#eventual harry x Ginny

[xxlittle0birdxx]

Ginny contemplated the earrings sitting on the seldom-used desk in her bedroom. A simple thank you would have sufficed. The petty part of her had enjoyed hexing Harry's former girlfriend. Some people needed to learn to take no for an answer. She held one up to an ear, and studied her reflection in the mirror. She hated to admit it, but Harry was right. She much preferred them to a stodgy, prosaic bouquet of flowers. Before she could talk herself out of it, she pulled open the desk drawer and withdrew a sheet of parchment, then rummaged for a suitable quill.

[albaskies]

hehe i loved your short hinny fic!! it was soo great!! ❤️❤️❤️ can you please write another hinny fic, maybe hbp and include lots of yearning from harry 🙈🙈 whether that yearning is satisfied is completely up to you!!

thank you so much, anon, that's very kind ❤️ i managed to scramble something up based on your prompt, and had lots of fun doing it. i couldn't make hbp work, so i hope you don't mind i went with early dh instead. i hope you enjoy some angsty yearning courtesy of our very own hj potter!

***

Don’t look at her.

Harry repeats those words to himself like a mantra as he absent-mindedly stacks different kinds of desserts on his plate. The air under the marquee has become thicker now that several guests have stood up to dance, and Harry has started to feel very uncomfortable in Barny Weasley’s sweatier-than-normal body.

He grunts at the dessert selection available on the buffet table, wondering what kind of boring wedding does not serve treacle tart. But then again, he has never been to a wedding before, so what does he know, really.

He walks away in search of somewhere to sit down, carefully trying to shut down his peripheral vision, his gaze dutifully fixed right in front of him. 

Don’t look at her.

Since after the ceremony, he has decided to avoid looking at the dance floor at all costs. He is convinced this is the safest way to keep his mind clear, without being distracted by stupid promises made to stupid best mates, or by the temptation to throttle big-headed Quidditch players - nobody in particular, of course.

He slouches in the first empty chair he finds, his eyes focused on his plate and the assortment of sweets he is never going to eat. He nervously starts drumming with his fingers on the table, while conversation and laughter bubble all around him.

He could take a look at the dancefloor, he reckons, just to check that Ron and Hermione have not started bickering. A quick peek won’t hurt anybody, right?

Do not. Look. At her.

Except that he cannot not look at her. He cannot help but make silly excuses to steal a glance at her every now and then; he cannot help but look for her in the colourful crowd. He cannot help but know exactly where she is under the marquee, even when he is talking to somebody else, when he is eating a bite, or when she is joining Luna in her extravagant dance.

Because Ginny is pure, burning light. He is drawn to her like a flower is drawn to the sun, and he does not know how to contain this dangerous feeling building up in his chest. It’s powerful, urgent, and it makes his heart ache like never before. 

Defeated by his own sorry arse, he looks up and quickly scans the room, trying to convince himself that he is actually checking on Ron and Hermione. He is not fooling anyone, really. 

It only takes him a split second to find her. Because this time she is not talking to somebody else, or eating a bite, or dancing with Luna. This time she is right there in front of him. No, she is actually walking towards him.

Oh bloody hell.

The room seems to blur around her, its noise and chaos fading to a hum as Harry helplessly watches her drawing closer and closer.

He wishes he had the strength to stop her, he really does. But there’s only so much that a man can do when the woman he loves is walking towards him surrounded by that golden aura of light, so painfully beautiful, so painfully real.

She sits in the empty chair right next to him. She doesn't say anything, and yet he understands everything. 

Silence has always been easy with Ginny. It has been easy for longer than he can remember. 

He really should have known, the miserable prat. He should have known that love is a quiet, secret language shared through the simplest of glances. Love is moving together without speaking and understanding each other in a way that no one else ever could. He should have known that clammy hands, fumbling conversations and awkward silences over hot chocolate at Madam Puddifoot’s are an absolute pile of nothing compared to this.

And yet - he couldn’t have known, could he, that he would have found love in a hard, blazing gaze, in the sweet sound of laughter lingering in the air, in little elbows and butter dishes, in a gloriously setting sun. Maybe the realisation would not have struck him so hard, if he had. And maybe, with Ginny, he cannot have it in any other way.

He does not know for how long they remain sitting like that, a foot from each other, without uttering a single word. Their bodies are not remotely touching, and yet he feels engulfed by her, by her flowery scent, by her blazing and unwavering light. Their bodies are not even touching, and yet he feels her warmth everywhere on his body, under his skin, brushing his soul.

The other guests might think he looks like a miserable sod, stiffly glued to his chair just to be around her, just to drink her in for one more minute.

Or maybe they just think he is the weird cousin who creeps on younger girls at family functions. Whatever. He is not even sure he cares.

After all, she has not left yet. She is, too, sitting there on the edge of her chair, incapable of walking away. She stays, and that’s all that matters to him.

A sudden glint of yellow, and Harry notices Luna waving at Ginny from the crowd, calling her to the dance floor. 

They both sigh. The spell of silent and blissful oblivion around them is broken once again.

‘I think I’m going to join Luna,’ Ginny says quietly. 

He is so grateful, like a pathetic, smitten idiot, to hear her voice again. Even if what she says rips a hole through his heart.

When she finally does get up from her chair, it looks like she is wearing a weighted vest around her shoulders. He feels something breaking inside of him.

‘Oh.’ He chokes, clears his throat. ‘Yeah. Have fun.’

Her beautiful, sad eyes linger on him for a moment too long before she gives him a curt nod, and slowly walks away.

What a stupid thing to say, he tells himself. What a stupid, idiotic thing to say, when all he should have done instead was ask her, please stay. Please don’t go, please don’t leave me. I can’t bear to be away from you, I just can’t let you go. I’m sorry. I love you. Do you hear me? I love you. I am so sorry.

A miserable man, he is. A miserable, miserable man who is about to go on a suicide mission but has to push away the only person who makes him feel truly invincible. 

Would it be so bad to dive into the crowd, grab her hand, hold her close to his chest, and drown in that blissful oblivion again? Would it be so bad to kiss her soft, burning red lips, traumatising all the guests and the Weasleys together, hearing someone try and remedy the scandal by explaining that Oh but he’s not really a cousin, you know, more of a distant relative.

Maybe he really should go in there, ask her to run away with him and be just the two of them forever, forget about Dumbledore’s instructions, sod all this Chosen One nonsense. Choose his own happiness, just this once.

But then a silver lynx brings the news that the Ministry’s fallen and chaos unravels. He later ends up wondering to himself if those stupid, idiotic words will be the last ones he will ever say to her.

[libraryofhogwarts]

A Deal Made on Impulse

Ginny Weasley x Pansy Parkinson

Pansy has something she needs to talk to Ginny about, and so it begins.

Chapter 3: Oh the Dread of It All

Series masterlist

Monday morning was a dread. The moment Ginny opened her eyes she was met with a flood of anxiety. She lay in stillness for a few moments until the lingering nausea from the night before had passed.

Hermione was already up and dressed, getting ready to walk out the door when she noticed that Ginny was awake. She paused at the door, hand on the doorknob, “Everything will be fine today Gins,” she slipped out of the door a second later.

Ginny covered her eyes and groaned.

She got up, quickly dressing in her uniform and sliding her Mary Jane heels on. She fumbled with her tie three times before finally getting the knot correct. It was loose but it would have to do for today because there was no way she would get it any tighter with her shaky fingers.

She grabbed her stack of books, corresponding with the three classes she had today, and headed out of her dorm.

Her first class of the day was Defence Against the Dark Arts. Usually, she would dread this class, the professor bore her to tears, but today she was dreading the end of class.

Why? Because, luckily, this was one of the classes she did not have with Pansy Parkinson. Unfortunately, the next class, Charms, was where her luck ran out.

The DADA professor, much to Ginny’s dismay, released the class for the day, meaning Ginny was now sluggishly making her way down the hall to Charms. She wished Merlin would bless her with the stomach flu or something to that degree at this moment. Anything to get out of having to go to class.

She reached the massive carved door of her class. Heaving a sigh, she pulled the handle and made her way inside, hesitant to meet her fate.

She immediately found Pansy, in her usual seat three rows back from Ginny’s. The woman was distracted, talking with friends. Ginny took the opportunity to hurriedly make her way to her seat and slouch into her chair.

The professor entered the room beginning the lecture. He droned on about making a teacup dance around the desk for over an hour. Ginny tried to listen, she really did, but she could feel laser eyes drilling into the back of her head.

She was too scared to turn around and see what was causing her these feelings for fear of finding Pansy Parkinson staring back at her.

The professor wrapped up class shortly after 1:00 pm. It was lunch and then Ginny had her last class later in the day. She rose from her seat intending to skip lunch and make a mad dash for her dorm.

She was so stressed out, maybe sketching or painting could help. Yes; that is what she’d do. She’d go to her dorm and take her stress out on a canvas. Maybe she would even skip her last class and just have Hermione bring her dinner. The prospect of spending the rest of the night tucked away in the corner of her room with the easel sounded all too enticing.

She quickly gathered her things from her desk, not bothering to tuck away her notes or pens, just piling them on top of her books and fast walking to the door.

As soon as she crossed the threshold into the hall she heard it. Her name was being called from the room she’d just left. She paused, recognizing the voice right away. She’d been playing that voice on repeat all night long What can I do for you Weasley and Okay. It was Pansy’s husky voice.

Ginny was tempted to run but she remembered that Pansy had done her a favor yesterday, so instead she paused, slowly turning on her heel to face the woman.

Now, so close behind her, Pansy stood. Just slightly taller than the redhead she looked down into Ginny’s eyes, a glint of humor in her own.

Ginny’s palms began to sweat.

“What can I do for you Parkinson?” Ginny threw her words from yesterday back at her.

“Can we talk?” Her eyes gleaned around the corridor noting the other students shuffling around, some of them noting the unusual fact that the pair was talking, “Somewhere private?”

Ginny’s heart stopped in her chest. What could Pansy want to talk about? Was she not also stewing on what happened yesterday? Shouldn’t they both just pretend the kiss never happened and go back to how things were before yesterday afternoon?

“Sure,” Ginny reluctantly squeaked out, “Where?”

“Your dorm?” Pansy surprised Ginny by suggesting.

Ginny just nodded, turning around and heading down the hall, hoping the girl was following. Or maybe she hoped she’d lose Pansy in the chaos of the lunch rush; students flying through the hallways heading towards the dining hall.

Unfortunately, much to Ginny’s dismay, the woman kept stride with her.

They made it to the portrait door in record time for Ginny. Usually, she was legerly with her walk back to the dorm, stopping to talk to her peers or getting distracted by one of the castle’s ghosts and their antics.

She muttered the password to the stubborn old librarian in the painting. The door swung open revealing a dark tunnel leading into the cozy octagonal-shaped common room lined with red rugs and tapestries depicting scenes of knights in shining armor and spindling forests.

The fire from this morning was still roaring, warming the room to an almost uncomfortable temperature. The heat only added to Ginny’s nerves. She still didn’t look back to see if Pansy was behind her, she could hear the click of her shoes in the empty common room.

They made their way to the stone staircase. Ginny paused her foot on the first step. Once she went up these stairs there was no turning back. She would truly be isolated with Pansy Parkinson, the woman she’d kissed yesterday; the only woman she’d kissed.

Despite her nerves she continued on, something in her gut telling her to go onward, to hear Pansy out.

They were met with yet another door, this one Ginny unlocked using wandless magic. The pair stepped inside her and Hermione’s shared room.

The redhead stood uncomfortably in the middle of the room, watching as the brunette wandered about looking over Ginny’s shelves of paints, music, and nicknacks. Then she moved to Hermione’s selves, pulling off a book to read the back cover.

Ginny cleared her throat after a minute, “So… what was it you wanted to talk about?”

Pansy put the book down, spinning around to look at Ginny. She walked over to Ginny’s bed plopping down on her back to look at the ceiling.

Pansy blew out a breath, almost a sigh, “I think we should date.”

Ginny choked on the air. What did she mean date? She said that so casually as if it was normal for Pansy fucking Parkinson of all people to suggest that she date Ginny Weasley.

“I… I’m sorry, what?” Ginny gasped out.

“Sorry,” the woman sat up from her position on the bed, facing Ginny once more. “I think we should fake date.”

Pansy said it in a tone that suggested that the insertion of the word ‘fake’ cleared up all confusion. It did not. At least not for Ginny. She was at a complete loss for words.

Pansy looked at her shocked state for a few moments before standing to lightly grab the redhead’s hand. She gently pulled her to the bed and sat her down on the edge. Ginny complied, too lost in confusion to do anything else.

Pansy pulled out the desk chair flipping it backwards to straddle it facing Ginny. Her necktie was loose as if she’d pulled at it in frustration. Her button-down shirt was untucked from her skirt and her knee-high stockings were beginning to slip down her calves.

Ginny couldn’t look at the woman for too long or her thoughts would get her into trouble. Trouble like agreeing to Pansy’s plan before even hearing it.

“What do you mean fake date?” Ginny emphasized the last words as if to remind herself what they were talking about.

“I mean exactly what it sounds like. We pretend to date.”

“But… why? Why would we pretend to date?” Ginny’s confusion is palpable, like a breathing being dancing around in the air.

“Because you have an ex-boyfriend who won’t leave you alone. If we pretend like we’re in a relationship he’ll back off, I’ll make sure of it.” She supplies.

Pansy had noticed Dean’s actions over the last couple of months? Had anyone else noticed? Her brothers certainly hadn’t. Dean was probably lucky that they hadn’t; too caught up in their own romantic drama to notice their little sister’s leach of an ex.

“You noticed Dean?”

“Of course I noticed. He was outside most of your classes harassing you for the last two months. He almost makes it impossible not to notice.” Pansy surprised Ginny by saying.

She didn’t think anyone had been paying that much attention to her, let alone her issues with Dean. Hermione and Draco were the only ones who knew, and that was only because Hermione was her best friend and Draco was her best friend’s boyfriend.

Merlin, it was embarrassing that she had noticed. Dean was embarrassing. Ginny could not believe she dated him.

“What about you? What would you get out of us fake dating?” Ginny asked still confused about the woman’s motivations and trying to change the subject.

“Well I get to tell Dean to shove off whenever I want,” she laughed, “and I get to prove to my parents that I am actually gay, despite their doubts.” Gone was the laughter. Now grave seriousness replaced it.

“What do you mean?” Ginny whispered.

Pansy seemed to be hesitant to explain but continued nonetheless, “My parents think me being gay is a phase. It’s obviously not but no amount of words seems to be convincing enough for them.” She sighs and Ginny doesn’t think she’s heard a sadder sigh in her life.

“Maybe dating a girl will prove it to them.” Pansy finishes.

Suddenly Ginny wants nothing more than to leap from the bed and wrap the girl in the tightness of a hug. She doesn’t think Pansy gets enough of those.

Ginny stays where she is, however; she doesn’t even know the brunette that well, she doesn’t need to scare her off by pulling her into a bear hug only a Weasley can truly give. Especially not when this plan is starting to sound enticing.

No, no definitely not. Those thoughts will lead nowhere good. Ginny could not start down that road.

“How would we even convince them that we are dating? They’d never see us.” It didn’t make sense to Ginny. How were they supposed to convince her parents that they were together if they were away at Hogwarts the entire time?

“They are having a New Year’s Eve gala.” she rolls her eyes at the word gala, “You come to it and they can see that this whole gay thing is one hundred percent not going away. Then, we date for a couple more months and the good old-fashioned rumor mill will get the information on us back to them. Hopefully, with any luck, they will be convinced.” She sucks in a breath.

Ginny gnaws on her bottom lip, weighing the pros and cons of this crazy plan. It might help get Dean off her back and it would help get Pansy’s parents off of hers. It’s crazy, that’s for sure, no doubt about it, but… it just might work.

“How long would we fake date?” she needs to know every detail before she agrees to this. Matter of fact they should probably come up with some rules as well, so as to not blur any lines. Not that Ginny thinks she’ll have a hard time not blurring lines, definitely not.

“How about we revisit that question in a couple of months? See where we are sitting with our individual problems and adjust the timeline from there.” Pansy has this whole thing figured out Ginny thinks.

Ginny stares hard and Pansy. Debating back and forth. Should she, should she not? After a few moments of intense staring from both girls, Pansy never breaking eye contact with her. Ginny answers the original suggestion, “Okay. I’ll do it. But I have some rules.”

Merlin was Ginny easy to convince, how embarrassing. She just hoped this didn’t go wrong.

“Yes ma’am. Hit me,” Pansy gives her a salute, some of the playfulness returning to her eyes.

Ginny rolls her eyes, “No kissing. At least not all the time.” Ginny starts.

Pansy doesn’t say anything quite yet, just has a questioning look in her eye.

