands into fists, growl even. But you could do nothing.

He'd report you as another casualty, another life claimed by the darkness he served.

"It’s a cheap trick, but it works every time," he said casually. "Mostly had boys before you. This will be new." The implication hung heavy in the stale air, a sentence without an end, and it was suffocating.

Why? You wondered. Why not just kill them? Why take them home?

The Grabber paused, the mask changed direction until it almost looked like the demon grinned. "I like to play a game. Only with the cute ones though.”

Panic seized you and you felt like you suddenly couldn’t breathe. He hadn’t just read your mind, had he? Merlin, please don’t let him be a Legilimens.

The Grabber fully turned back to you, the demonic mask’s expression seemed to have changed. But surely, that must be your imagination. Or had he cast a spell on it?

“Want to know what it’s called?” he taunted. And you thought. No. No, I don’t want to know what the game is called.

But instantly after, a different voice inside your head said otherwise. What game did he play with his victims, you wondered?

You almost heard the smirk that was hidden underneath the mask. “Since you asked so nicely,” he murmured, confirming your fear that he was someone who could read minds.

“It’s called the naughty game.”

Then he smoothly turned on his heels while a thousand thoughts clouded your mind. You watched him, his back to you as he ascended the stairs, leaving you to contemplate the twisted rules of his game. What happens if you're naughty? you wondered, a desperate plea for some semblance of understanding.

He halted, his silhouette framed by the dim light at the top of the staircase.

"You lose," he answered, the words echoing ominously off the walls.

And with that, he disappeared from sight, leaving you alone with the chilling silence, your wet panties, and your racing thoughts. ~ AN: More? ~

~~ Support me on Ko-Fi - Masterlist - Request Box ~~

#Reader x The Grabber #Grabber x you #Grabber x reader #the grabber x reader #the grabber x hufflepuff reader #the grabber x hufflepuff student #the grabber #Black Phone #Harry Potter #albert shaw #Albert shaw x reader #albert shaw x you

153 notes · View notes

georgeweasleyslostearhq · 10 months ago

Text

THAT'S MY GIRLFRIEND?!

Pairings: George Weasley x Fem!reader Summary: you and George found Ron jerking off to you Warning: mention of jerking off. Note: requested by @lillisummers BASED IN OOTP

you sat between Fred and George at dinner as George poured you a cup of juice, he sat down and kissed your head before taking a sip of your cup

"ay, use your own cup" you whispered, trying to be quiet as the room fell silent

he smiled and looked forward, at harry, who's now holding the daily prophet

"he's been attacking dumbledore as well...fudge is using all his power, including his influence of the daily prophet to..smear anyone who claims the dark lord has returned" Sirius stated

your hold George's hand at the mention of the dark lord by instinct.

"why?" Harry asked

"the minister thinks dumbledore is after his job" Remus interjected, sitting in front of Harry

"but that's insane, no one in their right mind could believe that would of..." Harry began, being cut off by Remus

"exactly the point! fudge isn't in his right mind, it's been twisted and warped by fear" Remus nodded "now fear makes people do terrible things, Harry, the last time voldemort gained power, he almost destroyed everything we hold most dear..."

you looked over and George smiled sadly as he gave your hand a squeeze

you leaned into his side and closed your eyes, feeling his warmth

"now he's returned, and i'm afraid the minister will do almost everything to avoid facing that terrifying truth" Remus trailed off

"we think voldemort wants to build up his army again..fourteen years ago we had huge numbers at his command, and not just witches and wizards, but all manner of dark creatures. he's been recruiting heavily and we've been attempting to do the same, but gathering followers isn't the only thing interested in" Sirius explains

mad eye clears his throat, trying to make sirius stop talking, to which he doesn't

"we believe.." Sirius starts again, making Molly stop cutting the vegetables at the end of the table. you opened your eyes, feeling goosebumps form on your arms, having a chilling feeling

"voldemort may be after something" the long haired man said

"sirius" mad eye warned

"something he didn't have last time"

"you mean..like a weapon?" Harry questioned

Sirius opens his mouth to say more but Molly buts it

"no. that's enough, he's just a boy!" she exclaims, coming over to harry, taking the prophet away "say more and you might as well induct him into the oder straight away"

"good! i want to join. if voldemort's raising an army, then i want to fight!" Harry fought, making sirius clap his hands and lean back in his chair

"no, no, you've encouraged this sirius! it's not safe for him!" Molly scolded the Black

"is it just me or are you hungry too?" George whispered, taking your attention away from the adults

you looked at him and smiled "starving, what about you Fred? you hungry?" you looked over at Fred, who snickered

"why did mum bring us down for dinner when it wasn't even ready?" he wondered

"i was thinking the exact same thing" George huffed with a smile, throwing his arm over your shoulder before starting a conversation.

you looked at Fred but noticed Ron, sitting on the other side of him, staring at you.

though he didn't seem to notice you saw, as his eyes were focused a little lower. looking down at your chest.

you wouldn't say you were wearing a revealing shirt, but it did show a bit of cleavage

you raised your eyebrows at the boy as he finally looked up at your face

his eyes went wide as he realised you caught him and looked away, his face beet red

you shook your head and lifted the shirt up ever so slightly

Molly got fed up with Sirius and walked back to the food, ignoring him before angrily chopping the vegetables

