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obsessedwithceleste · 7 months ago

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Daisy Chains and Kept Promises

George Weasley x reader

Based on this request🫶🏽

Summary: George Weasley was never one to break a promise. Especially not one sealed by a daisy chain ring.

word count: 3.2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

It was the first sunny afternoon in what seemed like forever, but in reality had only been a few days, and the residents of the burrow were eager to escape onto the vibrant, green lawn.

“Fred, George you stay out of trouble now!” Molly shouted from the kitchen as you run out the door with the twins.

“Come on now, it’s our last summer before they ship us off to Hogwarts! We gotta make the most of it!” Fred replies, sprinting out to the shed where the Weasleys stored all their brooms.

“Hurry up Georgie, or I’m taking the good broom!” You tease as you race past the other boy, snatching the best broom from the rack before he has the chance to protest.

“Aw c’mon! Why’s she always get the good one?” Ron complains as he catches up with you all.

“Oh shut it Ronald,” George retorts, not bothering to give his youngest brother a second glance.

The four of you spend the afternoon zooming across the field, a beat up quaffle tossed between you in carefree bliss as the sun shines down on you and Ginny watches from the ground below.

Eventually you all tire and you find yourself lying in the shade of the old oak tree that loomed over the garden. Thankfully the rain had scared off the gnomes that had a habit of sneaking into the garden for a tasty treat.

“Show me how to make those daisy crowns? Like the muggles?” Ginny asks, bringing over fists full of the little white flowers.

“Not now Ginny,” Fred sighs, rolling his eyes at the young girl.

“No, no, we can do it now,” you argue, patting the ground next to you, gesturing for the younger girl to sit beside you.

“Yeah, let her stay,” George agrees, smiling fondly at you.

Fred snorts at his brother, eyes rolling once more.

“You always side with her, you’re supposed to be my twin! How are you two going to survive without each other?” Fred retorts, leaning back against the tree.

“It’ll only be a year, then y/n can join us in the fun,” George replies happily.

“Oh at this point you might as well just marry her,” Fred responds with a huff.

You feel your cheeks begin to grow red and you turn to focus all your attention on the young girl beside you, showing her how to intricately wrap the stems together to form a chain of daisies.

You’d known the twins for as long as you could remember. You’d practically grown up with them. Your father Remus did the best he could raising you on his own, he really did, but it was hard. Especially on full moons. The Weasleys always took you in on those nights, often resulting in you staying for days while Remus recovered.

George had had a soft spot for you since the beginning, always being the slightly softer twin while Fred was more severe and brash. You could remember a particularly bad night when it had been storming, the loud thunder making you shake with fear. George had stayed up with you all night, making sure the storm didn’t get you. You had been seven at the time.

It had started back then you supposed, your little crush. It had confused you at first as you had thought of all the boys as your brothers, but now, at the ripe old age of ten, you could tell that Georgie was different from the other Weasley boys.

“There!” George announces excitedly, shaking you from your thoughts as he brandishes a single daisy up into the air, its stem tied rather roughly in a small circle.

Without warning, he grasps onto your hand, sliding the makeshift ring onto your finger, looking rather pleased with himself.

“There. You’re my wife now,” he says proudly as you stare at the little flower adorning your finger.

“You didn’t do it right! You have to ask her to be your wife. Everyone knows that!” Ginny exclaims, watching the two of you with a dopey little grin on her face.

“Oh. Right. Y/n, will you be my wife?” Georgie asks, batting his eyes dramatically at you and sticking out his bottom lip.

“Yes I will,” you reply with a laugh, admiring the pretty daisy that now sat on your finger.

“You two are so gross,” Fred says, making a face.

“Oh, oh! Do the promises! The ones where you say I do!” Ginny urges excitedly, clapping her hands.

“Alright. Do you promise to always laugh at my jokes, always be there for me when I need you, and always take my side when we argue with Fred?” George asks.

Fred begins to make dramatic gagging sounds.

“I do.” You reply with a giggle as Fred just glares at you. “And do you promise to always make me smile, always protect me, and always make me hot chocolate when I can’t sleep?”

“I do.”

It was dark. The whole house was dark really. All the time. Dimly lit and constantly smelling like mold and rotting wood. And the furniture seemed to be permanently damp, the coldness settling into your bones.