“I want to save those things for real moments in my life. I know it sounds stupid it’s just-” Ginny is cut off by Pansy’s reply,

“It’s not stupid. I get it, no kissing unless necessary. What about touching? No one is going to believe we’re dating if we don’t kiss let alone touch.”

Pansy makes a good point. Ginny ponders the question, deciding what she’s okay with and what she’s not.

“How about this, we can touch, and give chaste kisses, on the cheek and such. Sound reasonable?” Ginny questions if these parameters are good.

“Okay, I can work with that.” Pansy nods, “Any other rules?”

Ginny pauses. She hadn’t thought that far, only that she didn’t want to blur the lines with too much kissing.

“Uhm, I don’t think so,” Ginny tells her.

“Great,” she slaps her hands on the back of the chair, standing up, going to make her way for the door.

“Wait!” Ginny rushed to stand.

Pansy turns back raising her eyebrows waiting for an explanation.

Ginny walks up to her, coming next to the door, “Who should we tell about this… arrangement?”

“Probably no one, if we want it to be convincing,” Pansy says.

“But Hermione,” Ginny trails off.

“Aah, the golden girl,”

“She’s my best friend. She’s going to know if I’m lying.” Ginny tells her.

“Tell whoever you want Weasley, just try to keep it under wraps, alright? It would be terribly humiliating if someone found out about this.” Pansy looks down at Ginny, a teasing glint in her eye.

“Okay,” Ginny whispers, feeling like the air has suddenly been sucked out of the room.

The girls look at each other, momentary heat sizzling between them.

“I’ll see you later… girlfriend,” Pansy whispers, breaking whatever moment they had between them a second ago.

She’s gone before Ginny can muster any sort of response, the door already closed.

“Bye,” Ginny whispers to the emptiness of her room.

[https-maxine-stuff]

“The star-crossed lovers.”

10.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

"Is him loving me not enough for you!?" The young girl hissed. The older woman rolled her eyes.

"Can you actually just shut up? That would be great."

"How'd you confess to him huh? I'd love to bloody know."

"Astrid be quiet."

"No! I want to know! I want to know why your confession is the right way to go! After the Yule ball? Thats a tad embarrassing to say the least." The older woman glared at her younger self.

"No it wasn't! It was a rush of feelings."

"Same with mine! We both had a rush of feelings! We argued and I confessed that's how it happened!"

"I really hate you."

"Yeah! I hate you too!" She slammed her hands on the desk.

Older Astrid looked away.

.・。.・゜✭・.

"You look stressed." The blonde stared at her.

"Oh very,"

"Boyfriend problems?" He sat down next to her on the bleachers, Hufflepuff Quidditch practice.

"Something of the sort,,"

"..wanna talk about it?"

"You are being so out of character it's actually quite alarming." Astrid turned to Draco. The boy gasped.

"Am not!"

"Are to! You are being so nice, who are you and what have you done with my best friend, Draco Malfoy!" She pointed her finger accusingly.

"Oi! Get that finger out of my face you witch." He hissed.

"There he is."

"Never mind don't want to bother with this..anymore." He squinted his eyes at her then blinked them back to their normal shape.

"Why'd you squint?"

"To enhance the glare."

"Didn't work."

"Fuck you."

.・。.・゜✭・.

Astrid blinked for a few seconds and turned "Ronald is that you?" She could feel the stare of a ginger but assumed Ron nonetheless.

"Wrong! It's George." The tall lanky boy responded.

"Oh goodie! I actually needed a tall man's help, since Cedric is busy right now."

"Oh sure, what do you need?"

"Okay, so I really need that paint tin up there."

"The- the pink one?" He seemed amused.

"Yes, the pink one can you get it for me?" She smiled lightly.

"Yeah yeah sure." He had towered over her as he grabbed the pink paint tin handing it to her. “So you and Diggory?” His voice was soft.

“Yeah, me and Diggory..why?” She raised a brow.

“Well,, I was hoping it wasn’t true..I wanted to take you to the ball in all honesty.” He smiled lightly.

The ball had been announced as of recently.

“You did?” She chuckled. “Georgie you can get any girl you want, why me?”

“Because if I can get any girl I want why couldn’t I get, you?” His voice was soft.

“Because I’m Cedric’s,” she smiled.

“Yeah, and he seems like a good boyfriend minus all this tournament stuff.”

“Yeah true.”

.・。.・゜✭・.

Cedric sat down on the bed smiling at her as she was brushing her wet hair out. “So George might’ve told me he liked me.”

“What?”

“Yeah, nothing too serious.. just wanted to take me to the ball.”

“The ball? That’s my position not his.” He huffed, she turned to him and cupped his face.

“Oi, no getting jealous we both already know I’m going with you,” she smiled.

“Yeah you better be,” he smiled as-well kissing her face.

-

“What do you mean I can’t go with him!? And- a pink frilly dress you are out of your bloody mind.” Astrid hissed at the older woman.

“Oi! The dress is beautiful so be quiet, anyways you are going with George.”

“No I am not! I’m going with Cedric, you hag.”

“Hag?! Oh my gods was I always this stubborn??”

“I don’t know figure it out but I would rather DIE than wear that.”

“Oh my god.”

“Ugh.”

.・。.・゜✭・.

Hermione stared at her.

“What are you looking at, Mione.”

“You.” Astrid blinked a few times and raised a brow.

“Why?”

“..What’s it like to have nice boyfriend.”

“Huh?”

“Astrid, what’s it like to have a nice boyfriend?”

“Uhm well,, it’s nice he gets jealous sometimes and it’s kinda hot..don’t tell him that. But uhm it’s pretty nice.”

Hermione seemed to like that answer and turned away but turned back “oh your books! I have them in my dorm if you need them.”

“I’ll be okay I don’t need them.” She smiled “you can return them by the end of the year Herm.” Astrid pushed away from the table collecting her notes.

Harry and Ron seemed to be in conversation about the ball.

“Hermione..your a girl..” he whispered.

“Well spotted.” She stared at him. Astrid raised a brow, Ron began to make dancing motions and then got smacked by Snape Astrid held back a laugh as she handed him her book.

.・。.・゜✭・.

“What color are we going to wear?” She asked Cedric.

“Hm, I want to wear black.”

“Same here.”

“So we both wear black?”

“Yeah,”

“I can wear some gold pieces too!” He smiled so there’d be a little color difference.

“You are so smart my boy,” she kissed his cheeks.

“Mmm I love being smart earns me kisses.”

“Always,,” she hummed sitting down next to him, his arms around her waist as they just sat there in silence.

[nidamae-approvedhpfanfics]

This, Too, Is Sacred

An ancient power has required generations of purebloods to pledge their lives to the blood pact. Draco has long known he was born to uphold this tradition; but Hermione's parents have secrets, hidden details about her heritage… and soon it will be her turn to cast in with fate. Dramione AU

Also at

My summary: (I've read it 3 times now- it's that good)

2 yrs post Battle of Hogwarts Hermione's parents are finally getting their memories restored. Once mostly settled her father tells her she's actually pureblood and she Must speak with Molly about the Sacred 28 and what that now means for her as one of them.

This is the one aspect of being a member of the Sacred 28 the Weasleys have not and could not walk away from as it is vital for the survival of all magicals.

More than her immediate duty Hermione finds the loss of families from the Sacred numbers -there were originally 40- mean that her participation may soon be irrelevant. There is work to be done.

Language: English Words: 86,041 Chapters: 23/23 Collections: 33 Comments: 1,905 Kudos: 9,544 Bookmarks: 3,254 Hits: 276,042

Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Mr Granger (Harry Potter), Mrs Granger (Harry Potter), Molly Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Muriel (Harry Potter), Theodore Nott, Blood Magic, Sex Magic, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Forced Marriage, Traditions, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Pureblood Hermione Granger, do not copy to another site

[magicbystarlight]

Before I Knew You (AU)

Bill Weasley x Reader

Masterlist, Part One

Summary: What if the fall of the Ministry didn’t interrupt the wedding? For @pearlsofme

A/N: A fun smutty little AU for Before I Knew You based off this conversation, taking place during Part Five. A big thank you to the anon who started it off and to Riele for encouraging me always 💕 Sorry it’s not an official update!

Warnings: 18+, smut, unedited, AU, eventual accidental pregnancy. Minors DNI.

It was several dances later when your legs begged for a break. Muriel seemed distracted far on the opposite side of the tent, talking the ear off some poor soul she'd cornered, but Bill guided you along a longer route around the dance floor to avoid falling into her line of sight. Hagrid's drunken voice had fallen silent, though his snores echoed nearly as loud as the music. Everyone had decided to take a break from dancing. Luna had joined the table, leaving only a single vacant seat.

Fred smiled up at you with glazed over eyes. He pushed his chair back and patted his lap. "Need a seat, love?"

Bill’s grip on your hand tightened.

“Don’t be gross,” Ginny chastised.

He swirled his wand over his head. “I was just offering to summon a chair,” he said, as one nearly crashed against your legs. “What did you think I meant?”

Ginny rolled her eyes and focused her attention back on Luna.

Bill dragged you and the chair to the other side of the table. Charlie said something as you sat between him and his older brother, but considering it was in a language you didn’t speak you couldn’t understand what. Bill, however, could and replied equally incomprehensibly. You listened to the back and forth until Bill seemed to end the conversation. He didn’t sound happy.

“Everything alright?”

He nodded, thumb dragging across the back of the hand he still held. “Fred’s never been great at holding his liquor. Or his tongue.”

“Oh,” is all you add. There’s a lot worse innuendos he’s made sober, but you don’t think Bill would want to hear that at the moment. “What language was that?”

“Arabic.”

He continued to hold your hand as he explained how he’d ended up learning Arabic while working in Egypt. Charlie had learned it from some coworkers in Romania. He butt in to add that he’d learned a total of six languages while in Romania. Seven if you counted reading a dragon’s body language.

It’s easy to talk to Bill. Easy to smile and laugh. Easy to lean into him. Easy to let his hold on your hand become a hold on your thigh.

You blinked and the party appeared nearly over. Half the guests gone, the other half milling about subdued either by fatigue or a large quantity of liquor. The older women scooped up the centerpieces. Charlie had gone off somewhere. Ginny had gravitated towards a disguised Harry. The twins had been tasked with helping get Hagrid back to the tent he’d set up the night before, something that was taking far longer than they’d planned.

The happy couple stopped at the table to say their final goodbye. Bill’s hand didn’t move despite the raised brow Tonks gave him. You felt the heat on your face when she left you with a wink.

“You alright?” he asked, thumb drawing circles on your thigh.

“Yeah, just,” you swallowed hard, trying not to waver in your resolve, “everyone might be back soon. Think we oughta call it a night and head up to bed.”

His hand retreated immediately. “Right, yeah, right, of course.”

God, how bad at this were you? “Together?” It sounded more like a question than the statement you’d meant to make it.

“Together?”

His echoing of the question made your embarrassment far worse. Had you misread it all? “I mean—only if you—I thought—” You floundered. His laugh made you want to bury your head in sand.

“Take a breath, love.” His voice dropped as he leaned in closer, hand back on your thigh rising  up. “I want nothing more than to head up…together.” His breath stuttered when your legs widened on instinct. “Head on up, yeah? I, uh, need a minute.” With a final squeeze, his hand retreated and he sat back. The large bulge in his pants had your mind reeling.

The trek back to the Burrow was short. You were nearly to the door when you were thwarted.

“There you are dear!” Molly seemed to appear from nowhere. Trapped, you stood there and listened as she went on and on and on about the wedding. How grateful she had been for your help, how nice you looked into your dress, how kind it was of you to keep Bill company, how happy Remus seemed. “I didn’t think keeping the party would be a good idea, but Bill insisted. He’s such a good boy, so caring. I know he was hurting and he still put on a smile for his friends.”

Your stomach sank.

“For the best it was, I suppose. Tonks looked wonderful, didn’t she?”

“Beautiful,” Bill confirmed from behind you. You’d been standing there too long. His hand found the small of your back, fingers spread wide. “Thought you were off to bed?”

“Oh, dear I’m sorry!” Molly intoned. “Didn’t mean to keep you from bed. Go, go,” she waved you off, “Bill be a dear and make sure she gets to bed. Godric knows your brothers would try to pull one of their tricks. Why they can’t be more gentlemanly like you and Charlie...”

Bill didn’t need further instruction. He pushed you forward, through the door, and up the steps. Out of earshot, he let out a laugh. “She’s worried about the wrong brothers.” His hand slipped down your back and patted your ass. It stayed there until you reached your door. It was already slightly open. He pushed it open to reveal Charlie passed out on your bed with his shoes still on, hanging over the edge. With a flick of Bill’s wand, the lights extinguished, the curtains pulled closed, and the blanket slid around the sleeping man.

“Guess it’s my room then.”

You barely covered your mouth in time to tamp down a squeal as he lifted you and threw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. You’d have to remember to add inhuman strength to the list of side effects of non-lunar werewolf scratches. “Bill,” you hissed, clinging to his back while he climbed the stairs, “someone could see.”

The door opened with a creak. “Should be more worried about them hearing us.” He let you down when the door closed, but he didn’t let you go far. Back pressed against the door, you’re forced to turn your head up to look at him. Something in your expression made his smile pause. “You sure you want this?”

Your hand rested on his chest. “Yeah. You?” Beneath your touch, you felt the conformation ease the tightness in his chest.

“Since the moment I saw you.” He let his hold find your waist. “In the dress,” is added as an afterthought. He crushed you with a kiss, leaving you incapable of more thought. He’s demanding, rough. Experienced in a way you aren’t. Your hands trembled. “Too much?” he asked, pulling away.

You gripped his jacket and tugged him back. “No.”

A hand ran up your leg, discarded your wand, and continued beneath your skirt. He hummed his appreciation against your lips when his fingers found the drenched fabric. "So wet." The tip of his finger traced along the hem and pushed under the fabric. You whined, head knocked against the wood, eyes closed, as his finger slid across your clit. "Bill..."

"Say it again." His finger pressed hard little circles.

“Bill.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, his free hand working the front of his pants. He pushed them down, letting his cock free. The weight bounced against your stomach.

Your head snapped down.

“Like what you see?”

Cillian hadn’t seemed small at the time, but comparatively, “It’s bigger than I’m used to.”

Bill chuckled and kissed you. “Sure know how to feed a guy’s ego, don’t you?” The same hand found its way to your ass and lifted you with ease. “Wrap your legs around me, love.”

You did, hooking your ankles behind his back.

The hand between your legs departed. He used it to guide himself along your slit. “So fucking wet.”With a roll of his hips, his cock pushed its way in. You bit your lip, trying to hold back a moan. Slowly, he sunk deeper. The stretch burned pleasantly. When he found resistance, his hands found your hip and tilted them to let his cock reach deeper.

You couldn't stop the cry that tore from your lips.

"Shhh." He kissed the corner of your mouth, his hips setting a rhythm. "Don't want the whole house to hear, do you?"

You buried your head in his neck. The pace was steady, each thrust deep and slow. You couldn’t keep completely quiet. Not when you felt his cock rubbing along every inch. He wasn't much better. His groans vibrated in his chest and rumbled against your head.

"You feel so good," he mumbled. "Better than I imagined. Fucking perfect." He shifted, snaking one arm under you to keep you up and the other slipping back between you. His fingers found your clit again.

"You feel so good," he mumbled. "Better than I imagined. Fucking perfect." He shifted, snaking one arm under you to keep you up and the other slipping back between you. His fingers found your clit again.

"Bill," you breathed, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Close, love?"

You nod, eyes squeezed shut, legs squeezing tighter around him.

"Need to feel you cum. Can you do that for me? Cum all over my cock?"

Your response was another moan of his name.

“That’s it, love, just like that.”

Your body willingly obliged, clinging breathlessly  to him as you came undone. A low groan tore from his throat as you spasmed around him. He slowed to a stop as you came down from the peak.

“Good girl,” he cooed. “Do you need a minute or?”

“I’m good,” you managed to say. He was still hard, rocking into you with more patience than you could have mustered. You pulsed around him, causing him his pace to falter for a moment.

Air swirled around you. Your back met the bed. Bill hovered above you, cock still inside, hands planted on either side of your head. “I’m trying to last, love, but if you keep squeezing me like that…”

A wicked grin pulled at your lips. “Like this?”

His eyes shut with a growl. “Brat.”

You did it again.

His hips slammed forward, knocking the breath from your lungs. One hand gathered your wrists and pinned them above your head. The other wrapped around a leg and lifted it for a better angle. Gone were the gentle, slow strokes. Each thrust was sharp and unrestrained.

He found your clit again. His kiss swallowed your cry of his name. Pleasure coursed through you again. The unexpected intensity had your toes curling, eyes squeezing shut, back arching off. Your name came out of him like a prayer. He pulsed and his pace stuttered as warmth coated inside.

Bill collapsed beside you, breathless. Sweat clung to his hair and the raised edges of his scars. His suit was ruffled.

Your freed hands reached to pull down the dress that had gathered around your waist.