"what did the broccoli do to her?" Fred joked quietly, making you and George snicker

George picked up your cup of juice and drank from it again making you sigh before slapping his chest

"drink from your own cup!" you sighed before leaning over taking his cup that has been left untouched but filled with juice and drinking from his cup

"oi don't drink from my cup" he huffed, trying to take it off you

"no, shove off, that's yours now, this is mine" you smile, moving the cup away, leaning away from him

"Fred get the juice off her" George pled, making Fred shake his head

"i'm not getting involved in your juice stealing" Fred leaned away

"ha!" you stuck your tongue out at George

"oh yeah? how about i pour the juice on you" he raised his eyebrow

you gasped and glared at him "you wouldn't!"

he smirked "i would"

he teasingly tipped his cup slightly, making you squeal

"shove off!" you giggled, leaning away, now leaning on Fred

"Fred help me!" you begged

"i'm not getting involved, but please don't get the juice on me" he chuckled

George leaned forward and teasingly tipped it again, messing with you "George, i swear to Merlin if you pour that on me" you squirmed as he wrapped his arm around you

"oh? what would you do?" he grinned

"i'll leave you" you stared at him warningy, but he didn't buy it one bit

"no you won't, you love me" he smiled innocently

"i do, but not right now" you whined

George gasped, faking hurt "wow"

"George, don't pour juice on her" Ron interjected

George leaned away from you and looked at his younger brother, sitting 3 down from him "aw, how sweet Y/n. ronikins here is looking out for you, he's on your side" George pouted at his brother, teasing him

you looked back at ron and found him staring at you again, making you feel weird, his eyes said something that made you feel a little..gross

you walked up the stairs hand in hand with George to talk to Harry, who had left the dinner table with Hermione ten minutes ago, probably to find Ron, who had left the dinner table well before them

"i think we just need to warn him s'all" George shrugged

"George, i think he already knows how dangerous it is, he's faced him before" you sighed, feeling sorry for Harry

"i know but he's still a kid" George huffed, walking to the first door to the left, Harry and Ron's room

"so are we" you tilted your head, not understanding his point

"but we're older, wiser" he smiled down at you

"oh you are anything but wise, George" you rolled your eyes, amused

"you're the best girlfriend, aren't you?"

"i like to think so" you grinned happily

George shook his head and opened the door, still holding your hand.

you looked up as George go ready to greet Harry- although, Harry wasn't there at all.

instead of the Potter boy, the youngest Weasley boy was sat on his bed, pants down to the knees as he pumped his cock at a fast pace, moaning as his head was thrown back in pleasure, clearly not noticing your presence

you quickly let go of George's hand and covered your eyes, turning around, trying to leave the room

"o-oh Y/n.." you heard Ron grunt, the sound of squelching getting louder

"what the hell?" George cursed in shock as you walked in to a wall on your way out, trying to get the image of a half naked Ron, jerking off

you heard Ron scream and shuffling of the covers

"what the hell! get out!?" ron yelled

you groaned in pain from headbutting a wall and turned around, reaching one hand for George, eyes still closed

George saw you reaching out and grabbed onto your waist, pulling you close to him

"were you seriously just jerking off to Y/n?" George asked, just as shocked as you were

"n-no" Ron stuttered

you peeked, seeing Ron fully covered by his blankets, his face as red as his hair

"We clearly heard you say her name" George frowned

"Whatever! Just leave!" Ron begged.

"You were wanking off to my girlfriend! That's your future sister in law dude! That's disgusting!" George exclaimed. Still in horror

Ron stayed silent. Feeling beyond embarrassed

"I mean come on. That's my girlfriend!" George scoffed

"I'm sorry!" Ron cried out.

You stood there in George's arms, Feeling a little uncomfortable

"Don't say sorry to me. Say sorry to her!"

Ron looked down. Not wanting to make eye contact with you

"I'm sorry" he sighed

"Now you're going to treat her with respect and if I catch you even looking at her the wrong way. Out come the spiders. Everywhere. I'm talking in your draws. Bed. Trunk, and on your face" George said sternly, making Ron nod vigorously. Still looking down

"Good" George scoffed before letting you go and taking you hand

"C'mon babe" he walks towards the door. Leading you out of the room

Once he shut the door. You looked at him and raised an eyebrow

"Future sister in law? What are you insinuating there, Weasley?" You smirked

"I think you know" he grins

"Oh yeah? It sounds like someone is planning on marrying me" you hugged him

"Oh shush. Now. Do you wanna go bleach your eyes?" He asked

"Oh yes please" you nodded happily

‐‐---------------------------------------------------------

#imagines #fluff #oneshot #x fem!reader #george weasley #oliver phelps #george weasley x fem #fred weasley #fred and george #ron weasley #hp imagines #requests #feel free to request #george weasley headcanons #hp fanfic

319 notes · View notes

hjparisian · 1 year ago

Text

always yours-harry j potter x reader

p: harry j potter x fem! reader w: TW !!! toxic relationship, abuse, fluff ending, cussing, not proof read summary: harry and (y/n) come across each other a bit after the war and reconnect. a/n: another request from a lovely follower! so sorry this is so late. i haven't had motivation to write and couldn't figure out what to even write. if any of you guys are in an abusive relationship, please try to reach out to someone! i know it's better said than done but you all deserve the best.