You hated it here at Grimmauld Place. The constant shrieking of decrepit, old portraits, the eerie feeling of constantly being watched. The only positive attribute about living in this wretched place was the fact that Remus had never been happier.

It had taken months to do it, but after Harry had been able to help Sirius escape the dementors, Dumbledore had inconspicuously been able to move Sirius into Grimmauld place where you had been staying ever since.

It had been strange at first, no doubt. You had only just met the man, but he grew on you quickly. Like a fungus. You loved seeing how comfortable he made Remus who visibly softened whenever the other man was near. And you hadn’t seen Remus smile as wide or as often, well ever. You could tell that the two of them were just meant to be side by side, and honestly, that was enough for you. Especially in dark times like these.

“Lighten up love, we have a surprise for you before dinner,” Remus announces, entering the drawing room where you sat wrapped in a pile of blankets, a book in hand as you tried to ignore the screeching bag lady in entry way portrait.

“Is it another one of those horrendous sweaters that Sirius keeps digging up from somewhere?” You ask, nose scrunching at the thought of another one of the putrid smelling things being presented to you. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you detested the nasty things, so you had been giving them to Kreacher to dispose of rapidly. “I know I keep telling him that they’re lovely, but how many of the things does he think I need?”

Remus just laughs, shaking his head. “I’ve told him to move onto something else, but he’s determined to fill your wardrobe I think. But no. It’s not another sweater. For now at least. No, I do believe you’ll quite enjoy this little surprise.” He tells you before leaving you to your book and your thoughts.

Dinner time couldn't come fast enough as you eagerly eyed the clock every fifteen minutes, only to be disappointed by how little time had gone by.

About thirty minutes before the three of you usually ate dinner, you began hearing a chorus of voices coming from the entry way. And not the familiar voices of the Black family portraits.

"Well where is she then?" a loud voice asks.

Hearing the voice, you immediately perk up, not quite believing you'd heard correctly. This place might be driving you mad.

"Oh bloody hell mate, don't seem too eager now," comes the sarcastic response.

You'd know those voices anywhere. Practically throwing yourself from the couch, you eagerly scramble to the door and down the staircase to be greeted by the whole Weasley family grinning up at you.

"Look Georgie, there's your wife, don't get your knickers in a twist now," Fred scoffs.

You fly into George's arms, sighing contentedly as his arms wrap securely around you.

"Well hello to you too," you hear him laugh as he gives you another squeeze before releasing you.

You hadn't seen him, or the other Weasley's for that matter, in what felt like ages. He and Fred had grown their hair out, and you didn't quite remember them being so tall last you saw them. His smile never changed though.

Bashfully, you greet the rest of the Weasley bunch, even Fred giving you a quick hug, before rubbing the top of your head affectionately and effectively tossling up your hair. You stick your tongue out at the boy in response, batting his hand away.

"I missed you all, so much! I've been going absolutely bonkers being here alone for so long," you tell them.

"Well not to worry love, we'll be here all summer. Hermione too, though she's not coming for another few weeks." George tells you.

Feeling eyes on you as you laugh with the boys, turning to see both Sirius and Remus gazing at you intently, eyes flickering between you and George.

Sirius silently points at you, then George before drawing a line across his neck with his finger before giving you a wink. You feel heat creeping into your cheeks as you turn back to the boys.

"What are you all doing here?" you ask eventually as the adults begin to file into the kitchen.

"Came to be used as house elves of course," Fred replies, earning him a nudge from George.

"Mum said that Sirius volunteered the house to be headquarters for the Order," Ron butts in.

"Yeah, then mum volunteered us to help clean the place up," Ginny adds.

You make a face at that.

"We have a lot of work to do then, this place is disgusting," you tell them, leading them up the stairs to the room you'd been staying in. On your way up the stairs, George's hand never leaves yours, fingers intertwined as you guide him up the dusty staircase.

"Long as there aren't any spiders," Ron replies, eyeing the spiraling stairs with suspicion.

You just look back at the boy with concern, pity overtaking your face as his own face turns pale.

For once Grimmauld place was silent. A rare luxury you'd found, especially since the Weasley's had moved in. Not that you minded, the red headed family made the grim, old place feel alive and vibrant. Something you thought the it needed desperately. But you liked the quiet too.