“Let me,” he said, sitting up to pull the hem back into place. He took an extra moment to slide your knickers back too. His hands trailed down your legs and slipped off your heels. He threw them on to the floor, his own shoes following a moment later. He stood to pull up his boxers and strip away the rest of his clothes. “Here,” he offered, holding out a shirt he pulled from a drawer. “It’ll be more comfortable.”

You scooted off the bed and reached for the zipper on the dress, but it was out of reach. Bill laughed, standing from where he'd recovered your discarded wand, and came to help. “I should shower,” you said, feeling his release beginning to pool in your knickers.

“Would I be crossing the line if I asked you not to?” You looked at him over your shoulder as he dragged the zipper down. “You smell like me.” He tugged the dress, letting it fall to the floor. “I like that.”

You couldn’t find the right words to respond so you just nodded. With the shirt on, he pulled you back into bed. Unsatisfied, his arm slung around your waist and dragged you flush against him. “Good night, love.”

You’d wake up early and shower then. If anyone saw you leaving the room, you could blame it on Charlie being in your bed. Bill had been nice enough to lend something more comfortable than a dress to sleep in. It would be fine to sleep here in his arms. No one would find out. Maybe it could happen again when Charlie leaves. If Bill wanted it to happen again, that is.

You shut your eyes and nuzzled against him. “Good night, Bill.”

—

You woke with a start, a loud banging rattling your bones and making you jump.

“Oy! Wakey-wa—aaat the fuck?

Next

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[emeritusemeritus]

No Good Deeds [George Weasley x Reader]

Part 5

Part 1 2 3 4 5

Pairing: {George Weasley x Reader} mentions of previous Fred Weasley x Reader.

Timeline: Set a few years after DH, loosely following Canon.

Summary: A few years after Fred’s death, the investors of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes demand changes to the name. All it would take is two years of a fake marriage to fix the issues, but no good deed goes unpunished.

Warnings: Fake marriage trope because we love the cliché. Mentions of death (Fred). Friends to lovers. Slow burn but mentions of kissing and eventual smut. Swearing. George calls us Angel. Drinking. SMUT. The smut has arrived! P in V, oral (both). Angst, sadness, grief. Tags will be updated with each chapter. Not Beta-read or spell checked.

Honeymoon time 💕

Your wedding to George was a jubilant celebration with your family and friends, a chance to bask in the love you were so thankful to receive from everyone around you. You'd honoured Fred in many ways that day, including photos of him, an empty chair with his name on and many other little ways to make it seem like he was there. You'd noticed George had worn his chain under his suit shirt and the sight of it made butterflies flutter inside you.

It was a small and quaint wedding that had admittedly been rushed in planning, only two weeks after you'd announced your engagement, but it was perfect. No one had doubted your intentions and the day had gone completely to plan, except for the regular hiccups that seem to occur when a group of people are brought together. Muriel had been characteristically foul as usual and had clashed with your great aunt Ariadne though she'd avoided the more triggering topics which was one consolation.

You danced with your friends and your now blended family late into the night, with George eventually stealing you back from dancing with Bill for one final dance.

"Have you had a good day Mrs Weasley?" He asks, holding you close as you sway with surprising grace even with the healthy amount of alcohol you'd both consumed.

"The best, Mr Weasley," you beam up at him, his handsomeness once again hitting you as you look upon his smiling face.

"Couldn't have asked for better. I don't think you've ever looked more beautiful."

The night you'd spent together had not been repeated since, nor had you really spoken about it. There was a lingering tension between you, growing increasingly stronger throughout the day as you thought of your wedding night and honeymoon, the anticipation almost consuming you.

Ginny and Fleur had whisked you away from George not long after your final dance to get you ready to leave for your honeymoon, which you'd be departing for very soon. It was tradition in the Weasley family to immediately begin your honeymoon the night of the wedding and you had readily accepted the chance to exit out of the wedding a little earlier into the night, giving you and George some time alone.

You'd chosen to honeymoon in the U.K. to keep costs down, after all this whole situation was based upon George reclaiming the shop as sole owner and any unnecessary spending would only increase the amount of time you'd be married. Bill and Fleur had graciously offered for you to stay in Shell Cottage with them but George had instead chosen to surprise you with your destination. He'd tactfully evaded every single one of your questions, relishing in his power of knowledge but had thankfully given you a few clues as to what you should pack. Clothes for all weather, from hot to bitter cold, a couple of 'nice' outfits and a bathing suit. So, nothing to really go off.

Percy had arranged a ministry car for you to borrow for the week, his gift for you both and you'd decided to travel like muggles for the week, taking your time and only using magic when necessary. George was driving to your destination, the luggage and travel necessities having been packed up earlier that day by the Weasley boys and Harry.

The crowd cheered as you both walked towards the car that was waiting for you, your family and friends gathered around with jubilant faces as you walked hand in hand towards the car. You both paused to thank and embrace Mr and Mrs Weasley before climbing into the car, George opening the door for you before getting in on his side. You waved at the gathering of people in front of you as George pulled away and as you pulled away from the Burrow, you peered through the back window, squirming around the freshly painted 'just married' sign to see your loved ones fading further away as they carried on the party.

"Are you okay?" George asks gently as he drives out of Ottery St Catchpole, the rolling Devonshire fields passing you by as the sun begins to set.

"I'm... incredible, I don't think there are words for how I'm feeling," you say with a wide smile, giggling a little at your inability to get your words out. He chuckles and reaches for your hand, pulling it onto the gear stick to join his.

"I know what you mean, I feel like I'm floating," he says, flashing you a smile before turning his attention back to the road. You take the opportunity of his attention being elsewhere to really look at him,  the plains of his face looking unbelievably handsome to you. He looked stunning in his suit, the colour and cut of the material only serving as a compliment to his gorgeous red hair and sharp features.

"Checking me out Mrs Weasley?" He says with a smirk, eyes still fixed on the road. You fight to hide the creeping blush that appears on your cheeks, realising that he'd caught you staring. You bite your lip and turn away, choosing to look out of the window at the rolling hills instead. "You can you know, I'm yours now."

You turn to look at him and the smile he has plastered on his face fills you with warmth and nervous excitement.

"You look so handsome, I feel like I can't take my eyes off you," you admit, a little bashfully.

He gives a deep chuckle and squeezes your hand that is still held by his own.

"You have no idea how hard it is to drive right now, all I want to do is stare at you," he admits, though he sounds completely unashamed of his words. You blush and look away again, this time out of pure bliss, wanting to remember everything about this moment.

"Get some sleep Angel, it's quite a drive," he says softly a few minutes later, turning down the radio that was playing music in the background.

"I'm okay," you lightly protest, despite feeling relaxed by the drive. "I wish I'd taken this dress off though, not the best travelling outfit."

"And take that joy away from me? How dare you," he jokes, sounding a little outraged. Your stomach instantly fills with nerves and butterflies at his words; he intended to take your dress off.

You fell asleep a short while later, just as the last slither of sunlight had disappeared into the horizon, the long stretch of road ahead now only lit by car lights and the faint cats eyes on the ground. The mixture of the low humming from the radio, the gentle rocking of the car and the presence of George was enough to lull you into a much needed sleep as you cuddled into a pillow you'd thought to pack, wishing that you were wearing something much less restrictive but that couldn't be helped.

When you woke again, it was still pitch black and George was still driving, the car lights ahead of you the only clue to where you were.

"Hi Angel," George says, noticing you staring as he briefly looks over at you with a smile.

"Mmm, hi Georgie," you mumble back, still fighting off the last embers of sleep. "Where are we?"

"Nice try," he says, not falling at the last hurdle and you give a little huff, hoping that one would have worked. "About an hour away."

"Is there time to stop for a coffee somewhere?" You ask, sitting straighten in your seat as you abandon the pillow into your lap.

"I don't know anywhere that would be open," he says, flicking his eyes to the dashboard clock, prompting you to do so and realising that it was now past midnight, much to your surprise.

"McDonald's will be," you say with a little shrug, trying to see any hints from signposts as to where you were of where the next services would be.

"McDonald's?" He asks, completely oblivious and you can't help but laugh, never having thought about how the notion of 24 hour fast food had not yet entered the wizarding world, making George completely oblivious.

"It's a 24 hour restaurant, usually around road services, it's fast food," you explain. He immediately gets it and let's out a little 'ahhh' of understanding, telling you that there was a services coming up and you could check if there was one there. There was.

Introducing George Weasley to drive-through ordering was nothing short of hilarious and you'd briefly lamented the fact that his first McDonald's experience wouldn't be inside an actual McDonald's building but you were not about to enter a fast food joint at a service station in a wedding dress. You'd both ordered a coffee, yourself a medium coke and then you had excitedly introduced him to not only a Big Mac but also chicken nuggets, both of which were a complete revelation to him and you had to hold back serious giggles at his reactions. Half an hour later and you were on your way, coffees in hand and belly's a little fuller as you prepared for the last part of your journey.

"Are you sure you don't want me to take over? I don't mind driving to give you a break," you offered as you watch him put on his seatbelt.

"You don't know where we're going," he says with a devilish smirk but you feign innocence.

"Then just tell me and I'll get us there," you say innocently, batting your eyelashes at him.

"Nice try baby," he says with an even more sinister smirk, his eyes roaming your face briefly before he turns on the car and begins to pull away after one last sip of coffee.

You were transfixed as George turned right up a long winding path entirely shielded by trees, the long road leading you deeper under the canopy of trees until you were completely surrounded by woodland. You could make out a small, warm light at the end of the long road and became transfixed on the approaching light, trying to focus your eyes hard on that point, trying to make sense of it. The car swerved a little to avoid a large twig in the road which brought your destination into clear view.

You gasped at the beauty of the scene in front of you, looking excitedly at George who looked more than pleased at your reaction.

"George," you say breathlessly as he parks up in the little clearing beside the place you'd be staying.

It was a rustic log cabin, completely shielded away from everything by a large canopy of trees, a beautiful escape completely hidden away from the outside world. The cabin was almost entirely made of wood with wooden shutters and a wrap around deck.

"George it's beautiful," you say, completely gobsmacked as you look at the gorgeous lodge in front of you, seeing it illuminated by the multiple lanterns that offered a stark contrast against the pitch black night.

"Only the best for my bride," he teases, opening up his car door, prompting you to do the same.

"Want to explore whilst I unload the car?" He asks with a grin, holding the keys to the cabin out in front of you, the little wooden keyring clinking against the two old fashioned keys. You nod enthusiastically and reach out to grab them, pulling George in and without much thought, you leaned up to press a kiss to his lips. Instantly, you realised what you'd done and took a step back, blushing a little as you avoided his gaze. His hand had instinctively wrapped around your back and he gave your back a little rub as you parted, showing no ill will as you turned and walked excitedly towards the cabin.

Opening the door, you were immediately met with an illuminated room thanks to the warm lighting from multiple lamps and light fixtures. The cabin was warm, as if there was a log fire already burning and the smell was heavenly, clean and fresh but with an indisputable scent of wood and pine, a natural consequence of it's idyllic surroundings. You walked through a little entrance hall that houses a utility room before stepping into an open living room, dining room and kitchen, all of which were warm and inviting with natural wood features throughout and neutral colours, highlighting the windows which you knew would almost certainly have beautiful views in the morning. There were two brown leather sofas that looked absolutely lush and a single armchair underneath a window that looked perfect for reading, a tall lamp beside it and a little table for drinks. There was a television and a cabinet in the corner and beside that was a beautiful log burner that was indeed lit, radiating heat throughout the home. You couldn't see much through the side door that was half glass but the outside light did illuminate the decking a little, highlighting a rather impressive sunken hot tub that was covered, eliciting a little excited squeal from you.

You walked down a small corridor that led off from the main atrium through a beautifully carved wooden door with an old metal latch which led you to the bathroom on the left and two bedrooms. You crept into the bathroom to take a peak and saw a big bathtub to the left and a built in shower to the right, as if every need was catered for. One bedroom has two single beds partitioned with a beautiful shelving unit and the other bedroom was almost certainly the master.

There was a huge four poster bed against the back wall bookended by two beside tables with lamps that looked entirely too inviting. The bedding was sheer white and completely crease free, only adding to its appeal. There was a smaller television in here too, along with a dressing table and a large, ornate wardrobe that looked older than the cabin itself.

"What do you think Mrs Weasley?" George asks from behind you as you pause to run your hand over the ornately carved bed frame. You turn to see him leaning against the doorframe with a smirk, still wearing his wedding suit but now with his tie removed and a few buttons open near his collar.

"I think it's absolutely beautiful Mr Weasley," you reply, turning to him with a look of pure elation.

"Just like my wife then," he says with a look in his eyes that makes your pulse race. He steps towards you with clear conviction and it's all you can do not to melt into a puddle, the look in his eye so dangerously arousing that you're almost frozen to the spot. It was the first time he'd called you his wife and the reaction that it pulled from your body was almost unbelievable, the sound of it almost heavenly in your mind.

As soon as he reaches you, there's a brief pause as if he's searching your face for any hint of resistance, not that he'd find any. When he sees the look in your eye, knowing that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you, he steps even closer and wraps his hand around the back of your neck before leaning down and kissing you with a burning passion.

Your hands slip up to his chest, feeling the material of his lapels under your fingers and pull slightly, needing to feel him as close to you as possible as you pull his jacket off. His fingers tangle in your hair as the kiss deepens, tongues working together to fuel the burning desire between you both.

With his right hand cradling your head and his left clutching as your waist, he begins leading you to the side of the bed, silently asking if it was okay to go further.

"Make love to me George," you say against his lips, hardly wanting to pull away for even a second. You hear him groan against your lips before his hand slips from your hair and down to your butt, cradling you and taking your weight. In a move that would otherwise impress you if you'd seen it in person, he sweeps you off your feet whilst climbing onto the bed and lays you down softly before climbing over you, kicking off his shoes in the process.

"I've waited all day to rip this dress off of you," he mumbles against your skin as he begins kissing down your neck, onto your bare shoulders where your dress straps began, the soft layers of the gown suddenly feeling much too restrictive as your skin burnt up with desire. He kisses down your chest as your hands tangle in his slightly grown out hair. There's a single moment where your eyes meet, just as he hovers over your panting cleavage and it takes your breath away how absolutely sexy he looks, the desire and admiration in his eyes mirroring your own. His long fingers drag against your rib cage as they dance over to your covered breasts before he reaches in to pull down the cup of dress, exposing your right breast to him, your dusky pink nipple already hard and waiting for him. He groans, watching your breast spring free and immediately bends down to run his tongue over the pebbled nipple, eliciting a deep, breathy moan from you before his lips wrap about the little bud and begin sucking. You moan out again, throwing your head back into the pillows at the overwhelming sensation and suddenly you feel the whole atmosphere change. There's no trepidation anymore, no resistance or questioning but rather just a primal urge between both of you.

You can tell that George is feeling for the opening your dress so you divert his fingers to the small, concealed zipper on the side and help him drag it down, much too slowly for your liking. He pulls away the dress after you slip your arms out and you watch carefully as his mouth slips open to a little 'o' shape as he pulls the dress from your body, exposing you completely to his gaze. You couldn't wear a bra with your dress thanks to the unique straps but you had thought you buy a tiny white lace thong that you'd had embroidered with a little 'W' on the left side of the crotch, knowing it would either make him laugh or make him growl. Luckily for you, it was most certainly the latter as he groaned as he spotted it, momentarily fixated on your naked breasts that were exposed completely for his view, his eyes travelling down your body with acute precision before he eventually noticed your little customisation. He groans and leans down to press a kiss directly to where the 'W' was situated, just above your mound and you can't help but squirm as the sensation of having him so close to where you needed him. He notices, of course he does, and his eyes flick up to yours with a look of pure mischief as he begins kissing the inside of your thigh and across your bikini line, teasing you. You groan and can't help but roll your hips as he flutters kisses everywhere apart from where you need them.

"My beautiful wife needs something?" He teases, acting completely oblivious when you knew he was very aware.

"Please George," you beg, "need you."

Like a switch had been flicked in George's mind, his long fingers begin tracing your pussy through the very thin and nearly transparent lace, groaning once again when he feels the wetness seeping through the lace. You feel his fingers hook into the side of your thong, catching your labia with a little stroke before he pulls them away from your burning pussy, exposing you completely to his view. He wastes no time and leans down, licking a long stripe across your pussy, catching your swollen clit with the til of his tongue in the most perfect way that has you gasping and moaning.

"Fuck you taste good, so sweet," he whines into your pussy, resting his forehead against your mound for a moment before he slips down again, this time licking you with vigour. "So wet baby."