The light breeze felt perfect to (Y/N). It was her day off of work from the Ministry today, so (Y/N) decided to use this day for herself to relax. Merlin knows that her work and her boyfriend has her feeling drained.

(Y/N) had just exited Flourish and Blotts, nose in one of the new books she bought. Her focus was disrupted when she bumped into a large figure, making her drop her book.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry, I should've been looking where I was going," (Y/N) said to the person as she went to pick up her book but someone else grabbed it first.

"Oh it's alright, no worries," a familiar voice said to her.

(Y/N) looked up to the person handing her her book back.

"Wait, H-Harry?"

"(Y/N)?"

The girl was in shock. In front of her was her old friend and former crush, Harry Potter. The last time they've seen each other was at the Battle of Hogwarts. Though she had returned to Hogwarts for her eighth year, Harry did not.

"What are you doing here?" (Y/N) asked the man.

"I was just grabbing some stuff for school."

"School?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "I'm teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts."

"That's amazing Harry!" (Y/N) said to him. "I mean you were the best at the class. Plus you were such an amazing teacher when you taught Dumbledore's Army so it doesn't surprise me."

"Thanks, (Y/N). And what are you doing?"

"Oh, I just came from Flourish and Blotts. It's my day off from the Ministry and I was looking for new books."

"Well," Harry says. "What else do you have planned for today?"

"Honestly, nothing else."

"Do you want to come over to my place?" Harry asked her. "I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to. I was just hoping we could catch up maybe?"

"I would love to," (Y/N) said without a second thought.

Harry and (Y/N) exited the Leaky Cauldron and apparated to Harry's place. It was an apartment not too far from London. Harry unlocked the door and let (Y/N) enter.

It was a rather simple but clean apartment. There were a couple photos on the walls from Harry's years at Hogwarts. One that caught (Y/N)'s eye was a picture of Dumbledore's Army during their fifth year. Harry was in the middle of the photo and (Y/N) somehow had a spot right next to Harry.

"Bring back memories, huh?" Harry said as he stood behind her.

"Yeah. I still remember the first meeting." (Y/N) said. "I wanted to punch Zacharias in the face."

Harry laughed at your comment. "Me too, but he did come around."

Harry guided (Y/N) to the couch in his living room.

"Did you want anything to drink?" Harry asked her. "I got water, butterbeer, firewhiskey."

"Some butterbeer please."

Harry left to the kitchen and returned with two bottles of butter beer, handing one to (Y/N).

"So, how are Hermione and Ron?"

"They're good. They got engaged recently."

"Really?" (Y/N) said in awe. "That's wonderful! I remember talking with Hermione about Ron back in sixth year. Finally got her to admit her feelings for him."

Harry nodded his head, grinning at the memories. "They were both too stubborn to realize it."

(Y/N) nodded before taking a sip of the butterbeer. "What about you Harry? You were with Ginny last I heard."

"I was but not anymore." (Y/N) had a shocked look on her face. "We broke up a while back."

"Really? And Ron hasn't killed you?" (Y/N) asked.

Harry chuckled a bit. "It was actually Ginny who ended it. It was mutual so no bad blood between us."

"That's good then."

A question had been burning on the back of Harry's mind. Thankfully, they were on the topic of it.

"What about you? Are you with anyone?"

(Y/N) set down the bottle she was holding before she answered. "I am actually."

Harry felt his heart drop a bit. "Who is it?"

(Y/N) started messing with the hem of her top, feeling a bit nervous. "Do you remember Cormac McLaggen? He tried out for keeper our sixth year."

For some reason, Harry felt his heart crumble a bit. That bloke Cormac is with (Y/N)? Those two couldn't be anymore different. How could that troll earn her love?

"Harry?"

(Y/N)'s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Are you alright Harry? You were zoning out a bit," (Y/N) pointed out.

"Oh, yeah I'm fine. I remember him, bit of a jerk from what I remember in sixth year." Harry said. "Is Cormac good to you?"

(Y/N) avoided eye contact and kept messing with her shirt. "Oh yeah. I mean we have a few arguments here and there, but he means well. Do you mind bringing another bottle of butterbeer please?"

Harry nodded before getting up to the kitchen again. He didn't necessarily believe (Y/N), but he wasn't going to prod on their relationship.

The two had been enjoying reconnecting. Harry told (Y/N) stories from his first year teaching at Hogwarts, one including how a third year girl sent him a singing card on Valentine's Day. (Y/N) also told Harry about her job at the Ministry and how her coworker spilt coffee on Kingsley Shacklebolt's robes.

(Y/N) looked at the clock on the nearby wall to see that it was a quarter past twelve am. She couldn't believe that she's been talking to Harry for this long. She had to get home.

"Hey Harry, I have to get going," (Y/N) told the man sitting next to her.

Harry looked at the clock to also see how late it was. "Oh, sorry. I didn't realize the time."

"It's quite alright Harry, I had a wonderful time with you anyways."

"Will you be apparating home?" Harry asks her. "Don't want you to head home by yourself if you aren't."

"Yes, I am. You don't need to worry," she said to him. "Besides, I know a few spells thanks to a certain Gryffindor."

Harry smiled a bit, knowing she was referring to him.