It had been a strange couple of weeks as everyone, the adults especially, seemed to be on high alert. And who could blame them? Hermione had just moved in, sharing a room with you and Ginny. You could hear their breathing now as you stared up at the dark ceiling above.

After the Weasley's arrival, you had all spent countless hours decluttering Grimmauld place. Sweeping, dusting, banishing the more mouthy portraits to the attic. It was hard work, but you had loved every second of it with George making you laugh until you keeled over, tears streaming down your face. His presence just made everything better. You thought so at least.

In the darkened room, your mind drifts to the conversation you had heard between the adults just hours ago. It definitely wasn't a conversation you had been meant to overhear, but Georgie had given you a pair of extendable ears that he and Fred had developed, and you just couldn't help yourself.

"Oh really Sirius, they've all practically grown up together, George would never do anything to hurt her," Molly had said.

At the mention of George's name, you just had to find out what they were talking about.

"We never said he was going to do anything malicious, we just don't want to see her get hurt," Remus replied with a heavy sigh.

Her?

"They're practically adults, you can't protect her forever. So what if they fancy each other? They're not children!" Molly retorts.

"Oh that's rich coming from you. Just the other day you were going on about young witches and wizards rushing into marriage during the first war. And how many times have you told the twins that they're forbidden from joining the Order hmm? They're adults, Molly, you can't protect them forever," Sirius responds.

"Oh but at least I've done all I can to protect them up to this point. What have you done for y/n? Nothing. Because you've been locked up!" Molly spits. You can hear the fury in her voice.

Your fists ball up in rage at her comments. None of it was Sirius's fault. He didn't do anything wrong. How dare she?

"That's enough!" you hear Remus cut in, a sharpness in his voice that you hadn't heard before. "We weren't coming to attack George, or the way you raised any of the children. We were simply raising our concerns, as any good parents would. Now that we've made our point, if you don't wish to interfere, fine. We won't either."

After that the only thing you had heard was the shuffling of feet as they abandoned the dining room. They had most definitely been talking about you. No doubt about it. You hadn't realized they were concerned about you. They never said anything. And it was only Georgie. The two of you had been married for six years now. In all the ways that mattered to you at least. He would never hurt you. In fact, he'd made it a promise.

Mind racing and unable to sleep, you slip out of bed, careful not to make a sound as you slowly creep to the drawing room that you so often took refuge in. To your surprise however, a dim light was already flickering inside when you approached, and a familiar head of red hair sat facing away from you on the sofa.

"Georgie?" You whisper cautiously, not wanting to spook him.

His head turns in surprise, but his face lights up when he sees you.

"What are you doing this up this late, love?" he asks.

"I could ask you the same."

"Fair enough. Just a lot on my mind I suppose."

"Me too," you reply.

A silence falls between the two of you as you stand, watching mesmerized as the light flickers on and off of the boy's handsome face.

"Want me to make you a hot chocolate?" George asks finally.

A smile grows on your face and you instantly perk up at the mention of your favorite treat. George always knew how to put you to sleep, and he always made the best hot chocolate. Nodding enthusiastically, the two of you make your way down to the kitchen where George begins gathering supplies.

One thing you'd always admired about him was that he never minded doing things the muggle way. While Fred was always quick to magic his way through things, George was content taking his time.

"Help stir the milk so it doesn't burn?" he asks, gesturing to the pot now on the stove.

You silently take the wooden spoon from his hand, fingers brushing ever so slightly, before focusing on the task at hand. George sets out two mugs on the counter before helping you melt in the chocolate.

It all felt terribly domestic. As if there wasn't a sociopathic murderer on the loose. Like it was just the two of you.

It isn't long before George is pouring the dark liquid into the mugs, sprinkling in a few little marshmallows and a cinnamon stick or two and the both of you are retreating back up to the drawing room.

The first sip sends shivers of satisfaction down your spine as you lean into George who wraps his free arm around you. You pull a blanket over you and revel for a moment in the comfort.

"Care to share what's been on your mind?" George asks, breaking the silence.

"Only if you go first," you reply, not quite sure how to explain that he was really the only thing on your mind these days.