His tongue is everywhere, delicately stroking and teasing whilst also hitting every spot you need him in perfectly. It's a perfect juxtaposition between his igniting a fire inside of you, making you burn with desire and pure torment whilst also extinguishing the flames with his tongue. As soon as his finger traces your inner lips as it moves down, gently pressing into your waiting hole before he slips one of his long, deft fingers inside of you, you're gone. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, hips rising of their own accord as you grope your breasts, completely consumed by your pleasure. He slips a second finger into you as you cry out, fucking yourself on his fingers as he circles your clit with his tongue, putting pressure on the left side just as he's discovered drives you crazy.

"George, George!" You chant as you feel the beginning of your orgasm rising in you very quickly, consuming you and burning you from the inside out. Your pussy is drenched and you can feel more arousal gushing from you as your climax crests, George's own moans ringing out in your mind as he pushes you over the edge. It's like you're falling, the crescendo of light and burning arousal overtaking your whole body and mind, the only capable thought in your mind is of George. He licks you slowly as you come down, careful to avoid your sensitive clit as he laps up your cum, fingers still slowly fucking you bath and forth with gentle strokes, extending your pleasure.

You gasp to catch your breath, chest rising and falling rapidly as your heart pounds, the effects of your orgasm still lingering as you feel a tingle across your whole body. It takes all of ten seconds for you to focus your attention back to George who has pulled his fingers out of you and began kissing your inner thigh again, soothing you as you return to him.

You sit up and reach for him, pulling him on top of you as you kiss him feverishly, moaning as you taste yourself on his lips. He notices and groans deeply against your lips, almost growling as you lick at his lips, desperate for a taste. You claw at his shirt, desperate to even out your nudity and feel his skin against yours and as if he can sense the sheer desperation, reaches down and completely rips the front of his shirt, the flying and falling buttons only an afterthought as you fight to get the shredded shirt away from his body. Your hands slip to his smooth shoulders and down his back as you kiss him desperately, pulling his tongue into your mouth so you can suck on it, relishing in his deep groans and little whines. Your hands rest on his collarbones as you slowly pull away from him, pushing him slightly until he realises was you want. You overpower him with just enough force that he rolls onto his back as you immediately latch to his chest, kissing and biting as you make your way down to your destination.

His suit trousers are completely tented, the sheer size an excitement of him almost intimidating to you as you fight to open the fastenings of his trousers. You don't wait even a moment after they are open to slide them down his hips, along with his black boxer briefs until he was completely bare, except from his sentimental chain and your wedding rings. You crawl back up the bed after throwing aside his bottoms and flick your eyes up to see his own desperate look as you come face to face with his rather impressive member. His lips are parted and he looks completely desperate as he watches you carefully, silently pleading for you to take his aching length in your mouth. You grant him reprieve almost instantly, licking straight from the crest of his balls to the engorged tip of his cock, tracing the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock, following the gentle curve. He cries out at the contact and it makes you want to do everything in your power to hear it over and over again.

You gave into him completely, taking his tip in your mouth and licking all around, earning another heavenly noise from him before you sucked in your cheeks and bobbed up and down his length, taking him deeper and deeper with each fall; never stopping your tongue from running along the length of him. You were addicted to him, the taste, the weight of his length against your tongue, the feel of his smooth skin against your lips. You fought to go further with each bob, sucking him down like the most delicious treat from Honeydukes, giving everything you could.

George was moaning mess before you, desperately searching for any part of your body he could reach as he fought to stop his hips from rising each time you'd pull off, like he never wanted to leave your hot, wet mouth. Sweet names, curses and a load more expletives fell from his mouth as you pleasured him until he reached out, leaning forward to pull you closer to him.

You were dripping, more aroused than ever and so desperate for him to fill you that it was all you could think about. He pauses, looking at the little strip of lace that was still misplaced, concealing nothing of yourself and ripped the thin strings on the sides, tearing it away from your body, both of you complete bare to the other's gaze.

It was so intimate and intense that it stole the breath from your lungs, just how adoringly he was gazing at you. His hand grabbed around your neck, holding your face and threading into your hair as he kissed you completely without abandon, your chests pressed together as your leg slipped between his, desperately seeking friction.

"Ride me baby," he mumbles against your lips and as if acting directly on command, you comply. You lift your hips and straddle him, his narrow hips allowing your thighs to rest against his comfortably as your centres align, the heat and sensitivity joining together to make you both gasp.

He reaches down and holds his perfect cock at the bottom, ready for you to climb onto and you can hardly contain your cries as you slowly sink down, feeling him stretching you out. He pulls his hand away, moaning at the sensation as his hand rests on your bum, the large hand and long fingers wrapping around your bum and thigh.

It's sinful how well he stretches you out, filling you completely without any pain or discomfort, like you'd been moulded perfectly for his cock alone.

When your hips rise again and you sink back down, this time much more confidently, your head flips back at the sensation. George grunts and tightens his grip on you as you slowly begin to ride him, hips undulating and breasts bouncing as you fall into a perfect rhythm. Your hair fans out across your back and you've never felt sexier in that moment, feeling adored under his gaze and praised by not only his words but also his moans and growls.

You're both so worked up, so perfectly in sync that you can hardly contain yourself, not even caring to try and hold off the impending climax that threatens you, creeping up slowly until it's impossible to resist. You can feel your walls clenching around him, your arousal peaking as it leaks out around his cock and you're rewarded with the most incredible moans that spill from his lips at the sensation.

"George, Georgie I'm gonna," you stagger, completely breathless as you keep riding him, finding the perfect spot and movement so that he hits every single pleasure point inside you.

"Cum Angel, fuck, cum around my cock," he pants, groaning and tightening his grip on your hips as he fucks up into you. "Godric you're tight, perfect little pussy squeezing my cock so good. Cum for me Angel."

You chant his name as the heat of your second orgasm consumes you, never once stopping as you bounce on his cock. He takes over fucking up into you as you ride out your climax, filling you completely as he shoves his entire length into you before pulling almost completely out and repeating the motion. You're in complete bliss, overwhelmingly so, and can hardly stop tears of overstimulation brimming at your eyes, blurring your vision only slightly. George lets out a roar as he cums, fucking up into you with a brutal pace that is sinful at best. His hands pull you close to him, bruises forming under his grip but it's perfect.

His thrust stop slowly as he comes down from his high, riding out the last of his pleasure as he pulls you down to rest on him, softening cock slipping out at the angle. You breathe deeply as you feel the evidence of his pleasure slipping out of you slowly, trickling down until it dripped onto your inner thighs.

He cranes his neck to reach out to kiss you again, though this time it's like a warm down, gentle and sensitive.

"Welcome to the family," he wheezes after a few moments of comfortable silence and you let out a loud belly laugh at the absurdity of his words, tapping his chest as you slink down to rest beside him, his arm still keeping you pressed to him. He's covered you both with the duvet and you can't resist slipping into a very comfortable sleep, too comfortable and worn out from the day to fight it.

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[cherryslyce]

Second Son (X) | 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: Y/N faces the music and has a talk with Harry. Yule Break rolls around and Regulus makes a breakthrough.

Part IX / Part XI / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: Little cliffhanger, oops. Also, yes, we are making progress towards learning the truth (more portrait lore, yay).

The watch stands for the Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match were brimming in excitement, the student body’s energy revitalized by the appointment of Ron as Gryffindor’s keeper. Standing next to Hermione, you can’t help the exhilaration that swims through your veins, glad that there was a buffer in the grim mood that shadowed over the school year. 

The sharp fweet of Madam Hooch’s whistle signals the start of the match, and enthusiastic shouts begin to erupt from all around you. These cheers only grew in volume as Ron’s flawless performance became apparent to all the watchers. 

You hadn’t realized your friend was this good.

As if reading your thoughts, Hermione leans over to you as Ron manages to knock away the quaffle again, “Harry dosed him with Felix Felicis during breakfast.” 

Quirking your head at the revelation, your eyes follow Ginny’s zipping figure around the field, thoroughly impressed by both Weasleys’ playing. 

“Somehow I doubt that. Harry’s sweet, but he’s not wasteful. There are better things to use the concoction on, no?” Hermione doesn’t respond to your words, but you feel her shift at the implications of them, likely agreeing. 

If your friend group were leading ordinary lives, using Felix Felicis on arbitrary things like Quidditch matches would be fine, if not expected, but with Voldemort lurking about, the liquid could probably be put to better use. 

As the game continues on, you’re hardly surprised when Gryffindor begins to lead by a landslide before ultimately coming out victorious. As everyone explodes in celebration, you quickly slink away from the boisterous crowd, not quite in a partying mood. You had heard Dean talking before the match, and he had mentioned that the party would be open to any house–though, you didn’t suspect many Slytherins would attend anyway.

You figured that the celebration would drag on for hours on end which gave you quite some time to wander without peering eyes.

Roaming the grounds of the castle for a while, you feel lonelier than usual, not having Regulus in your pocket. Despite the boy’s history as a quidditch player himself, he opted to remain in your dorm, stating that he needed peace and quiet. You couldn’t fault him, the both of you were feeling unnerved with every passing day as Harry seemed to pointedly avoid the topic of Regulus’ existence. 

A part of you hoped that he perhaps forgot about the whole ordeal or thought it to be trivial, but you knew he was likely just busy with trying to con Slughorn. 

Feeling the chill of the weather bite at your fingers, you decide to make your way back inside the castle. As you quietly pad through the halls, you’re shaken from your thoughts as a deep voice echoes around the walls, “L/N. Surprised to see you here.” 

Spinning around, you see a familiar figure walking towards you with a small smirk. The faint sag in his shoulders was the only indication that he was fatigued from the quidditch match. 

“Zabini. Shouldn’t you be off sulking with the rest of the Slytherin team?” Your words are tinged with amusement and you spin back around, knowing that the boy would eventually catch up to you. 

As you round the corner, Blaise manages to fall into step with you, “Moping has never been a strong suit of mine.” 

“I suppose tantrums would mar that whole quintessential gentility image you have going on. What about comfort? Is that something you’re adept with?” You weren’t sure what exactly you were hoping to achieve from the conversation, but becoming familiar with the Slytherin may prove beneficial in the future. 

Blaise lets out a quiet chuckle at your words, “Are you asking me to console you, L/N?” 

“Forget me, you’re not really my type. It’s your little peacock who seems awfully peaky as of late. He nearly bit my head off in the library the other day.” You roll your eyes, recalling the strange encounter you had with the Malfoy heir. 

The boy was acting awfully suspicious.

Blaise seems to straighten up at your words, eyes flickering quickly around the hall as he understands your insinuation, “Draco can take care of himself.” 

“If you’re sure.” Your words come out just above a whisper, and you’re left to your thoughts as Blaise seems content with just walking in silence. 

Not minding the boy’s presence, you began to think about possible avenues of research you could explore to try and solve the mystery of Regulus’ existence, wanting to find answers for not only yourself, but Regulus as well. Merlin, how the boy wasn’t mad for answers was beyond you. 

A few moments pass before you’re struck with a thought that has you pausing in your tracks. Blaise is quick to follow, turning to look at your contemplative expression, “Should I be worried that you’re plotting my murder, L/N?” 

“Quite the contrary, Zabini. How do you feel about making these meetings a regular thing?” Your smile is only a tad inscrutable, but you can see the interest glinting brightly in the boy’s eyes. 

“Are you sure you’re not interested in me, L/N? I wouldn’t fault you if you were.” His words have you rolling your eyes, but you can’t help the victorious feeling that bloats in your stomach as you see him let his guard down. 

“Really, you’re not my type. I’m just asking if you want to be…friends, I guess you could say.” You try to plaster on the most companionable smile you can manage. Come on Zabini, accept the olive branch.

Blaise hums in thought before turning around, and for a moment you’re afraid he’s going to ignore your request. Following him quickly, Blaise tosses you a small smile before replying, “I suppose you’ll have to tell me what your type is since we’re friends now.”  

You breathe out a small laugh, “Hard to describe, but let’s just say I have a thing for men that are a bit emotionally constipated. A touch of cynicism and awkward affection never hurt anyone either.” It was hard to put into words, but Regulus had a certain way of jarring you everyday, and his occasional niceties always had your stomach fluttering wildly. Not to mention your bloody patronus was all thanks to him. 

“A certain slytherin, then?” Blaise’s words come out light, but you can see the wild interest flying around in his gaze. 

Shaking your head, you can only sigh at the boy’s quick thinking, “How’d you know?” 

“Well, no one is better than me, but I suppose a fellow Slytherin is acceptable. Also, your ring. Two snakes? Subtle.” Your eyes shoot down to the ring you’ve been subconsciously twirling on your finger, and you gape at Blaise’s amused expression. 

Before you can respond, you’re both distracted by the sight of Harry and Hermione. The pair are sat at the bottom of the stairs, Hermione clearly upset over something, while Harry was trying his best to silently comfort her. Shooting an apologetic glance at the Slytherin, you’re met with a hum of understanding before he’s walking off. 

“See you around, Y/N.” 

As you wave at the Slytherin’s retreating figure, you see Harry shoot you a confused look. 

Great, another topic of conversation we need to discuss. 

Walking over to the pair, you crouch down in front of Hermione, whose eyes are red-rimmed and puffy from crying. 

“What happened, ‘Mione? Do I need to hex someone?” Hermione’s only response is a watery laugh before she’s wiping furiously at her eyes and nose. 

You look to Harry for an answer and he winces before quietly answering, “Ron and Lavender.” 

Well. That’s an unexpected pair. 

“Shall I kill the both of them?” Your voice comes out completely flat and serious, but it’s enough to have Hermione smiling down at you before seemingly calming herself. 

“It doesn’t matter. He can be with whomever he wants.” She is quick to jump up from her spot, “Now, I’ll see you both before dinner then?”

Without waiting for a verbal reply, Hermione clambers up the stairs and out of your sight, leaving you alone with Harry. The boy simply juts his chin at the newly empty spot beside him, looking at you with poorly veiled anticipation. 

Slowly lowering yourself down next to him, you both stare straight ahead in silence. It seems like hours pass as you both sit on the cold stone steps, hoping that the other would speak first. 

Harry slowly reaches for his wand, casting a quiet muffliato, before speaking, “So, Regulus Black.” 

“Yeah.” You nod slowly and fiddle with your ring, unable to bring yourself to say much more unprompted. 

Harry swallows harshly before continuing, “It wasn’t a photo, was it? I thought about it some more, and he was a portrait.” He turns his head slightly and chances a glance at you, “Right?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek in contemplation, unsure of how to respond to his remark without accidentally word-vomiting. 

“Cats out of the bag, I guess.” Your voice is weak, but you feel relieved when Harry looks over and smiles at you. Good to know he doesn’t hate you.

“Sirius doesn’t know.” It isn't a question, but rather a statement–one that has you hesitantly nodding. 

You lean your head down on his shoulder tiredly, mumbling out a small excuse, “Reggie wasn’t ready. We were figuring some things out for ourselves for a while, and he has this annoying gap in his memory that I’m trying to learn more about.” 

“Reggie?” You feel Harry turn his head down to peer at you, “Okay. Uhm, you don’t have to tell me everything now, but maybe when he’s up for it, you can bring him round to Sirius?” 

Tugging your jacket tighter around your curled form, you nod against his shoulder before whispering a small thanks to the boy. It wasn’t the lengthy exchange you were expecting, but you weren’t upset about how it went. Actually, this was probably the best case scenario. 

“So…Blaise?” His words are teasing and you’re surprised that he’s not accusing you of colluding with the boy, especially given how suspicious he’s been of Draco. 

Groaning at the implications of his words, you shake your head fervently, “Absolutely not. We’re just friends, kinda. Honestly, he’s not so bad and I’m hoping that it can be a mutually beneficial friendship. Blaise’s mother has connections spanning the entirety of Europe, and I’m hoping that maybe I can learn some more about Regulus’ predicament if I get some help.” 

“I see. If not Blaise, then Regulus?” Harry’s finger pokes into your ribs as he tries to fight the wide grin pulling at his lips. 

“What?” Your voice comes out strained, but bewildered and it has Harry smiling cheekily. 

“Well, he is quite handsome isn’t he?” Harry pauses before continuing, “Not as handsome as Sirius, though.” 

Shaking your head, you respond woefully, “I will absolutely be telling him you said that. But is there something you want to tell me? I thought you were tripping over your own feet for Ginny?” 

Harry emits a loud groan and gently shoves you to the side, ears flushing beet red. You laugh at your friend’s disgruntled expression and bask in the happy moment, satisfied that you lifted his spirits up. 

The following weeks spin by in a blur, and you’re barely able to take the time to appreciate how uneventful it was. It was the night before Yule Break and you were draped over one of the library tables, head pressed against the cool wood as mountains of scrolls and parchments surrounded your motionless figure. 

You had packed away your things the night before, excited to spend the break with Harry and Sirius at Grimmauld Place (of course, you secretly had your own agenda). Harry was planning on heading to the Burrow for the second half of the break, which would leave you to attend to the recovering Black Lord by your lonesome. 

Hopefully, you could enlist the help of Remus so you could sneak away and explore. 