"I'll see you later Harry," (Y/N) said while handing him a paper.

The girl disapperated, returning to her home.

Harry unfolded the paper, which revealed some numbers. It was (Y/N)'s phone number. Right under it, she left a small message.

Call me! :)

The next morning, (Y/N) woke up to hearing noises coming from the kitchen. She put on a sweater and walked out to find her boyfriend Cormac cooking.

"Good morning," he said to her.

"Morning," she said.

"Thought I'd make us breakfast before you go to work," said Cormac. "Also where were you last night? You got home pretty late."

"I was catching up with an old friend."

Cormac hummed before asking her the dreaded question. "Who?"

"Oh it's no one special," she nervously said.

Cormac raised an eyebrow at her before asking again. "Who were you with, (Y/N)?"

(Y/N) cleared her throat before speaking. "Harry."

"Potter?"

"Yeah him."

(Y/N) looked at her boyfriend, seeing a look of resentment in his eyes.

"I never really liked that bloke." Cormac said while handing (Y/N) her plate. "Gave the keeper spot to Weasley just because that's his best friend."

(Y/N) just nodded, not wanting to say anything to make Cormac upset.

The two ate until (Y/N) had to go to work. While heading to work, (Y/N) felt her phone buzz. She saw it was a number she didn't recognize, but the back of her mind was hoping it was a certain boy.

(Y/N) took chance and answered it. "Hello?"

"Hello?" A familiar voice said. "Is this (Y/N)?"

(Y/N) laughed a bit before responding. "Yes it is."

"Oh good. It's Harry."

"I know," (Y/N) said, smiling. "I recognized your voice."

"Ah yeah," Harry said. "How are you?"

"Good. Just heading to work."

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize. I can call later."

(Y/N) felt herself smiling more.

"No it's alright! I have time. Besides, it makes the travel to work less lonely."

And so began a new routine of Harry calling her on her way to work. Which then went into them calling each other after work. On nights Cormac was away, Harry and (Y/N) would call each other.

Harry and (Y/N) began seeing each other more in person too. He'd join her on trips to Diagon Alley for more books or to grab a bite after a long day of work.

This change did not go by unnoticed by Cormac, though. He noticed how distracted she became, how she smiled at her phone more, how she left for work earlier and came back later, how she'd go out more.

The boy had enough.

One day, when (Y/N) had returned from work late, Cormac was sitting in her living room, waiting for her arrival.

"Oh! Didn't know you were here Cormac, I thought you wouldn't get home 'til later," the girl said upon noticing her boyfriend on her couch.

"Where were you?" The boy asked her.

Cormac had gotten up and walked towards her, glaring at her.

(Y/N) had begun to feel a bit nervous, knowing Cormac wouldn't like the reason she had returned late.

"I-I was at work," (Y/N) stammered out.

"What about after work?" Cormac questioned her. "Where did you go?"

"Just went to grab a bite."

Cormac began pestering her. "With who? You had to have been with someone if you've taken this long."

(Y/N) felt herself starting to shake. She had never enjoyed when Cormac began to act like this, knowing he was getting angry and a bit emotional.

"I was just out with a friend," she meekly said.

"I wanna know who you were with (Y/N)."

"It was just a friend, Cormac."

"Don't bullshit me. Was it with Potter?"

(Y/N)'s hesitation was all Cormac needed to get his answer.

"It was with Potter, wasn't it."

(Y/N) couldn't lie to him, knowing he figured her out. She nodded.

"Yes, but he's just a friend."

Cormac laughed at her. "Oh really, (Y/N)? Doesn't look like it to me. All those days you came home late, were on the phone for hours. Probably all with fucking Potter. Wouldn't be surprised if you went and shagged him."

--TW description of physical abuse--

"Cormac, I didn't shag him! We were just reconnecting, that's all. Please let's just tal-"

A loud smack echoed through the room.

Cormac had hit her.

"Shut up you bitch!"

Tears welled up in (Y/N)'s face. Cormac took noticed of this and began laughing at her.

"You're crying?" The boy shoved her against the wall. "What if I give you something to actually cry about?"

"Cormac, stop!" (Y/N) sobbed.

He let go of her and let her drop to the ground. (Y/N) had begun sobbing loudly, hyperventilating.

"Get out (Y/N)! Go to your fucking boyfriend Potter for all I care." Cormac screamed at her.

--TW end--

(Y/N) had pushed herself up and got out the door before Cormac slammed it behind her. She decided to use her strength to apparate to the only person that could help her.

She knocked on the door and waited a second before it opened to reveal her former schoolmate.

Harry stared at her before bringing her inside and embracing her. She flinched, but began melting into his embrace after telling herself that it's just Harry.

"I just need to know," Harry began. "Did Cormac do this to you?"

(Y/N) just nodded, not wanting to speak.

Harry felt himself become angry. How could Cormac do this to her? She was an angel, unlike that asshole. He never deserved her. But did Harry himself deserved (Y/N)? He couldn't protect her, keep her safe. This could've been avoided if Harry was with (Y/N).

He couldn't think about that now when (Y/N) was in his arms needing care. He brought the girl to his bathroom, doing his best to try and tend the bruises that littered her skin. Harry drew a bath and brought a change of clothes for (Y/N).