George just sighs. "It's nothing you we haven't told you before," He tells you. "Mum is just fighting for her life to keep Freddie and I out of the Order, but Moody agrees with us. We're of age. There's nothing she can do to stop us."

"Will you be safe?"

"Safe as can be. Mum has made sure they don't give us any real missions. Just patrolling Diagon Alley since that's where we set up shop."

You simply nod your head, letting it fall against the boy's chest as you feel his even breathing and let it overtake you. You'd never admit it out loud, but you were grateful for Molly to an extent. The twins had an abysmal lack of self preservation skills, and you didn't know what you would do if you lost Georgie.

"And what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

You feel your shoulders shrug as you think carefully of what to say.

"I overheard our parents talking today," you mumble, not exactly sure where you were taking this.

"Oh?"

"Dads are worried about us," you tell him, hiding your face in his chest.

"Worried?"

"I dunno. They said something about your mum talking about how a lot of wizards and witches rushed into marriage during the first war, and there was a lot of talk about you being of age and what not. It got intense. There was a lot of yelling."

You feel George's chest rumble with soft laughter at your words.

"Well that's a silly thing to be worried about considering we've been married for years now at this point," he says.

You're not sure if he's joking or not. Maybe the exhaustion was finally getting to you.

"I'm being serious Georgie. I didn't know they were so worried about me. And Sirius sounded so upset," you reply, sitting up to take another long sip of your hot chocolate.

"So am I." he responds, looking you dead in the eye. The usual mischievous gleam is gone this time and you know he's never been more serious about something. "You know I'm not one to break a promise."

The air grows heavy as you feel yourself freeze for a moment at his words before you sink back into his warm embrace.

"I still have it you know. Your ring. Your mum charmed it for me so it wouldn't wilt. She knew all along," you tell him.

"She tends to have a sixth sense when it comes to these kinds of things."

Another silence falls between the two, but this time, the silence brings comfort as you feel your eyes growing heavy. George tries to stifle a yawn, but it escapes anyway. It was later then you had realized.

"I'm glad it's real for you too," you murmur, leaning further into the boy as your eyes flutter close. Something about being in George's arms provided a sense of security you couldn't find anywhere else.

"It was always real. I'd never break a promise to you, love."

bby's first non-slytherin boy fic🫣

don't ask me if I edited this- the answer is no and I don't want to talk abt it💀

tag list: @sol-lupin-black @breeistired

#harrypotter fanfiction #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #fred weasley #harry potter universe #gryffindor #golden era #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagines #gryffindor boys #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius

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hms-harmony-discord · 8 months ago

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"Home is where the heart is." A cozy moment by @arwaisherenow

Arwa is a participating artist in the Harmony Art Raffle for charity 🍉 For a chance to win art of your choice from Arwa + get a guaranteed H/Hr artbook, check out this post.

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on1f150 · 11 months ago

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You Belong To Me || Hermione x f!reader

prompt: you get turned on by a game of spin the bottle with you friend group and Hermione so you show her who she belonged to

“Okay, who’s next?” Dean rubbed his hands together as he looked around the circle.

Ginny, Hermione, You, Harry, Ron, Dean, and Seamus all sat in a circle with an empty beer bottle in the middle. Harry had come up with the idea of playing spin the bottle out of pure boredom and here you all were.

The game was going well with Harry and Ginny having a small make out session and Dean and Seamus practically on top of each other before you had to physically pull them apart. The only thing that was pissing you off was your girlfriend and how she turned you on. You bet it was on purpose. She was biting her lip and giving you seductive glances while making you place your hand on her thigh but not letting you go any further.

Neither you or her had a turn yet and so Hermione raised her hand.

“I’ll go.” Hermione smiled and looked at you before going to spin the bottle. You watched as it spun, the bottle make three full revolutions until it turned and pointed to the boy across from you. Ronald Weasley. You internally groaned when you knew how much Ron liked your girlfriend. He was practically head over heels for her and was furious when he found out you two were dating.

You saw Ron smirk at you as Hermione made her way over to him. She was so unnecessarily slutty about all of this. As she made her way over to Ron, you cringed as you saw an obvious growing boner from his pants. Hermione sat on his lap, cupped his cheek, slowly kissed him. Ron kissed back, putting his hand on her cheek as well. Pretty soon enough they were having a pretty heated but slow make out session.