‘Have you died, little bird?’ Regulus’ voice is airy as it rings in your head. 

‘Unfortunately not. Mind putting me out of my misery?’ The sudden exchange has you peeling your heavy eyes open to stare at a blank parchment next to your head. Your bleary vision slowly warps and dances before focusing. 

‘You’ll have more than enough time to finish work over the break. Go rest unless you wish to miss the train tomorrow morning.’ 

‘I won’t miss it, I have you, my little alarm clock.’ Your tone is sickly sweet, and you could almost feel the way Regulus rolls his eyes at your words. Though, you supposed he was right, it would do you little good to be sleep-deprived on the first day of break. 

Beginning to sort through the mayhem of papers on the table, you barely hear his response, ‘It is truly unfortunate that I am unable to dump water on you then.’ 

‘How gauche, Reg. Besides, you wouldn’t. You love me too much.’ 

Reg doesn’t even pause before he retorts, ‘I’m keen on tough love.’ 

‘Not my observation, you’re a big teddy bear.’ Your smile doesn’t falter, even when you hear footsteps echoing nearby. 

‘A little ironic coming from a bleeding heart.’ 

‘Oh hush, don’t act like it runs for anyone other than you.’ You feel your face heat up at the admission, realizing that it was the farthest you’ve ever gotten at verbalizing your feelings. 

‘I suppose we both make exceptions for each other, birdie.’ 

His words have your face blossoming in warmth, and your hand pauses to hover over your bag. The drumming of your heart failed to cease even as you laid down on your bed later that night. In fact, it only grew worse when Regulus shot you a teasing smile as you rolled over to peer at his portrait. 

Merlin.

The start to your Yule Break was confusing to say the least. 

It was merely your first day back at Grimmauld Place and a sudden swelling of magical energy coming from your pocket had you frantically pacing back and forth in the disappearing room.

Regulus’ portrait had suddenly thrummed with wound up magic the moment Sirius stalked over to give you a firm hug as you settled into the home. The reaction was almost instantaneous, with Sirius even drawing back in confusion, having felt something faintly draw at his magical energy. 

You were quick to make an excuse to run up the top floor, practically barreling through the familiar door once you caught sight of the crystal knob. 

Regulus was currently propped up on the dresser, eyes glazed over as he remained unresponsive. You could feel Sirius’ magic wrapping around the frame and interlacing with the faint magic emitting from the object, only further piquing your curiosity.  

After a few more rounds of circling the room, you’re dragged from your pool of thoughts at the sound of Regulus’s voice. 

“Birdie.” It comes out strained, like he was still trying to sort out his thoughts. 

You practically fly over to the aged furniture, pressing your hands against the edge of the dark wood in worry, “Reg. Are you okay? What happened? Should I do something?” 

Regulus smiles softly at the flurry of questions, curls shaking as he tilts his head, “One question at a time. But yes, I’m alright. As for what happened…that’s a bit more convoluted.” 

“It’s okay, take your time. Sirius thinks that I’m off organizing my classwork anyway,” You drawl quietly. 

“Good thinking, my brother was always amusingly frightened by academic diligence.” Regulus’ musing has you propping your elbows on the dresser, keen on allowing the boy to guide the conversation. 

“Frightened he may be, but I think he’s fond of me now that he knows I’ve saved his life, twice.” You raise two fingers and wiggle them for emphasis, managing to nick a small grin from Regulus. 

“I remembered something. When Sirius hugged you, it seemed to dismantle some kind of block in my memory.” Regulus’ words come out dryly, but he’s still smiling at you like you hung the stars in the sky. 

You feel your eyes widen at his words, “That’s fantastic, Reg!” You pause before leaning back, “Right? That’s good, right?” 

The boy nods, before he sweeps a hand to push back his curls, “It’s amazing. Overwhelming, but amazing. It’s just, with the block gone, I remember everything. Including that two week gap before my death.” 

Your breath hitches, “So, human-Regulus put the block into place then?” 

Regulus nods slowly in confirmation, “Yes. Why he did it though still remains a little fuzzy to me. As of now, I only really can make sense of a few details, mostly about the Dark Lord.”

Your lips part as you try to formulate a coherent sentence, but you’re too surprised by the revelation to say anything, so Regulus continues, “Birdie, the Dark Lord was creating horcruxes. That’s likely how I met my demise. I remember it. Shortly before I–human-me disappeared, he was frantic over it.”

“Horcruxes?” The word feels bitter on your tongue, but you fall short on an answer for what it might mean, “I haven’t heard of such a thing before. Do you reckon that Harry has?”

“I think so. If not him, then Dumbledore might have an inkling of suspicion.” Seeing your questioning gaze, Regulus sighs and lifts his eyes to meet yours, “I’m not too familiar with what a horcrux is exactly, but I do know it’s a horrifically dark artifact. One capable of splitting someone’s soul through means of murder.” 

“Soul splitting? That sure has ‘Voldemort’ written all over it.” Your breathy laugh does nothing to relieve the sudden pressure in your chest, realizing that Voldemort was much more than just a psychotic wizard deluded by prophecies. 

Shaking your head, you force your anxiety aside, “It’s okay. If Dumbledore has an idea of it, then maybe there’s still a chance after all. Let’s skip over this right now, it’ll do us no good to spoil Yule so early. We can approach Harry about it after the break.” 

Regulus slowly nods, he too, investing his hopes in the eclectic headmaster, “Alright. There is something else I remember. I don’t know as much about it though since human-me was a bit hush hush on the subject. That, or he thought it wasn’t worth indulging after the whole horcrux news.” You bite down a laugh as Regulus rolls his eyes at the thought.

“Oh? Do tell.” You lean forward on your toes, pressing your weight fully on the dresser. 

“It might be in one of the boxes here. It’s some kind of rare book or journal that my Uncle Alphard gifted to me the year everything fell into chaos,” Regulus relays. 

Perking up, you quickly shuffle over to the dusty boxes in the middle of the room, bent on finding out what the boy was talking about. As you rifled through the endless pool of miscellaneous items, your fingers suddenly bump against a leathery surface at the bottom of a particular buried box. 

Fishing out the promising item, you let out a triumphant cry as you hold the book up in the air, “Reggie, is it this one?” You clamber off the floor and practically thrust the tome into the portrait. 

“Bingo. Good job, little bird.” Regulus’ words are colored in excitement and you’re reluctant to take away the book to read the title, knowing that Regulus was eager to look at the book as well. 

Slowly, you retract the item and flip it over, reading the words etched across the dusty orange cover. 

Fuck.

“It’s in Norwegian!” Your cry of dismay has Regulus raising his eyebrows. 

Seeming to take pity on your defeated form, which was slowly sinking onto the floor again, Regulus quickly comes up with a solution, “Birdie, just use a translation charm.” 

“Oh. Right.” You frown lightly at the realization, profusely apologizing to Professor Flitwick under your breath. Some Charms maven, you were.

“Don’t get too excited yet. You should go eat something, I can feel your brain fog from here,” Regulus’ teasing only draws a groan from your slumped form. 

Whipping out your wand, you cast a quiet reducio at the book, thankful that the disappearing room seemed to block out the trace on your wand. You were careless when you first shrank Regulus’ portrait before fifth year, forgetting about the underage magic trace, but luckily the Ministry never owled you a letter of warning. 

Tucking away Regulus and the leather book in your pockets, you swiftly make your way out of the room and down the dimly lit stairs, hands reaching to rub your empty stomach. One thing you didn’t miss during your times at Grimmauld Place was the lack of proper food. Kreacher could cook decently when he wanted to, but he never really seemed to spare an effort when Sirius asked. 

As you enter the threshold of the kitchen, you see a delighted Harry seated at one end of the table, and a flabbergasted Sirius at the other end. 

“Hey guys, what’s up?” Your voice interrupts the silent conversation they were having, with Harry turning to face your approaching figure. 

In spite of Harry’s active attention, it’s Sirius who speaks up, crossing his arms over his chest as he smiles widely, “Prongslet was just telling me about his success in Potions.” 

You nod enthusiastically at the reminder, “Harry is on his way to a Potions Mastery at this rate. Slughorn is practically yodeling his praises.” Your words have Harry rolling his eyes, but Sirius seems even more pleased at the reaction. 

Clapping your hands on Harry’s shoulders, you bring up a pressing matter to the men, “Now, how about we continue this chat over lunch, I’m starved.” 

The next few days of your break are spent following a routine of reading the tome, eating with Harry and Sirius, and surprisingly, exchanging letters with Blaise. 

The Italian heir was quite entertaining to communicate with, even through letters. You both established an unusual bond, and you found yourself finding common ground with him over your interests in dissecting anachronistic pureblood traditions. Blaise was surprisingly progressive about a lot of the political issues that wracked Britain, having grown up in Italy for a long while. 

Apparently British purebloods were the only ones on the upkeep about blood purity. 

You had spent about four days at Grimmauld Place before Harry was off sending a letter to the Burrow, notifying the Weasleys of his approaching visit. 

You were a bit dispirited to have him leaving so soon, but you knew he was eager to see Hermione and Ron (and Ginny, but he would likely send a stinging jinx at you for saying as much). 

It was the day after Harry had left when you decided to do your research more openly, knowing that Sirius had little concern about what books you were reading. As you progressed in your studying of the Norwegian tome, you realized that the book was concerned with discussions and theories on magical essences and their temperament, which was interesting to say the least. 

You could feel it. The truth behind Regulus’ portrait was somewhere in this book.

Though you knew very little about the capabilities of magical essences, you realized that you were much more in tune with reading and feeling other wizard’s magic, so if anyone could figure it out, it would be you. No, it had to be you. 

“Are you sure you didn’t want to tag along with Prongslet, kid?” Sirius’ voice has you raising your head from your reading, the man casually propping his feet on the opposite end of the table. 

“If I’m not here, who will look after you, old man?” You mused. 

Sirius huffs in indignation, “I’m not some pallid geriatric. I’ll be fine on my own. Besides, wouldn’t you rather be off with Molly? I know it’s not my cooking that’s keeping you here.” 

“If you keep complaining, I just might regret my decision. But nah, I like it here. Plus the Burrow is too loud to get work done.” You droned as you brought your gaze back to the text in front of you. 

“Your head is always halfway down a book, kid. You know…you remind me a lot of my brother, he was a huffy scholar growing up.” Sirius’ voice is even, but as you flicker your eyes up to meet his, you can see the undeniable grief lingering in them. 

Sitting up, you clear your throat, “Your brother? Were you guys close?” 

You already knew the answer, having been given a brief rundown of Regulus’ homelife sometime ago during a sleepless night at Hogwarts. 

“Merlin, no. Not when we were older at least. But he used to follow me around as kids, toddling after me with his cherub cheeks and wobbly knees. Admittedly, he was adorable as a youngster. Never had anyone look up to me like he did…then my parents sunk their claws into him.” Sirius seems to be reminiscing more to himself now, words growing quieter with each passing second. 

“Do you miss him?” Your question is barely above a whisper. 

Sirius raises his eyes to study you for a few moments before somberly tapping his knuckles against the table, “Everyday.” 

Reaching into your pocket, you wrap your fingers around the familiar frame, looking back down at the table in contemplation. 

‘Reg...’ 

‘It’s okay.’ Regulus’ words are quiet, his voice sounding choked up. You could tell he was touched and relieved by his brother’s words, unable to hide just how much he missed the man. 

With his approval, you decide to take the leap, “Sirius, I think there’s something you should know about.” 

The man’s eyebrows raise at your words and he leans forward in interest. You inhale shakily as you steel yourself, confidence wavering as different scenarios flurried around in your head. 

Before you can unveil the truth, however, a blast of blue light bursts through the wall and makes its way to the center of the table. 

A stag. 

The appearance of Harry’s familiar patronus has your blood running cold and you leap up from your seat, seeing Sirius slowly rise from his, as well. 

“The Burrow has been attacked. Voldemort knows.” 

The patronus dissipates, and you suddenly can't breathe.

He knows.  

tag list: @krazyk99 @venomsvl @valsarchives @bunny24sstuff @novella12nite @elia-the-bibliophile @txoru @xlifexdeathx @trikigirl271 @the-marauders-world @sleepydang @blueberry-thrawn @lestat-whore @chanaaaannel @clockworkherondale @peachyaeger @thegayhoenextdoor @l--absinthe @ok-boke @anni1309-blog @summer-noir @mikeikax @mysticlockwood-ig @musically-ambiguous @dittos-blog-dylanobrien @friendly-neighborhood-boricua

[artemisiamezzanotte]

Why both Jily and Jegulus make sense in the Marauders Fandom

Okay, so I have been seeing a few posts recently dismissing Jegulus as a ship and, although I am personally more of a Jily than a Jegulus girly, I thought I'd explain why both ships make sense to me in the context of the original source material.

We know that there is a direct link between the Marauders and the Golden Trio in the books, and that each member of one mirrors a member of the other.

James and Harry being the most obvious, as father and son and the perceived 'leader' of their group of friends.

Sirius and Ron, the 'best friend'. Both from pureblood families, although the Blacks and the Weasleys couldn't be more different in their beliefs. Both feel misunderstood and perhaps misplaced in their family. Both give James and Harry unadulterated, solid friendship that is fiercely loyal and unquestioning.

Remus and Hermione, the outcasts. Remus due to his lycanthropy, Hermione due to her muggleborn status. Both try to counterbalance this by excelling in their studies and are, by nature (again, this is in the original books) more rule-followers rather than rebels.

Peter and Neville, the astonished Gryffindors. Both from pureblood families, both equally surprised by being sorted in the house where bravery is valued most. They each deal with impostor syndrome, but whilst Neville's friends build him up and he eventually comes into his own thanks to Dumbledore's Army, Peter fails (or is failed by his friends) in doing so and betrays them for the dark side.

We know that Harry ends up marrying Ginny, who is, like Lily, a magically talented and strong-willed red-haired witch but is also his best friend's younger sibling. So, James falling for Regulus doesn't feel like too far a stretch to me.

Jegulus also gives the opportunities to explore a lot of interesting considerations for writers, such as (i) what is the difference between loving someone as a best friend and loving someone romantically; (ii) you can't choose the family you are born into but you can make your own family as you grow older; (iii) what are the differences in relationship dynamics between partners, lifelong friends and siblings?

I'm sure someone has more cleverly and thoroughly analysed these parallels before but I just wanted to share my unsolicited opinion with the tubmlrverse.

Overall, I would say if you enjoy reading something, read it. If you find yourself not enjoying something, DON'T. Freedom is fickle in this flawed world, so exercise it ruthlessly where you can.

Ok, rant over, Misia out x

[bridenore]

HD longer fics recs : 125k to 150k words

Here are a few recs for fics ranging between 125k and 150k words. 

You can see my recs for fics that have more than 200k here and between 150k and 200k here.

All Our Secrets Laid Bare by @firethesound [149k]

Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on.

Any Instrument by @dictacontrion [131k]

Draco Malfoy wouldn’t go back to England for anything less than an exceptional case. Being asked to figure out why Harry Potter can’t control his magic might be exceptional enough to qualify.

By the Grace by @letteredlettered [139k]

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

Dwelling on Dreams by @the-sinking-ship [135k]

Draco thought he could avoid Potter for the duration of his brief return to England. He’d stick to his schedule and be back home in Paris, where he belonged, in a few short months. No trouble at all. He had plenty to occupy him, what with the opening of the London branch of his successful apothecary, his innovative research, drinks with Pansy, a backlog of unread potions periodicals.

Except Head Auror Potter is everywhere — in Draco’s chair, at his door, in his dreams. All six feet of motorbike-riding, combat-boot-wearing, sex-hair-sporting Saviour of the World packed into one unfairly fetching uniform. Potter won’t leave Draco the bloody hell alone, won’t let him breathe, let him forget, let him sleep.

Because no matter how fast Draco Malfoy runs, Harry Potter is always hot on his heels.

Eight Days A Week by @romaine2424 [121k]

This is foremost a love story and second it’s about those growing up years. Becoming adults with adult lives and adult decisions.

Yes, Harry’s a Trainee-Auror and Draco’s a Healer-in-Training after the war. Yes, Harry eventually moves into 12 Grimmauld Place. And, yes, attraction happens between Harry and Draco and they fall in love, but then there’s more. Draco is now free from Voldemort, free from fear of going to Azkaban, free from his Father’s beliefs, and free to be the person, the witch, the woman she always felt she should be. And for Harry, it’s time to lose the shackles of his childhood and discover who he really is and what’s truly important in life. This story begins one year or so after the Battle at Hogwarts and follows their relationship faithfully for two years. The final chapter will take place later in their lives.

This is a positive transition story without body dysphoria, but will contain moments where prejudice and slights arise. This story is categorized as M/F.