"I'll be right outside, I promise." He told her. "I'll have to finish checking your bruises when your done."

Once (Y/N) decided to get out of the bath half an hour later, Harry made sure he didn't miss any other injuries before bringing her to his bed. He was just going to let her rest until a hand grabs his.

"Don't leave. Please."

Harry would always listen to (Y/N).

The boy stayed with her until sleep finally took over. As much as Harry wanted to stay with her, he had business to take care of.

Thankfully, he remembered where (Y/N) lived after dropping her off multiple times so he apparated in the night to her door. He banged on the door hard until it opened, revealing his new worst enemy.

"What do you want Potter? (Y/N) isn't here."

"Oh I know." Harry told Cormac. "Just came for a chat."

Harry stepped forward in an attempt to enter the house until Cormac stopped him.

"I'm busy right now."

"Well I guess I can try to make this quick," Harry said.

A punch was thrown at the older wizard, catching him off guard. Harry grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pushed them into the apartment, shoving him up against the nearest wall.

"I know what you did to (Y/N), McLaggen. How dare you hurt her!" Harry screamed at him.

"I didn't do such thing." Another punch was thrown.

"Don't you dare lie to me! I know you did it. You hurt her! You never deserved her."

"Oh but you think you do?" Cormac scoffed at Harry, while trying to push him off.

"I would've treated her way better than you ever have."

"You want a slut like her? You're pathetic Potter."

Those words had enraged Harry more than ever. The two continued fighting, Harry having the upper hand. One more punch landed on Cormac before he fell to the floor.

"You better stay away from (Y/N). If I hear that you stepped one foot near her I won't hesitate to punch you again," Harry spat at him before making his leave back to his home.

Harry headed for his room, wanting to make sure that the girl he loves was still there. Fortunately, she was, but she was awake.

"Where did you go Harry? I was getting worried."

"I just went to take care of something," he said, trying to reassure her.

"What do you need to take care of at this time?" (Y/N) said while walking toward him.

A small gasp slipped her month before her hand made contact with his cheek. Harry would be lying if he said it didn't feel nice.

"You're hurt Harry!" (Y/N) exclaimed before dragging him to his bathroom.

"(Y/N) love, I'm fine." He kind of wasn't. Harry looked at his reflection in the mirror and saw the marks Cormac apparently left him. He was too focused on getting vengeance for (Y/N) that he ignored it.

(Y/N) began cleaning his face. "Harry, you have dried blood on your face. I don't think that's considered fine. What were you doing?"

"If I tell you, you have to promise you won't be upset," Harry said to her.

"What?" (Y/N) paused, confused.

"Just promise me."

"Fine. I promise I won't get upset."

"Alright, well," Harry began. The adrenaline was gone and he began feeling nervous. "I went to visit Cormac at your guys apartment."

"You went to see Cormac?" (Y/N) squeaked. "Why would you do that Harry?"

"I couldn't stand what he did to you (Y/N). He hurt you. You didn't deserve what he did. I had to teach him a lesson."

"So you went to beat each other up?"

"Well, him more so than me," Harry joked.

"Why? Why would you beat him up for me?"

"Because (Y/N). I love you."

(Y/N)'s eyes widen in shock. "W-what?"

"I love you. And I think I always have. Seeing you brought back those feelings I've had back when we were at Hogwarts. I would do anything to protect you (Y/N)."

"Oh Harry," tears welled up in (Y/N)'s eyes.

Harry noticed and got a little bit worried. "It's alright if you don't feel the same way. I know you just had to deal with Cormac so-"

Arms wrapped around him and lips met his. Harry froze for a second before melting into it, gently placing his hands on her waist.

(Y/N) was the first to break the kiss, to respond to Harry's declaration of love to her.

"I love you too, Harry."

(Y/N) finished cleaning up Harry before heading back to his bed. His arms wrapped around her, keeping her warm and safe.

"I promise to protect you no matter what," Harry said to her. "I would do anything for you."

"And I will do the same for you, because you're mine."

"And I will always be yours."

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry james potter #harry james potter x reader #hjp x reader #hjp #hp fanfic #hp imagine #harry potter x fem!reader #harry

181 notes · View notes

dragonfly0808 · 1 year ago

Text

That girly urge to drop everything and write a 50k Harry Potter fanfic about Draco running away from home post 4th year and being scared and all alone and somehow running into Sirius who sees a young boy fending for himself after realizing his family are not good people and seeing himself and thus taking him in and letting him stay at Grimmauld Place despite protests because “He’s my nephew, he may have made mistakes but he’s also 15 and doesn’t deserve to be on his own fuck off”

That urge to write about him being oh so awkward with Ron and Hermione but still forming a begrudging, tentative friendship but it isn’t until he goes on an errand with Hermione to the muggle world and finding out about muggle hair dye and deciding to dye his hair to distance himself from the Malfoy name that Hermione decides to help him and whilst dying his hair Draco just spills his guts and apologizes to her for everything and admits that he was an ass and that he doesn’t want to be that anymore and that’s when their friendship begins for real

And immediately after that Ron also softens a bit and they start getting along just a tiny bit more.

He and Hermione somehow become besties though neither will admit it, like, they’ll be up at 2am arguing over their potions textbooks and Ron is just like ‘oh god there’s two of them now’ before getting them to take breaks and eat and teasing both of them.