Dean and Ginny both looked at you, see if you were going to do anything about this. And yes you were. You were positive it was on purpose and Hermione was trying to get you jealous but you didn’t care that it had worked.

You got up on your feet and grabbed Hermione’s wrist. She followed your actions and got up on her feet, bearing a sly smile. Ron looked really upset which made you proud.

“We’re leaving.” You whispered lowly so only Hermione could hear. And without saying goodbye to any of your friends, you held onto Hermione’s wrist as you angrily dragged her to your dorm. You opened the door, pulling Hermione in, and locked it.

“Real cheeky.” You said with a low voice as Hermione sat herself on the bed, ravenously looking at you. She was biting her bottom lip as she felt a pool of wetness surrounding her core just by seeing you so jealous.

“You’re hot when your jealous.” She said as she looked at you with hunger. You rushed over to her as you felt your own wetness emerging and climbed on top of her.

“I’m going to make you wish you hadn’t even laid eyes on that redhead.” You whispered and crashed your lips onto hers. She let out a small moan at this gesture and wrapped her arm around your neck as you viciously attacked her lips, letting your tongue invade and take over.

“Fuck, Y/n,” groaned Hermione as she moved her neck over to allow you suck on it. You knew you immediately found her sweet spot when you heard her let out a loud moan. You sucked, making sure to leave a mark, as your hand traveled down her body.

You swiftly unbuttoned her shirt and exposed her bra. You quickly unclipped it and sucked on her breasts, moving from one to another. You felt like you had superpowers by how much you could make Hermione moan.

“Oh merlin, please Y/n.” She ground her hips on your leg as you slowly licked her nipples, purposely slowing down to tease her. She was craving your touch but you wanted to hear her say it instead.

“Please what?” You smirked as you looked up at Hermione.

“Please touch me. Please, I want you to make me feel good.” She whimpered and pleaded. It’s what you wanted to hear so you obliged, however you weren’t going to let her get exactly what she wanted.

You kissed down her body the inside of her thigh, making her jerk her covered cunt towards your face. You chuckled. “Slow down, sweetheart. Just let me do what I do best.” You pulled down her undergarments and revealed an absolutely soaked pussy. You smirked at the sight and slowly ran a finger down her folds. She was absolutely soaking

You pressed your finger onto her clit and began moving it as fast as you could. Hermione jerked her hips forward and moaned loudly at the sudden contact. You couldn’t hold it in and met her clit with your tongue.

“Oh fuck! Y/n keep going.” Hermione was a mess. Her hair was all over the place as her hips moved up and down from her heavy and fast breathing. The sight was so attractive.

Hermione’s hands shot to your head and pushed it into your cunt as she grinded into to your face. This was a signal that she was close. Very close.

You smirked and quickly pulled your head away. Hermione was in shock.

“What the fuck, Y/n?”

“Not so fast,” You chuckled and met her eyes. “What do you think you were doing during that spin the bottle game, huh? Trying to make me jealous?” You held her thighs and held her down from squirming around.

“No, I wasn’t. I’m sorry.” Hermione was tearing up a bit. She needed to finish so bad.

“Really? It looks a lot like you were trying to seduce me. But with Weasley out of all people? You could do better than that.”

“But you still got jealous didn’t you?” Hermione retorted, smirking.

“Fine. I guess we’re done here.” You began to stand up but Hermione whined.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Yes, I was trying to make you jealous. You’re mine, Y/n. I belong to you.” Hermione was giving you those doe eyes that you fell for every single time.

“Damn right you belong to me.” You dropped down onto your knees and attacked her clit, determined to give her the best finish of her life.

“I’m so close! Oh my god! Y/n I’m cumming!” Hermione’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as she moved her cunt all over your face. Her juices spilled out as she rode her high.

You laid down next to her as she breathed heavily.

“That’s to teach you who you really belong to.” You kissed her on the lips.