25 Holiday Scenes for Eight Days a Week by @romaine2424 [16k]

Eight Days a Week continues with 25 Holiday Scenes. As of now, they are all family oriented. If that changes, I’ll update the ratings! We begin where we left off in the Main Story (before the epilogue), which is a few weeks after Libby’s surgery. They were married in the summer, and Prim, their daughter was born in September.

Every New Beginning by @fencer-x​ [140k]

“You curl your lip and wrinkle your nose and sneer and call me Saviour, yet you only seek my help at the eleventh hour. That’s what’s fucked up, Malfoy.” || Draco Malfoy is dead, and Harry is absolutely totally fine with that.

Graceless Heart by shushu_yaoi_lj [132k]

Harry is lost and broken after the war. He has gone to countless funerals, broken up with Ginny, moved back into Grimmauld Place—which feels darker and dirtier than ever before despite how much he tries to fix it. He feels lonely and desperate, but he won’t ask for help, and he still can’t cry.

When he agreed to help the Aurors at Malfoy Manor over the summer, he thought that he would be breaking dark curses. Harry never thought that he would actually spend his days sorting out dusty books with Draco Malfoy, or teaching him how to cook.

Little by little, as they begin to navigate their life post-war, Harry and Draco become intimate…in more ways than Harry could have ever expected.

A Sword Laid Aside by @korlaena [128k]

When Draco’s cover is blown during a deep undercover operation and the Ministry is compromised, Ron takes Draco to the only safe place he can think of—Harry. Hiding out with Harry Potter, who has been missing from the Wizarding World for almost two decades after a shocking fall from grace, is nothing like Draco thought it would be.

Taking Chances by @gracerene09​  [135k]

After the war, Draco disappeared and started over in America, vowing never to return to Great Britain and the fraught past he left behind. Unfortunately, when his mates convince him to sign up for an exchange programme for the last year of their Auror Training, Draco learns that he doesn’t have much of a choice in the matter.

That Which Divides Us by oldenuf2nb / @dianacopland [126k]

Three years after what would have been their seventh year at Hogwarts, the war between the forces of light and Voldemort’s minions grinds on. But even within the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix there are vast disagreements over what is good for ‘the Chosen One’ and his volatile relationship with Draco Malfoy has many on edge. Sometimes even the best intentions can reap disaster.

This Ain’t the Garden of Eden by @romaine2424  [131k]

In 2020, Hit Wizard Harry is starting to enjoy his life. He’s divorced, and no longer Head Auror. His biggest project these days is trying to remodel 12 Grimmauld Place for him and the kids.

Draco Malfoy is recovering from his wife’s death. But is happy with his Ministry position as Temporary Head of the Department of Intoxicating Substances, and with his son who he adores.

This all changes quickly when Minister Shacklebolt decides not to run for another term. The assumption is that ‘all is well’ in the British Magical world, and that Hermione Granger-Weasley will easily be voted in as the next Minister for Magic. However, Draco knows better. He knows she has a strong competitor who is wooing those who live in Knockturn. And if he wins, the Ministry, and all that has been accomplished the previous twenty odd years, will be destroyed.

To have a Home by Aulophobia [126k]

Not quite a decade after the war, Draco Malfoy was happy with his quiet little Muggle life in Oxford. He had a small group of friends from the university he’d attended, and colleagues from the law firm where he worked as a solicitor. He played folk music on his violin around the city. And he volunteered to provide legal services getting mostly idiot teenagers out of trouble with the law. His life was full. He had no contact with the magical world, and all was the way he liked it. And the feeling of emptiness in his chest, the feeling some part of him was missing, was at least better than the alternative. Or at least it was until the last few months when he kept getting called down to the police station to get Harry Potter out of trouble. Indecent exposure and possession was one thing, but the latest charge was for murder. OR Harry and Draco find each other again after the war in Oxford, a completely non-magical city. Together they solve the mystery of the city which hates all wizards but them.

What We Pretend We Can’t See by gyzym [131k]

Seven years out from the war, Harry learns the hard truth of old history: it’s never quite as far behind you as you thought.

where all the veins meet by eight_of_wands [146k]

It's the summer of 1998. The battle is over, and Voldemort is dead, but Harry still has more questions than answers. Who is he without a piece of Voldemort's soul in his head? What is he supposed to do now?

His friends try to help, but the only thing that can hold his attention—one of the only things that ever has—is Draco Malfoy, out on parole and weirdly hanging around the British Museum.

As they keep running into each other, Harry sees that Malfoy is different, and he wonders if he can be someone else, too.

Featuring rumpled band shirts, poker games everyone hates, fumbling sex, and a Harry going a little mental over how wands even work.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[noxxytocin]

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Harry Potter Summary: Harry Potter’s life is finally smooth sailing—he’s dating Ginny, the wizarding world is rebuilding, and he’s a top Auror. But at the 10th-anniversary celebration, just as he’s about to give a heartfelt speech, the unexpected happens: Harry is snatched away and later finds himself in a place as grim as its master. Trapped and facing a fate more dreadful than he could imagine, Harry’s life is about to be turned entirely on its head.

Tags: Tomarry, Post-Hogwarts, 10 Years Later, Mystery, No Time Travel, Tension, Abduction, Fluff, Comfort, there's some hetero mention in the beginning but I promise this is a queer fic, Harry and Tom are gay, Harry is so done with Tom's sh*t, Harry is dramatic and whiny, Tom could care less, Sexuality Conflict, Hostage Situation, Power Dynamics, Manipulation, Magical Asphyxiation, there's porn eventually I promise, Feel the Slow Burn

Rating: E

For @captivousfest 🫴✨

[xxlittle0birdxx]

The music abruptly stopped, and a few minutes later, the door opened a mere crack. One bright green eye appeared, followed by the rest of Harry, clad in an old and faded Fitchburg Finches t-shirt and an equally ragged pair of joggers. ‘I should have called,’ Ginny said, all at once self-conscious. ‘I listened to the match, and for some stupid reason thought you’d like…’ She trailed off, face reddening. 'This didn't sound nearly as stupid in my head. I thought you might like some company, but clearly you'd rather be alone.'

Harry opened the door wider and gestured for her to come inside before she could babble her way off his doorstep. ‘Never call,’ he said. ‘Always show up.’

[strawbsstarz]

Pt. II Rewrite the Stars: Draco Malfoy x reader

im sorry it seems rushed i just wanted to give you guys a happy ending T_T i had lots to do, i am not doing a series type again its too advanced for me- too much pressure to keep up (maybe in the far future) its also so long mb

Warning: Angst

Pt 1 HERE

~

The night you impulsively decided to leave him alone in that tower was the worst night of your life. You had tiptoed into your dorm, trying not to wake your roommates up, slipping into the blankets. You desperately tried to make yourself comfortable, but the nagging sound of your heart beating in your chest was ringing in your ears, and your head was banging from the running thoughts of what had just occurred. You tried to hold in the emotions you felt- that you've been feeling, but it was impossible. The silent night and the sound of your roommates soft breathing, you couldn't stop the flow of the questions that had begun to compile itself in your brain, does this mean it's over? And with that realization you silently wept into your pillow covering your sobs.

The next couple of days seemed to blend in together, you had missed your classes using the excuse of not feeling well. It was believable-with how much you cried: your face was pale, you had a red runny nose, no one questioned a thing. You knew you couldn't avoid him forever though. When you finally allowed yourself to process the events that had happened, you felt strong enough to see him. You felt confident in avoiding him without having a breakdown.

Days had passed, and eventually it turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. There was no sign of Draco. Where could he have gone? Your heart yearned for him, even if whatever you two had was now unofficially over because of your stupidity of wanting more- you still searched for him in every room. You wondered why he's been gone for months, could it be because of- no, you shook your head it can't be because of that, right? Every time you wonder his whereabouts and why he's been absent, your assumption almost always wanders off into what Harry had told you a couple of months ago. There's no way Draco would agree to that..

You were walking to potions when a voice had called out to you,

"Y/N!"

Recognizing the voice you turn your head to the proclaimed chosen one, offering a wave and a smile.

"I've been looking for you, do you remember what I told you a couple months ago?" He asked as he catches up to you.

"About your crush on Ginny?" You teased.

He blushes and his hand rubs the back of his neck looking down, "N-No!" He looks around, and with a hushed voice, he comes closer, "About Malfoy.."

You freeze, standing in place for a second before beginning to walk again to class hoping that he didn't notice, "U-uh yeah? What about it?"

Truthfully, no matter how much you tell yourself to not meddle anymore in Draco's business, you can't help feeling worried, so if this is the only way you would get to know about where he was, then fine, so be it. Even if the idea of it all made your heart ache even more.

"I overheard him talking to Snape about something a couple of days ago-"

"Wait- wait he's back?" You questioned.

"I think they're planning something Y/N-" He sighs, "I'm just warning you to be careful okay?"

You nodded cautiously and as you two had begun walking into class, you made your way to your assigned seat near the front. You wondered if Harry is overthinking his claims, but if he overheard something suspicious, does this mean that all his assumptions about Draco were true?

You began to space off, until a familiar scent of expensive cologne and mint had caught your attention and you held in your breath. Shit. You completely forgot he sat next to you during potions. With how long you haven't seen him, you didn't expect him to sit next to you especially after that night.

It had been months, months since you last smelled his cologne, him. You didn't dare meet his eyes, and he didn't dare meet yours. You lowered your head to look at the quill and paper in front of you. He sighs as he stares at the front of the class waiting to start.

"Can't believe you've already moved on to Potter," he muttered under his breath. You couldn't even register what he had said, because your mind was solely focused on how much you missed his voice.

"How have you been?" You asked, still looking down as you began twiddling with your fingers. Even though you refuse to look at him, his eyes are fixed on you, from the second he walked into this room, from the hallway when you walked with Potter, it was on you.

Before he could answer, class had begun. The entire time you tried your best to avoid his gaze, to avoid meeting his eyes. You didn't know what would happen if you saw his eyes, saw his face. You were too scared to face him. However, it was the complete opposite for him. He kept stealing glances in your direction, as if making sure that it was you right next to him. He couldn't believe it.

Unbeknownst to you, these past couple of months were horrid for him. He had missed school because the Dark Lord had requested for him to attend the death eaters meetings and considering how his family almost always hosted them, he had no choice but to go. He felt restless every night, especially since his childhood home was now being used as a hotel for the most dangerous wizards known. He couldn't stop worrying and thinking about you, wondering how you were. Every night he laid in his bed with images of you in his head- memories you two had spent together. He felt himself constantly playing with his family ring every time he felt restless, and his thoughts would always wander to how the spaces between his fingers felt empty without yours intertwined in them.

And now that you were next to him, he couldn't take his eyes off of you. You were merely inches away from him, and even though he craved to feel you against him once again after all this time, he bites the inside of his tongue, to snap himself out of it. He recalls the promise he made to himself that night, and that is to keep you alive.

He managed to hold himself back, practically running out of the classroom after dismissal. You watched his fleeting figure go, disappointed that you didn't get the chance to talk to him more. Sighing in defeat, you made your way back to your next class.

You had successfully managed to distract yourself that day, and the days after. You didn't know what you wanted, you had decided to break it off with him and he never chased after you. Yes, you were heartbroken, but you still hoped for him to come back to you, you thought that maybe, just maybe, he would be willing to try things to make it work.

You sighed as you leaned forward on the railing at the Astronomy Tower. Even after months had passed, you still found yourself up here, even when Draco was nowhere to be found, you were still here, waiting. You sighed once again, nostalgically remembering him again. You stared at the stars and recalled how you would trace his face with your fingers under the moonlight. You remembered him closing his eyes, humming a tune that you doubt was even a song, but it was beautiful, nonetheless.

Footsteps echoed from the door. You backed away into a shadow, afraid of getting caught. After a couple of seconds, a figure appeared in the entrance, the familiar blonde coming into view. This was the first time in months since you've seen his face. Despite talking to him earlier, you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, so you never noticed how much weight he lost, and how he looks paler than usual but even despite all of that, he looked just as handsome as you remembered.

"Draco?" You stepped out of the shadows walking towards him. When he saw you, his eyes widened in surprise,

"Y/N.." He hesitates, "I didn't think you'd be up here.."

You shrug and walked towards him, "Force of habit, really."

He looks at you for a moment, before putting his hands in his pockets, giving a slight nod. He backs away slowly, "I'll leave you to it then."

"Wait," you reach and grab his arm as he began walking away, "stay.."

He pauses in his tracks. Your hand clung tightly to his clothes, and you finally asked, "Where have you been..?"

He turns himself around to face you, his movement delayed. You lowered your head,

"I've missed you.." you exhaled, closing your eyes to take in a deep breath. You lift your gaze to meet his. A rush of emotions coming back to you, one that you've missed. The way he looked at you with such warmth and with such love, it remained the same, even after all this time. He wants to tell you that he missed you too, but there's a voice in his head screaming at him to leave, before someone finds out that he's with you. He stops breathing for a second, trying to contain himself but he can't.

He grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you in desperately. He's missed you so much and all this time apart had him shaking slightly. He was scared and so happy to finally see you. All the pent up frustration, emotions he's piled up these past couple of months, he almost collapsed right then and there. Your arms snake their way to his waist, embracing him tightly, afraid he might go away again.

None of you say a word for a couple of minutes, until Draco's left arm burns and he hisses pushing you away. He holds it to try to soothe the pain, worried you stepped towards him,

"Dra-Draco? What's wrong?" You asked as you see a red glow underneath his robe. You grab his arm and reveal the bare skin. He doesn't have time to push you away as the pain continues, but it begins to subside once he feels your touch, and when he's back to his senses it is already too late.

You gasp, you've always denied it, but deep down you knew and seeing it with your own two eyes felt more real. You couldn't run away any longer from this truth that you tried so hard to convince yourself from. Your eyes began to water and before you knew it, you began to cry.

"Are you afraid?" He murmurs, "I didn't want you to know..."

"Since when?" Your fingers shaking as you slightly grazed over the mark.

"A while ago..." He bites his lip, trying to hold himself back from breaking apart. He's terrified, now that you know. His head is telling him to run- to leave this tower immediately but like that night his feet are planted in place. He tries to think of an idea- he shuts his eyes as he clenches his fist, nails digging into the skin, "Now you can understand why we can't be together, Y/N."

He hates talking to you this way, but he can't bring himself to leave this place- you. To him, the best next thing to do is to get you to leave, just like that night. He mentally scolds himself for letting his emotions get the best of him- acting so recklessly as he did earlier.

You couldn't stop the tears that spilled. Yes, you were scared but not of him, for him.

Draco keeps his head low, overthinking the situation- what's to happen. He tries to navigate through the list of horrible things that could happen to you because of his mistake.

"I'm so sorry I was selfish and asked you for more when- when you-" You choked on your tears and your sentences become incoherent, "I didn't know...Why didn't you tell me? I-"

Shocked, he looks up, his heart breaking at the sight of you, why were you sorry? Why were you apologizing? He should be the one to apologize, not you.

His hand reaches out to wipe your tears away, "I didn't want you to know," he repeated, "I didn't want to risk putting you in danger.."

You shake your head, "What about you?"

"I've been recognized as one of them, Y/N" His tone was soft, but there was so much sorrow to it, "It's only dangerous if I let my guard down."

"You'll only be safe for now, it's not guaranteed, Draco."

There's a moment of silence, to process everything.

"Has he done anything to you?"

Draco caresses his fingertips on your cheek, "No, I'm okay." Another pause, he looks at you and lightly traces your face with delicacy, "I'm sorry, Y/N."

"It's okay-"

"No, let me finish, love." He presses his forehead against you, eyes closed as your skin touch. He still holds your face, trying to feel your presence as much as he could, trying to savor every second that passes. You close your eyes, trying to focus you're entire mind and body to just him. Though it was such a simple act of touch, it felt so intimate.

"I love you." He whispers, "I love you so much, Y/N."

"And I love you, Draco Malfoy." You cry again, not because of sadness, but because of how much comfort those words gave you. How those three words lifted such a burden in your chest that you felt so light in his arms again.

And just as it was comforting to you, it was to him. However, he knew that he still does not want to risk losing you and getting caught up in the middle of this soon to be war.

"We can't be together...No matter how much I love you, and you love me, I don't want to risk your life, Y/N."

"I know, I understand-" He squeezes your cheeks,

"Let me finish, love." And you fall silent, waiting. "I want to be selfish and ask if- you can.." He doesn't ask, but he didn't need to because you already knew.

"I can wait." You smile, "I can wait Draco, but...what's gonna happen to us when we see each other out there...on the other side of war?"

Draco sighs, "I don't know, but whatever happens, I'm not gonna let you get hurt by them.."

You shudder at the thought of all the possibilities that could happen in battle, but it quickly fades away as you remember that he was in your arms right now, and that's all that matters.

You don't know what's gonna happen, neither of you do, but whatever happens you'll wait for him. Like you always have, you'll wait until both of you can be together, when the circumstances are right. You'll wait with a different perspective in mind- because now you know that he loves you just as much as you love him. You'll wait for him with a worried heart, longing everyday for his touch. You can wait for him because you know that on the other side of it all, he's there, waiting for you.