Draco truly looking up to Sirius, who is just proud of him for being able to see his past mistakes and they’re just… UGH

That urge to write about Harry finally making it to Grimmauld Place and thinking he must’ve hit his head when he sees Draco standing behind Hermione and Ron, leaning against the door with slightly washed out light blue hair and a soft sweater

Harry being so confused when Hermione and Ron both vouch for Draco. Harry nearly passing out when Draco apologizes to him before anything else can happen and he looks so good in those hand me down sweaters WHAT IS HAPPENING?!

Them going back to Hogwarts, Draco, Hermione and Ron together as prefects.

Draco wondering where to sit during the first day since he’s not sure if his friends will want him anymore just for Ron to call out ‘Oi Malfoy, where you going?’ When he’s resigned to eat outside

Him and Harry bonding in Potions class, mainly laughing at Snape’s reaction to see Draco’s newly dyed pink hair that Umbridge nearly expells him for

And before you know it the Golden Trio has become the Golden Quartet and Harry spends most of his time trying to figure out why his heart does backflips every time he sees Draco smile or laugh at lunch

Then Dumbledore’s Army starts and Draco is Harry’s right hand man, helping him with what lessons to give and working as a double agent since he still lives in the Slytherin dorm he helps with avoiding the Inquisitorial Squad and even gets new members from Slytherin.

The urge to write about Draco and Harry spending so much time together figuring out what to teach next and how to make the lessons easier and Draco being so soft with Harry and letting his guard down and Harry opening up about his anger and Draco nearly murdering Umbrige when he finds out about the ‘I mustn’t tell lies’ thing

Ron talking about Hermione, wondering if maybe she has a crush on someone and Draco just staring and going ‘Weasley… you’re an idiot’ (with love)

Draco and Hermione being so competitive but also always studying together and Draco trying to get Hermione to make a move on Ron because ‘It’s so obvious it’s painful! I could tell from two tables away how you two drool for each other!’ Because Harry is so adamant about not getting involved in that mess. Just- Draco and Hermione being besties and platonic soulmates

The urge to write Draco and Harry staying in the Room of Requirements after the Army leaves and just hanging out and Harry being so weirdly happy because Draco never expects him to be the ‘Chosen One’ or a Dark Arts master or even calm and rational, he just expects him to be… Harry… even if that means dealing with his swing moods every once in a while

Harry writing to Sirius about feeling oh so confused and not knowing what to do and Sirius just being so amused and trading glances with Remus like, ‘…this boy is so dumb’

All four spending Christmas together and Draco is totally not crying when he gets his own Weasley sweater what are you talking about? And the trio crushes him into a hug to tease/comfort him. And well if Ron and Hermione wind up under the mistletoe and/or locked in a closet and the twins hand Draco a few coins well whose to say that was anything but a coincidence?

Harry not being able to concentrate as a seeker cause Malfoy dyed his hair a violet that makes his cheekbones pop out and his eyes look so pretty and FUUUUCCCCKKKK

Umbridge cornering Draco and trying to get info out of him and threatening him and trying to make him think that there’s no way Harry forgave him and that he’s just using him but Draco doesn’t care because being used by Harry would be better than being manipulated by his family Draco begrudingly admitting what happened when the Trio can tell he’s upset and all of them nearly killing Umbridge and affirming that they’re friends against all odds and that they wouldn’t trade him for anything, Draco dying his hair red in honor of that conversation

After a particularly bad Occlumency lesson with Snape, Harry sneaks out and finds Draco at the lake and they just talk and maybe just maybe Harry can’t help but kiss him because he just wants one good thing and- AAAAAHHHH

Anyways… yeah… the girly urge jeje

Might do it someday who knows, go back to my roots as an HP fanfic writer

#harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry #draco x harry #draco deserved better #draco and hermione #draco and ron

275 notes · View notes

cherryslyce · 2 years ago

Text

Second Son (III) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: The school year begins and all seems lost when Undersecretary Umbridge is assigned as the new DADA professor. That is until Hermione and Ron approach Harry and Y/N with the idea to form Dumbledore's Army (Regulus disapproves, naturally).

Part II / Part IV / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: Cursing, Not Canon Compliant

The talk with Sirius and Co. was tiresome. Actually, talk was a lenient way to put it, it was much more of an interrogation. Apparently, Sirius and Kreacher got into a spat (what a surprise) and the house elf let it slip that you had "found Master Regulus".

Hermione and Ron tried to dissuade Sirius from making it into a big deal, but alas they were unsuccessful (not to mention they wanted answers as well).

Luckily, Sirius had very little faith in Kreacher and you only told him that you found old photos of Regulus, and Kreacher happened to stumble upon your discovery.

Kreacher was very willing to corroborate your story in order to get back in your--Regulus‘, good graces.

For now, your explanation satisfied the others, but you knew that Harry had an idea that there was more to the story than you were letting on. Fortunately, Harry had always been a loyal friend and he wouldn't push you to tell him anything if you didn't want to.

It seemed you had a penchant for finding reliable friends.

Regulus was displeased with the turn of events and looked ready to scold a mournful Kreacher, but opted to just let out a disgruntled sigh.

"It doesn't matter anymore, I knew you'd be able to take care of it." Was what he told you after Kreacher left with a grateful cry.