[libraryofhogwarts]

A Deal Made on Impulse

Ginny Weasley x Pansy Parkinson

Ginny is in a sticky situation and Pansy seems to be the only way out. But why would she agree?

Chapter 1: I'll Owe You One

Series masterlist

The walk to Three Broomsticks was awful. Ginny could usually handle the cold. After years of playing on the Quidditch team, she thought she would have built immunity to it with the early morning practices, the grass still covered in frost, or the games played in lightning storms.

But no. It’s mid-winter, meaning the hills surrounding Hogwarts and Hogsmeade are covered in at least a foot of snow and the black lake is half frozen over. Trudging through the snow, boots crunching on the icy snow was not a pleasurable experience.

At least the trip was worth the reward. Ginny could not wait to step inside the pub, warmed by the roaring fire. She would order a butterbeer, hopefully the alcohol could help to heat her insides as well.

She finally crests the hill, setting off to cross the old stone bridge towards the cozy-looking candlelight in the windows of the restaurant.

The old brass door handle stings the skin of Ginny’s palm as she clutches it to open the door from the frost along its metal curve. She hisses and rubs her hands together.

Walking into the room roaring with chatter from other patrons, she makes a mental note to not forget her mittens on her next walk. If she’s honest with herself, however, it’ll probably slip her mind. For some reason, mittens are always the one thing she forgets.

Across a crowd of what looks to be third years, way too young to be in the pub, she sees her brothers, Harry, Hermione, Draco, Neville, and Theo huddled on the couch and surrounding armchairs propped in front of the massive sandstone fireplace.

She weaves her way through a bumbling group of teens, probably drunk off Butterbeer, past two fourth years awkwardly flirting. She inwardly cringes at the boy pretending to yawn, wrapping his arm around the girl. It’s the oldest trick in the book, does he think that’ll actually work?

The girl tips her chin down, hiding her small smile, and blushes when his hand makes contact with her shoulder. I guess so Ginny thinks. She shakes her head, leaving the awkwardness behind her to continue on her path.

Once she reaches the group she’s met with Hello’s and Gin you’re finally here’s, spoken over the top of one another. She addresses them all with a general “Hello, hello,” in greeting before shoving George to the side and plopping down on the end of the couch.

“Hey! What was that for?” George wines.

“I wanted to sit. You were in the way Georgie,” she says the last bit with a sickly sweet tone in her voice.

“You’re lucky I love you,”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too Georgie,” she stretches her legs and arms out in front of her towards the fire, trying to warm the limbs. The cold from outside still lingered in her bones.

The conversation between her friends resumes. Apparently, Harry was still hopelessly crushing on Cho and needed advice from Ron on what he should do about it. Neville, sitting in one of the armchairs chatted with the twins about the Quidditch game from two days ago. Ravenclaw lost against Gryffindor and while Neville had a lot of house pride his girlfriend, Luna, was a Ravenclaw so he sided with them, hence the friendly arguing between the three.

Hermione was sitting in Draco’s lap in the other chair; the pair in their own little world. They whispered in each other’s ears, Hermione giggling and blushing every so often at whatever suggestive thing Draco says.

Ginny’s heart aches a tinge at the sight of the couple. She wanted that. Her own person. Someone who understood her completely; could make her blush and laugh. Someone to love.

Ginny stands abruptly from her seat on the couch’s end, stretching her limbs. Hermione casts a worrying glance at her. The girls had become very close over the last couple of years especially. The best of friends truth be told. It’s almost as if Hermione could instinctually tell something was off with Ginny’s mood.

Ginny didn’t know if this warmed her heart or only made it worse. She loved that her friend knew her so well and cared enough to pay attention; Ginny was used to getting overlooked. Growing up in a house of almost all boys, she was just another one of the brothers it seemed.

She loved Quidditch more than the average girl her age, she wanted to know all about her father’s trinkets and tinkering, and more often than not she came in for dinner covered in mud after playing in the yard all day when she was young.

It did unsettle her, however, that her friend was so in tune with her cranky mood. She didn’t want that to be the norm for her personality. She did not want to weigh down her friends with her own issues. It wasn’t their problem to deal with.

Though nowadays it seemed that she was… unsettled more often than not. She was always finding the glass half empty rather than full and she didn’t know what to do; or how to change her mindset.

“Getting a drink,” she said with the brightest tone she could muster for Hermione’s sake. The woman just nodded, turning back to her boyfriend, knowing the redhead did not want to talk about what was on her mind.

Making her way across the room, she saddled up next to the mahogany bar. The bar top was glossy and smooth, the grains of wood stood out against the dark stain. There were brass stools with black cushions sporadically placed under the counter.

There was enough space for her to squeeze in between two stools and wait. She gave a wave, trying to flag down the bartender. He just gave a grunt of acknowledgment before turning back to the glass he was polishing. Grump Ginny thought.

He was an old man, with a scruffy beard and just as white of hair that reached the tips of his ears. In all the years Ginny has been coming here she doesn’t think he’s muttered more than ten words to her; usually choosing to communicate through grunts.

She looked to the shelf containing the alcohol, knowing it would take the bartender a couple of minutes before he begrudgingly made his way to Ginny to take her order.

She scanned the top shelf, nothing looked too enticing. The second shelf had some sort of liquid in a pear-shaped bottle. It glowed blue and had, what seemed to be a shimmer to it. Interesting, I’ll have to try that one of these days.

By the time the bartender made it to her, she was on her second perusal of the selves.

He grunted again by way of asking for her order.

“Just a Butterbeer please.”

He said nothing and grabbed a stout cup with a thick stem and some sort of swirling pattern to the glass. He filled the container almost full from the tap, then he set the glass down on the counter. Before Ginny could grab it however she noticed a figure in the mirror on the back wall behind the liquor.

No. Please no, not right now! It was her ex-boyfriend, Dean. They had dated for a handful of months before Ginny called it quits. He was nice enough if you ignored the fact that he complained about everything Ginny wore, who she talked to, and everything she did. Oh, and he seemed to be allergic to monogamy; always chatting up other women.

When she finally officially broke up he was upset but he left her alone after that, at least until a week later when he started showing up outside her classes, dorm room, at dinner or breakfast, and just in general any place he thought Ginny might be begging for her back.

He’d plead that he would change, that they were great together, that they should not let that connection go, they should give it another shot, blah blah blah.

At first Ginny found herself feeling sorry for the guy. Why? She had no idea, but then she remembered all the trouble he put her through and those emotions quickly faded. She tried to explain that this was best to Dean in the least harsh way possible; trying to keep some semblance of peace, but maybe she needed to be a bit harsher because he was not getting the point.

No matter how many times she’d tell him that it would never work, that they weren’t right for each other he didn’t take the hint. She was getting sick of having to reject the guy at every turn.

Now Dean’s form was moving closer in her direction. She moved to grab her glass and bolt for her friends but the bartender grunted again in disapproval. She looked away from her cup, at him to see that his wand was out. Right the foam. He tapped the stick on the side of the glass as it magically began to fill with a frothy foam on top.

She tapped her foot in impatience, grabbing the glass as soon as he was done and leaving a couple of galleons in its place, not caring that they were worth more than the cost of the beverage.

She turned intent on racing back to her group. If she made it in time Dean would surely leave her alone. Ginny was almost positive that Dean was scared of Draco.

Who could blame him really, Draco’s a scary guy but after seeing the way his eyes soften when Hermione rants about the latest book she’s reading or the way he places a steading hand on her elbow when she stumbles walking back from the library after hours of studying, Ginny can’t find it in her to fear him anymore.

Unfortunately, Dean was too close for her to make it back to the cozy couch. She turned in the other direction, hoping to lead him away from her friends so she could circle back before he noticed what was happening.

She passed the hallway that leads to the bathrooms when she heard him call her name. Ugh, the desperate way he said it. Like she was the one causing the issues and if she just heard him out they could fix this.

Well, they couldn’t. There was nothing to fix, not before and definitely not now. She was beyond sick and tired of having to delicately explain this concept to him. He just could not take no for an answer, could he?

She had to get this to stop. She could not take any more of the relentless pursuit. She felt like she might lose her mind if she had to endure one more moment of it. That’s when she saw her.

Pansy Parkinson.

She was in the same year as Ron and Harry but the Slytherin and her had shared quite a few classes. Even sat next to each other in one.

Pansy was walking towards her, likely on her way to the restroom from the looks of her route. Ginny sidestepped just in time to block the woman’s path. Pansy stopped abruptly at the unexpected intrusion. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion at Ginny’s obvious interruption of her path.

“What can I do for you, Weasley?” she had a teasing tone in her voice

“Kiss me?” her question was high-pitched, in an effort to soften the unexpected question.

“What?” her brows shot up her forehead.

“Please, I’ll owe you one. A huge one.” Her eyes pleaded, turning to the side in a way of gesturing to her ex, now standing behind her at a distance. Maybe he feared all Slytherin’s not just Draco? That could be useful information.

Pansy seemed to ponder the idea for all of two seconds, looking back towards Dean and then focusing her attention back on Ginny, “Okay,” she surprised Ginny by agreeing.

Just like that Pansy’s lips were on her own. She really didn’t think this far into her master plan, in the moment, stupid, impulsive plan. What should she do, and how should she react? She’d never kissed a girl before. She’d thought about it sure, but never done it.

Pansy answered her questions by sliding her cold fingertips across her temple and into her hair, the other hand coming to her waist and pulling her in. Their hips met in a crash just as Pansy’s tongue brushed lightly across her bottom lip asking for entry.

Ginny immediately granted her access, opening her lips, their tongues meeting and swirling. She whimpered, her free hand coming to the curve of Pansy’s waist and melting into the woman.

At Ginny’s touch, Pansy pulled back just slightly, her eyes closed, their foreheads resting together. The breaths intermingled, tangling just as their tongues had moments ago.

The woman pulled back, the cold air filling the now gaping space between them. Ginny wanted to whimper at the cold; the loss of touch but she held back. She looked up at Pansy, a slight pink, almost invisible, now coating her cheeks and the tip of her nose. It’s as if she’d been walking out in the cool air for a few minutes.

“You own me, Weasley,” Pansy started back for the hallway, “Don’t you forget it.” She threw that last bit over her shoulder.

Ginny looked over her shoulder to where Dean had been minutes ago only to find the space empty, the man nowhere in sight. She turned walking back to her friends, biting down in a hopeless effort to hide her smirk.

Except this smirk had nothing to do with the fact that she had avoided a confrontation with her ex and everything to do with the sassy woman she now owed a favor to.

She was so fucked.

Hello hello! Thank you for reading the first chapter to a fic that is very near and dear to my little sapphic heart. Now I've already spewed the nitty gritty on my AO3 so if you want some more info go check that out but I am still working on this fic. I am all ears to how you perceived this work: if its amazing pls do tell, if it's trash also lmk that lol. I'm very interested to know your opinion or if you have any ideas/wants on where you would like to see this series go. You can comment or my asks are totally open! Again thanks!!

[https-maxine-stuff]

“The star-crossed lovers”

8.

A/N: A bit of a song-fic vibe to this one, plus suggestive themes

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

I don't know what to do without you

I don't know where to put my hands

Cedric is constantly writing Astrid letters throughout the days, to ensure she knows that he truly loves her even when they aren't in the same classes, it brings her incredible amounts of joy.

I've been trying to lay my head down

But I'm writing this at three AM

Her eyes softer as she cupped his bruised cheek "how hard did you get hit in that practice?"

"..pretty hard." Her lips turned downwards as she looked at him. "I'm sorry,,"

"Don't apologize for getting hurt, wasn't your fault."

"I should've been paying attention,,"

"I was in the crowd,, you weren't going to pay much attention anyways." A smile tugged at his lips as he scoffed.

"I hate you,"

"Mm, I love you too." She kissed his lips.

I don't need the world to see

That I've been the best I can be, but

Astrid turned on her heel noticing older her close by and dragged Cedric the other way. "Oh here we go!" She pulled him into a different hallway, he was pressed against the wall and her chest against his.

"A bit,, farfetched aye?" He winked. She rolled her eyes but smiled.

"Not too farfetched,"

"Mmm."

"Mhm."

I don't think I could stand to be

Cedric is hers, and no one was gonna stop that even threats from an older bitter her,, or something like that.

Where you don't see me

"Why him!? Why him huh??" Astrid's voice was hurt and in pain.

The older woman looked down "because the wizarding world depends on it."

"Fuck the wizarding world! I want Cedric! It can go to hell for all I care!"

"So the muggle-borns and half-bloods can die because of OUR selfishness? No wait just bloody yours!" She hissed.

The younger girl looked down with tears in her eyes "I,,"

"Exactly be quiet." She looked away from her.

On sunny days I go out walking

I end up on a tree-lined street

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Cedric's voice was soft, the first task was coming up soon.

"Like what?"

"Like you are going to rip my clothes off."

"Because I am, duh." She rolled her eyes getting closer to him as a dumb smile grew on his lips.

I look up at the gaps of sunlight

I miss you more than anything

"Cedric," Astrid's voice held a certain urgency to it, "I need to talk to you."

"What is it?" Cedric asked, looking at her intently.

"It's about the tournament," Astrid took a deep breath. "I know you're going to do your best, but I just wanted to tell you that no matter what happens, I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, Astrid," Cedric looked at her, a big smile on his face. "That means a lot to me."

"I just wish I could be there with you," Astrid eyes filling with tears. "It's not fair that you have to go through this alone."

"Hey," Cedric frowned, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "I'm not alone. I've got you, and I know you'll be rooting for me."

"Of course I will," Astrid began wiping away her tears. "You're going to do great, Cedric. I just know it." His hands cupped her face.

"I won't die on you." Oh if only he knew.

"Why'd they choose dragons?" She whispered.

"No idea,, but you can thank Harry for that tip,"

"Yeah, I'll give him a little smooch as a reward."

"I'd kill him."

"Ooo jealous, Ceddie,, my favorite." She bit her lip.

I don't need the world to see

That I've been the best I can be, but

Cedric's eyes narrowed on her as she was applying burn cream to his arm, she was so beautiful and radiant to him, he made her feel alive.. so alive.

"You're staring again."

"Always, can't I stare at my beautiful girl?"

"Not when you are toasty."

"Toasty??"

"Like toast, you are crispy."

"Now I want crips."

"Those can wait." He frowned.

I don't think I could stand to be

Where you don't see me

He stared at the egg. Debating to dunk it in the water, would it be worth it,, like at all? He just wanted to have a nice soak, in the bath but couldn't leave the egg alone so.. he thought about it. "Ah what the hell could go wrong."

He would rather die than deal with that yodeling from the egg. Holding the egg in hand he slipped underneath the water where he opened it, preparing his ears for the screams of it,, but no.. it was singing a wonderful tune.

He listened and went above the water gasping. "Holy shit!"

And autumn comes when you're not yet done

With the summer passing by, but

"Come on! Come on!" She was being dragged down the corridor, sounds of laughter filled the hall.

"What are we even running for!?"

"I've got to talk to Harry about the next task!"

"Task?" They came to a slow halt, he turned to her with furrowed brows.

"You know..the second task? The- the golden egg?"

"...what golden egg?" Her memory seemed fuzzy and cold.

"Astrid- are you alright?" She blinked a few times, the feeling of deja vú hitting her like a rock.

"Holy shit it's the bloody vision!"

"The vision? SO IT WAS RIGHT??"

"Yes!"

I don't think I could stand to be

Where you don't see me

She watched as he spoke to Harry, the younger boys face so confused as Cedric was just giving him a riddle, he came back to Astrid and kissed her hand. "M'lady."

"Cedric." He smiled.

[ibbythebee]

hi!! can you write a seamus x reader one shot where he sees reader getting closer to ginny and gets all pouty cause he never thought he'd be jealous of someone younger than him but eventually he gets his head out of his ass (maybe ginny herself does it for him cause she's tired of them pining or whatever) and confesses to reader

totally okay if you dont feel like it btw cause i know you dont usually write for seamus

a/n: Yabsolutely! Thank you so much for your request, anon. I'm up to write for any of the Harry Potter bois. They all deserve some love. Can I also just say, that I love Seamus' rings.

Green-Eyed

gif credit: @X_phantomhorseman_X on wattpad

pairing: Seamus Finnigan x Reader | best friends to lovers

summary: Seamus shouldn't be jealous of Ginny spending more time with you. You're just a friend to him, nothing more... right?

genre: a good dose of fluffy angst

warnings: jealous Seamus, slightly possessive, pining, 'spud' nickname, Ginny and Seamus banter, little bit o' good old kisses

words: 3.8k

masterlist

»»————-　⌁　————-««

There you are again, doubled over at something Ginny’s told you. You’d just gotten back from a Quidditch game, and to Gryffindor’s delight, they’d won the game.

It was intense, exhilarating, thrilling. Gryffindor won for Godric's sake, so why—

“—do you look so down?” Neville inquires, settling himself on the couch next to the said teen.

The Irish boy doesn’t do much but sigh and shrug, leaning a cheek on his fist and staring into the fire pit.

"It's the O.W.Ls coming up, isn't it? Yeah." The dark-brown haired boy nods as if he's just said something genius. "I can't say I'm any good at Transfiguration, but I'll definitely help you with Herbology."

Seamus still doesn't react, intently listening in to what might be so funny for Ginny to say to make you laugh so much. Just the sound of you giggling across the common room is causing his heart to skip. He should be the one making the jokes. He should be the one to see how beautifully you grin, how the bottoms of your eyes water once your laughter turns into wheezes of breath.

Dean appears into the Irish boy's vision, and he has to force himself to look up at his tall friend.

"Damn. Why the long face Seamus?" Dean asks with a soft frown.

The said boy only huffs in response, and shakes his head to return his focus to the dancing flames.

"Oh I know what it is..." Dean nods as if he's just said something genius and situates himself between his friends. "It's the O.W.Ls isn't it?"

"That's what I said!" Neville chirps. "Come on Seamus I'm sure you'll be fine. For now, let's just celebrate our Quidditch win."

"Yeah mate, you don't have to look so—" Dean goes to tap his friends shoulder and is instead rewarded with a glare.

"I'm fine, alright?! Nothin's going on. Not the stupid O.W.Ls or class or anythin'. It's nothin'."

The voice he hears next has his stomach in a twist and the tips of his ears turning red.

"What's nothing?" You come out of nowhere, face just inches away from his. You giggle when you see Seamus flinch at your sudden appearance.

He wants so badly to steal you away. Like you used to do when you were in your early teen years. You both loved to just run together, to be outside and be loud. He so badly wants to just take your hand and run off somewhere, away from everyone, away from Ginny.

He'd initially been able to tolerate the youngest Weasley hanging out with you when you had began to talk to each other more often in your third year. He was ecstatic to see that you were getting along with more girls in Gryffindor, but then it got to the point where he began to feel neglected. Where he felt he was second best. Where, when he'd invite you to hang out, you'd tell him that Ginny had already asked you.

"Nothin's nothin'," he answers, standing up with another huff. He runs a hand through his hair and when his eyes dart to yours, your smile is gone and your eyes have softened.

"Is... everything alright?" you ask. Gosh, why is it that anything you say or do now gets his stomach feeling funny?

"I... I said I'm fine," he glances around at his friends, all of them look concerned. Even Ginny who's standing beside you has her brows pulled together.

He looks to you last, eyes lingering on yours for longer than a few seconds. And you look so worried, and he hates it when you're sad. But then he sees Ginny's arm thread through yours and so he combs his hair with his fingers again, voice dropping in volume. "I think I'm just gonna call it a day. Night guys."

Dean, Neville and Ginny chorus in 'goodnights'. You, on the other hand, freeze in place until he begins to walk in the direction of the stairs to the dorms.

You catch the sleeve of his robe and thankfully he doesn't pull away immediately, despite how agitated he looked just seconds before.

"Let's talk about it tomorrow okay? Just us two." You utter. And when he doesn't say anything, you continue gently. "Sleep well, stinky."

With pursed lips, he smiles. "You too, spud."

You watch him walk away, his robe slipping out of your fingers. You stay there staring, until the last bit of his clothes disappears behind the wall of the stairs.

"What was that all about?" Dean asks beside you. "I don't think he's ever been this stressed for a test."

"I don't think that's the reason," Ginny squeezes your arm. She gives you a knowing sort of look, only you have no idea what she's trying to insinuate through her eyes. "Come on, you said you'll chat to him tomorrow, I think it's best we all get to bed. I'm sure he's fine."

"You don't think I said something to him? Have I said anything to him to make him so mad?" You murmur to her. "Oh no, what have I done Ginny?"

"Hey, hey, hey. Shut your mouth right now," her brows pull together when you pout. "You know he's not gonna stay mad at you for long. He never does. You know that."

"But, what if I actually did do something wrong and he... and I haven't even said sorry and he..." An ocean of worst case scenarios flood your brain and you're not sure if you want to talk to him tomorrow, fearing that what he might say will break your heart. Fearing that you'll lose him forever.

Ginny rolls her eyes gently, and pulls on your arm to lead you to the dorms, away from the ears of your nosey classmates and peers. "He doesn't hate you. And he won't hate you. Ever. I just know it, so please stop worrying. Please stop thinking so much... hey, I can see you thinking. Stop."

She taps your head, the place between your eyebrows and it's as if she's just pressed a restart button.

You spring back into action, back straight, eyes less droopy, no more pout.

"There." Ginny says, letting go of your arm as she turns to her dorm room.

You send her a weak smile, and she returns with her own, a more motherly sort of grin.

"It'll be okay, you and him are gonna be just fine tomorrow. Plus, he still called you 'spud'."

"You're... you're right!"

"I'm always right," she makes a show of blowing you a kiss and then opens the door, closing it in front of her until you can only see her face between the wall and the edge of the door. "Goodnight!"

You catch her 'kiss' and hold it to your heart with a theatrical sigh. "Goodnight, genius. Enjoy dreaming about Harry."

»»————-　⌁　————-««

That night Seamus had only one thing on his mind. Dean pressed on to try and get an answer out of the Irish boy as to why he's been acting so strange lately. When there was no notable answer, the taller boy gave up and rolled over to sleep. Seamus, would eventually surrender to his pillow, however then wake up an hour or so later. Such a pattern presented itself that night as he thought meticulously about what sort of answer he'd give you tomorrow, he thought about whether he should lie or tell the truth.

He could tell you the truth, the whole truth; then there's the risk that you won't accept him. That you'll grow even further away from him. That all these years of being inseparable, all these years of being comfortable with one another could fall down the drain in a few words.

And then he could lie. But you don't deserve to be lied to. He hates lying, especially to you.

Seamus is simply in too deep. He thought that this pathetic jealousy over Ginny, a girl a year younger than him, would simmer down over time. It's only grown since. And he hates the way he hates how well you and her get along. He hates how much he envies the smiles you give her, the laughs, the time with her even.

He hates it all because Ginny doesn't deserve any of it. He hates it all because he sees how genuinely happy and excited you are to see her everyday, and you don't deserve to lose a beautiful friend like her, just because he's absolutely fallen head over heels for you.

He has to tell you the truth. Even if you'll never talk to him again, even if his heart breaks into a million pieces, he's going to tell you everything.

Someone's shakes him awake and he groans, rubbing at his eyes and yawning hard. When Seamus' vision finally adjusts to the new morning light, he finds Neville in front of him already in his uniform, smiling down at him.

"Morning, Seamus."

"Hey Neville."

It's a routine. Neville being the morning-person of the friend group, it was decided since their second year that he would be the other boys' alarm clock, so that they could go to breakfast together. If only he'd be able to wake you too, so you could tag along.

As Neville wakes the rest of the group, Seamus is quick to get himself ready for the day. Despite his restless night, his eyes don't look very sullen, he actually looks alright. So he smiles at the mirror, and slips on his rings, those ones that you love. Ever since you complimented them in his second year, a day didn't go by where he didn't wear them.

Dean, Neville and Seamus all make it to the Great Hall and situate themselves by Harry, Ron and Hermione. Even Ginny's already there.

Seamus cranes his neck, but he doesn't see you anywhere. Like a magnet his gaze is pulled toward the Weasley girl and she waves her hand, motioning for him to come to her side.

As the rest of his mates tuck in, he carefully makes it to Ginny and sits on the opposite side of the table.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi."

"Is there... somethin' wrong?"

"Yeah." She simply says and lowers her voice as she leans in closer to his direction. "I know what you're so upset about. And there's no shame in admitting it."

"What are you talkin' about?"

To mask the intentions of their conversation, Ginny picks up a hash-brown and starts to chomp on it. "You know what I'm talking about. There's a reason why I didn't wake up Y/N this morning. I wanted to talk with you alone before she gets to."

"Stop bein' so vague, Ginny. Just tell me what's goin' on." He tries hard to keep his voice calm but firm, remembering that she is also your most beloved friend and he shouldn't be so envious over her. "I'll stop walkin' on eggshells if you promise to too."

"Agreed." She swallows the last bit of her hash-brown and turns to him. "You need to tell Y/N that you like her more than a friend."

Taken aback by her bluntness he coughs into a closed fist and fills his goblet with some juice. "Right. Well. Straight to the point. I was gonna tell her anyway."

"You were?"

"After I sort of yelled at everyone last night, I did a lot of thinkin'."

"That never ends well."

He sends her daggers and she grins back. "I was thinkin' that she deserves to know the truth of what's happenin'. I'm tired of... holding it in."

He wasn't going to admit to her that he's completely tired of being envious over her. Besides, she probably already knows that. With that grin on her face, she definitely knows.

"Good then. I'm glad," she says with a nod. "And for the record sorry not sorry for stealing her away from you."

He wants to glare at her again, but instead he chuckles with a shake of his head. "I can understand wantin' to steal her away. She's... she's brilliant."

"Don't tell me that. Tell her that." With a flick of her chin, Seamus' attention is turned to the entrance of the Hall and he sees your form sauntering in.

Maybe it's because he's going to tell you the truth today, maybe it's because the sun rays pooling through the windows are illuminating your figure like an angel who's just come down from heaven, but you look more beautiful than ever. And when you find his eyes and smile, that toothy giddy sort of smile, Seamus almost stumbles out of his seat to stand.

"Mornin' spud," he runs his fingers through his hair.

"Hi stinky. Did you sleep okay? Are you... feeling a little better?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just uh... are you good to talk now or do you want to eat first?"

"Oh, well we can..." You find Ginny waving at you from behind the Irish Boy and then she sends you a thumbs up and a nod. "We can talk now."

"Great, um..." He looks around the room, especially at the Gryffindor table and a few people turn away their gazes when he sees them watching you speak.

Witnessing you both converse so seriously wasn't a regular sight to your peers. You'd instead always be joking around, filling the Hall with noise and trying to stop Seamus from practicing his charms at the table. So, it's no surprise that they're all staring now, eager to dig up new gossip.

"You wanna go somewhere more private?" You murmur, as you step closer to him.

Feeling heat begin to burn on the back of his neck, he tells you 'yes', and without warning takes your hand and sprints out of the room. The last thing he wanted was people seeing him blush.

You yelp at the sudden action, none the less following him, not before glancing at the youngest Weasley, who's looking at you with a smirk.

Seamus takes you through the halls, and soon you realise that you've been here before. You've held his hand and ran in this way together before.

A few students gasp, stepping out when you almost collide. Each time it happens you share a laugh with him, and before you even get to your destination you're completely out of breath, small beads of sweat sticking loose strands of your hair to your forehead.

You're at the flying lesson grounds. Your favourite place when you were younger students, the best place to play tag, complain about the pettiest problems and the best place to just run around until you both can't feel your lungs.

Your feet slow once they touch grass and then to your disappointment Seamus removes his hand from your wrist and falls to the ground in a sigh. His chest moves up and down with each catch of breath.

In no time you've joined him, letting your knees buckle and landing right beside him. Fixing your messy hair, you speak with a breathless voice. "We have to do that more often. I don't know why we stopped."

"Because of Ginny."

Seamus is met with silence. And your eyes. And your pupils are asking him, 'what?' 'Why?' 'How?' 'Why?' 'Why?' 'Why?'

A small bump appears by the edge of his jaw, and then he's sitting up, so you quickly do the same. He looks ashamed; head ducked, corners of his lips turned downward, fingers fiddling with his rings.

Goodness, now that you are looking at him, now that you are actually here and ready to listen to his every word causes his heart to race. Is he really going to go through with this? The possibility that in a few minutes you're never going to want to see him again looms in his mind and when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out.

"Seamus." Firmly, you say. "Is this what you wanted to talk about? Ginny?"

"No." He finally turns to you, and the moment your eyebrow raises the tiniest bit he folds. "And yes. There's... a whole bunch of things I want to say. Ginny is one of 'em."

He expects you to respond, only silence ensues. Your gaze is stern, yet there's a hint of concern as your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth, gently nibbling.

This is it. He sighs a big sigh, and shifts in his seating position till his knee taps against yours. To his relief you don't move away, you're simply completely ready to listen.

"Okay. Firstly... this is the most stupidest thing ever. To admit out loud, you're gonna think I'm an absolute sod, but you deserve to hear it. Basically... gosh. Ever since you and Ginny have been getting closer and closer, I've been spendin' less time with you and..." He clutches onto one ring and squeezes, as if it would squeeze out all his nerves. "And to sum it up, I'm... well I'm jealous. Of her. Takin' you away from me."

Your face is unchanged, still concerned, but still solid and stern. Your eyes move from watching as his hands fiddle in his lap to his face.

"And it kinda, like, pisses me off a little how much she makes you laugh." He turns till you can only see the back of his head, and the gentle dust of pink over the apple of his cheek. "I used to be fine with it. I really did, I was happy that you made such a good friend, especially a girl after hangin' out with just us boys. But then, I just couldn't stay happy. Every time I'd see her... like take your arm or whisper something in your ear or told you a joke that only you could understand I felt... I felt like, y'know, like 'I should be the one doin' that', 'only I can make her laugh that much'. And all that stuff."

He huffs, and manages to move his attention back to his hands, so you can see how much he chews the inside of his cheek, you can see how much he's thinking but how hard it is to let it all out. So, you nudge his knee with yours to continue. To let him know that you're still listening and that he's okay.

"Last night everything came together and I've figured out why I'm so mad with Ginny. You... you can probably guess what it is. But—." With a hand combing through his hair, he takes all the Gryffindor bravery in him to meet your gaze. "I... I really like you, spud."

And all you can feel in the thump thump thump of your heart hammering through your veins.

"Now, I-I-I know that it's out of the blue, it might be weird to hear — I don't know — I don't expect an answer from you. You can hate me. You can never speak to me again, if you want, but I can't keep these feelings from you anymore."

You've never heard him speak so seriously before. So earnestly. So vulnerably. The way his eyes fall on you, you feel like screaming, like kicking your feet. You're relieved to be sitting down, because your legs feel like jelly under his gaze, under his words. Under his spell.

"I like you so much, Y/N. More than a friend."

There's so much you're experiencing internally. And like a cup that's been overfilled, you feel the trace of a line drawing from your eyes own to your chin. The way Seamus' expression softens at your reaction causes you to go overboard and suddenly you tackle him in a hug, burying your face right into his neck, just beneath his jawline. And you sob in between silly giggles as you feel his arms settle around you.

"S-Spud?"

Another round of sob-giggles ensue, as your grip only tightens. "I-I love you, you sod."

It's hard to decipher who's heart is pounding with your chests pressed to tightly together. It's practically all you both can hear other than his and your chuckles of relief.

You finally pull away from him, hands pressing into the grass on each side of his head, your knees straddling his hips.

There's no more words verbally exchanged, as his hands slowly come up to cup your jaw, a calloused thumb tenderly moving across the skin of your cheek bone to wipe a tear. When he sees you grin, he immediately reciprocates.

Those ocean eyes of his look to you with complete adoration. They're apologising to you for taking so long to confess, and they're telling you how much he loves you, with the way his eyelids slightly droop and the corners of his eyes crinkle with his smile. It's now do you realise how long and pretty his lashes are. With the help of his hands by your jaw and neck, you lean down to get a better look. You lean in till your noses touch, and then you twist your head and you're so close to him that your lips collide.

His fingers squeeze into your skin, desperate to feel more of you here. At first you're both hesitant, slow with just light touches, getting comfortable with each other's movements. Then to test boundaries, your mouths open a little wider, and he presses against you harder. So much so, you both forget how to breath.

"You taste like orange juice," you whisper.

The rumble of his chuckle reverberates against your body. "And you're just beautiful. I-I can't believe it."

"I know. How is this happening right now?"

"I suppose Ginny is the one to thank. Though I hate to admit."

You laugh, as you help each other to sit up before anyone happens to see you in your compromising position. You take his hand and begin to stand up, pulling him to your side. "Then guess what we're gonna do now?"

"Um... what?" He doesn't like the look of your smirk.

"We're gonna go back to the Hall and you're gonna tell Ginny thank you. And sorry."

"Oh, no, no, no."

You're already dragging him.

"No, no. I've used up all my bravery today, I can't face her now— she's just gonna rub it in!"

"Do you want to kiss me again?"

"Absolutely."

"Then you have to do what I say."

Good Godric, you're the only one he'll listen to, the only one he'll let to boss him around. The only one that can make him melt. Allowing you to pull him back through the grounds of the school, he feels a new sense of heat rise to his chest and neck. You're no longer friends. But you are his. And he is yours.

It's all thanks to a girl with red-hair, and for him being green-eyed.