Summer receded off the coast and autumn began to roll onto London, first painting the trees in kaleidoscopes of oranges before bringing tides of cool wind.

Your fifth year at Hogwarts was about to kick off and you were practically bouncing around at the prospect of being able to bring Regulus with you.

"Harry's hearing went just as I presumed it would."

"Oh? Looking to take up a post as Hogwarts Divination Professor, Reg?"

The boy merely rolled his eyes, deciding to grace you with the gift of an answer despite your smart mouth.

"It was obvious that Fudge would aim to discredit Harry. But, Dumbledore is quite the political force, and many are still willing to side with Harry even if they think he's lying about the Dark Lord. Harry may not feel it though. Bad press will always stand louder than uncertain support."

Ever the intellect.

"I guess so. Harry's still riled about it, but there's not much he can do since he was cleared of his charges. Merlin forbid he was expelled. I can't even imagine how dismal Hogwarts would be without everyone's favorite lion."

You continued to pack away your textbooks in your school trunk, murmuring tiredly under your breath at the idea of the inevitable increase in workload and the studying for O.W.L's.

"Are you excited?"

"Reg, you do understand that we face a new threat every single year, correct? Of course I'm excited."

There was no sarcasm in your tone, and you were being completely honest. Threats to your life would only serve to teach you further about the constraints and possibilities of magic. After all, you were certain the Dark Lord would stop at nothing until you were all dead, so you might as well learn as much as you can in the meantime.

"Just be cautious."

"Are you getting soft on me, Reggie? If you keep going I might think you actually care for me."

"Don't be daft, you know how I feel. Now, don't forget about the pouch I gave you."

You weren't going to antagonize him because you were almost certain he did care for you, but you weren't sure if you'd live long enough for him to actually tell you.

Reaching for the emerald green pouch laid atop your bed, you eagerly pulled it open. You never got the chance to examine its contents due to being interrogated by Sirius, but you were sure it was something important because of Regulus‘ insistence that you take it with you.

Reaching inside, you feel around the velvet interior until you feel something cool press against your fingertips.

Pulling it out, you gape as you realized it was a ring. A thick silver band with two snakes wrapping around it.

"Reg?"

"It's a gift. It was the ring I usually wore around in my youth. It's charmed to heat up when someone tries to use legilimency on you or when you're near poison. It served me well, now it will help you."

You twirl the band around your fingers and a small smile paints your lips as you try to suppress the burning in your eyes.

"Thank you Reg. I'm touched that you trust me so much with your possessions. I guess now I really have no excuse if I die."

"Exactly. So try your best--no, you have to live." His eyes were hard with conviction before they softened again when you nodded, "Good. You should put it on later, Sirius will definitely recognize it."

You couldn't find it in yourself to move on from Regulus‘ gift, even now as you were weaving around people.

The ring pressed gently against your chest as you walked with Harry down King's Cross, your new precious item was hidden away underneath your shirt on a necklace chain.

Regulus was tucked away inside your jacket like usual, the rectangular frame occasionally hitting against your ribs as you moved.

Sirius was paces away in his animagus form, too reluctant to let Harry leave with a simple goodbye at the door. You were happy that Harry had such a supportive adult figure in his life, but a part of you couldn't help but want him to leave quickly so you could slip on the ring.

The dog-man quickly trotted into an empty seating room, Harry leaving your side to talk to his godfather. As Moody and Tonks guarded the doorway of the room, you opted to give the aurors a brief nod before making your way to the platform first.

You admired them both to a varying degree, but you couldn't quite warm up to Moody after your Fourth Year debacle with his death eater imposter.

It was still hard to get the image of him, or rather the image of polyjuice him, making Neville uncomfortable in class.

Navigating your way around the swarm of people, soon you found yourself on the familiar platform.

Reaching into your shirt, you pulled out your necklace chain, twirling it around your neck before unclasping it and sliding Regulus‘ ring out.

It was a pretty thing, and you found yourself imagining the two snakes on the band as you and Regulus.

Propping your trunk up against one of the brick pillars, you fix your necklace before slipping the ring onto your left index finger, spelling it to fit you.

Thank merlin for magic.

Raising your hand up towards the sky, you observe the way the sunlight reflects off the silver. As you continued to admire it, you realized that someone's stopped beside you.

"Merlin! Harry?!"

The boy in question jumps at your exclamation, the distant look in his eyes being drowned out by realization. It was apparent that he was only present enough to recognize you in the crowd, but too lost in thought to realize what was going on.

"Oh, sorry. Should we board now?"

Without waiting for an answer, he reaches behind you and lugs your trunk behind him, starting to get lost in his head again as he walks towards the train.

As the both of you sit and wait for Hermione and Ron, he wordlessly reaches into his pocket, pulling out a folded photo. He hands it to you with a forlorn look in his eyes, watching as you carefully unfold the paper.

Are those?

As if reading your thoughts, he supplies you with a quiet answer, "My parents. And the Order."

"Fuck. From Sirius?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck."

Running your finger over the smiling faces of Lily and James Potter, you send a silent thank you for their sacrifice.

Your concern for Harry only ceased once you arrived at the castle.

Sitting down in the dining hall brought a surge of serotonin through your body. It was the closest thing you had to a home and being able to greet the cold walls and aged windows after every summer brought you great joy.

Looking in Harry's direction, you frown in concern as you see him eyeing the staff table in shock. Your confusion is swept away as a high-pitched voice cuts through Dumbledore's welcome speech.

A woman who was strangely reminiscent of a toad carefully made her way around the table and towards Dumbledore. From the way Harry began to furiously whisper to Hermione, you were certain that she was the reason for his sudden change in behavior.

Dumbledore and Snape looked faintly displeased with her interruption and your eyes started to hurt from the abomination of pink monotone that made her stand out.

You had an unfortunate feeling that the source of your fifth year misery had arrived.

And you were correct. Of course.

It had only been a week into your classes and you were seething violently, much like the rest of your friends.

"And do you know what she said Reggie?"

"What?" He mused in curiosity, his eyes alight at your foreign frustration.

"We're only going to be learning the theories! Because apparently if we know the theories well enough, the application of spells will just magically come to us!"

Your hands were flying around wildly as you recalled her words, your body bouncing around on your bed due to your gestures.

Regulus chuckled at your despair, eyes twinkling brightly like he had just received the best news of his life.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it off. I'm glad my misery is enjoyable to you, but I'm being serious! I just don't know what we should do! The DADA curse is really screwing us over here."

Seeming to take pity on your genuine distress, he begins to placate you, "Y/N, it's fine. I'll teach you if you want. Just tell me what spells and theories you're covering and I'll guide you."

Oh?

The grin that stretches across your face almost hurts and you fall back onto your bed, letting his offer run around your head with a content sigh.

"Y/N? Have you died?"

"Still here." Your answer comes out muffled as you bring your hand to cover your bright smile.

"Don't seem too happy, I'm a strict teacher."

"Yeah, yeah. Reg. I could kiss you right now! Seriously, thank you, you're too good to me."

Regulus doesn't respond to your words and he was sure that you weren't even aware of what you were saying, but he was glad you couldn't hear the way his heart was racing.

"No matter, just get some sleep."

"Hm? What will you do then? It's still pretty early."

"I'll just watch over you like always. Prop me up on your nightstand would you, I want to see outside."

"Yes, yes. Anything else you require my liege?" Your teasing is met with a deadpan look as you carefully rest his portrait frame against the stack of books on your nightstand.

"Y/N, sleep."

You let out an indignant huff and turn your body towards your bedside, facing Regulus as he begins to gaze outside your dorm window. Luckily, your nightstand was on the far end of the dorm room and would be out of view from anyone coming through.

"Goodnight, Reg."

"Sweet dreams, Y/N."

Luckily, slumber came quickly that night.

You should have known that your brief period of rest would soon be interrupted. It was basically the first warning that came attached to being involved with the Golden Trio. You just didn't realize that your peace would be disturbed the very next day.

"Are you positive that this is a great idea?"

"If Umbridge refuses to teach us, we need someone who will."

You stare at Hermione in consideration, "And that person is Harry?"

She nods confidently, her eyes blazing in determination. Clearly, they were going to move forward with this plan whether or not you were in.

"Okay. So Hog's Head then?"

"Yes. We can't possibly manage to keep this under wraps inside the castle walls. We'll come by and get you tomorrow."

"Merlin ‘Mione. I hope that this turns out well. For all of our sakes."

"It has to. Sirius said it himself, You Know Who is on the move."

Bloody Dark Lord and his murderous agenda spoiling your years of childhood.

There wasn't much that needed to be said after that and you both bid each other a quick farewell. You quickly headed to your dorm and let out a sigh of relief to see the room empty.

Plopping down on your bed, you flip open the charms textbook Regulus recommended, eyes darting around for a possible communication charm.

This was going to take forever, might as well get some help.

Fishing around your robes, you pull out Regulus‘ portrait and beam down at his unimpressed face.

"There's no way you're actually considering running along with that ragtag defense club now, are you?" Isn't he just pleasant today.

"Nice to see you too, Reg. Hermione's idea sounds interesting enough, besides friends need to support each other's endeavors."

Regulus looked like he was a few moments away from releasing a snort, but just shook his head. His neat curls jumped around his face and you had to stop yourself from getting too entranced by the sight.

"I suppose that makes sense, after all I would do the same for you. Though, you are already learning from me, no?" Regulus‘ words made your heart skip a beat, but you tried your best to play it off.

"Yes, and as much as I love Harry, you will always be my number one teacher." He looked all too pleased by your words and you shook your head fondly, "Don't let it get to your head though. Now, let's read through this book together, shall we?"

And as you both read through the pages of the book, you couldn't help but selfishly want more. You couldn't help but wonder how different everything would be if Regulus wasn't a portrait, but rather alive and well and attending Hogwarts with you.

It just added to your fury towards Voldemort. He had taken enough from the world, and you couldn't wait to drive a curse through him and live the rest of your life in peace.

tag list: @krazyk99 @venomsvl @valsarchives @bunny24sstuff @novella12nite

#regulus black #regulus black x reader #regulus black imagine #regulus black imagines #regulus black fluff #regulus x reader #regulus black scenario #regulus black deserved better #regulus black series #harry potter series #harry potter and the order of the phoenix #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #regulus black fanfiction #the noble house of black #sirius black #hermione granger #ronald weasley

1K notes · View notes