#harrypotter #harrypotter x y/n #harry potter fanfic #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #harry potter smut #hermione granger smut

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rainydayathogwarts · 4 months ago

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Me and you - Harry Potter

This came to me fresh out of the shower and it was so cute in my head I couldn't not write it. Summary: You keep on telling Ron to just 'ask her out' so he challenges you to ask your crush since it's oh so easy. Somehow, you both end up with dates. 0.8k+ wc

"It's not that hard Ron, just ask her out!" You complained, sighing in annoyance. Your legs were swung over the side of an armchair in the living room of Sirius's parents' old house, holding your book in one hand, you index finger dipping into the middle of it so that you didn't lose the page you were on. You'd been reading, or rather, trying to read for the past hour, and for half of that time, Ron Weasley, one your best friends, sat right in front of you on the carpet, making shapes on it with his finger while whining about his silly crush on your other best friend.

"You'll never know if you don't ask her!" You added, opening your book once more, hoping he'd get the hint. Sirius and Remus sat on the couch amusedly, matching grins on their faces at your constant bickering. You reminded them of a young Sirius and Lily, with Lily trying to frustratedly get back to her book, telling Sirius to finally ask Remus out from pure annoyance. "Right well if it's so easy to just ask your best friend out, who you've had a crush on for years, why haven't you done it?" Your eyes widened at the comment, eyes pausing on the words on your page and you slowly looked up from the book at Ron's retort, mouth open in shock with your eyebrows raised as if to call him out for his audacity.

"Go ahead, if you're so brave. Ask him out and then I'll take your words seriously." You were painfully aware of the pairs of eyes glued to you as you clamped your mouth shut, eyes quickly glancing towards Remus and Sirius to confirm your suspicions. Their jaws were slack, their silence speaking volumes. You scoffed, putting your book aside and rolling your shoulders back. If there was one thing that would gain your old Professor and his epic boyfriend's approval, it would be this. You shot one last glare at Ron before clearing your throat, watching as his eyes widened in realisation.

"Hey Harry!" You called out cheerfully to the other side of the room where Harry was playing - and losing - a game of chess against George. Hermione and Fred watched their game, adding comments where necessary, but at the sound of your voice, all four of their heads snapped towards you. You had to will yourself not to look at any of their faces other than the boy you were talking to, instead continuing "What do you say we go to Hogsmeade together the weekend we get back at Hogwarts." You swallowed nervously, adding "Me and you." for good measure.

Your eyes trained on Harry, who nodded, smiling shyly as a blush painted his cheeks rosy. "Yeah, yeah of course." He looked back at the board before turning to you once more. "Wait as friends or-" You shook your head, abruptly cutting him off "No. Not-not as friends" You adjusted yourself on the armchair, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as Harry's face darkened even more, and he nodded again, stating "Yeah, I'd like that. Okay." You inhaled deeply, nodding your head with him as you felt your face heat up. "Okay." You grinned timidly, sinking into the chair before looking at your best friend, feeling giddy.

Without taking any time to recover, you raise your eyebrows at Ron, nodding your head in Hermione's direction. Cursing, Ron stood up from the floor, mumbling under his breath before mimicking your movements and calling out "Hermione?" When the girl looked up, her locks falling perfectly around her face with an expectant look on her face, he asked "Do you want to go out? With me?" He gulped loudly, observing as the girl's cheeks flushed darkly, a grin engulfing her features. "Sure, Ron." She replied, giggling at the end of her sentence. "Oh thank god!" He exclaimed, turning away from her immediately to collapse on the empty space on the couch behind him, clamping a hand over his heart.

A loud silence overtook the big room, with the exception of a "It's your turn, Harry." From George. You and Ron stared at each other, wide-eyed, before you finally said arrogantly. "I did it better." The reply from him came instantly "No the fuck you didn't. Me and You?" He mocked, his voice going exaggeratedly high pitched. "Uh, with me?" You imitated gruffly, ducking to avoid the pillow Ron threw at you. "Hey! You started it!" You shrieked, picking your book back up, promptly hiding your face in it to cover your flushing cheeks and excited smile.

"Holy shit." Sirius commented. "Look at them go." Remus hummed from beside him, ignorant to the fact you could hear them perfectly. "It only took you and James months of convincing each other to ask us out. Took them two minutes." On the other side of the room, Harry and Hermione shot each other excited looks, grinning at the loud conversation you had with Ron. "I think she did it better." Harry whispered, hitting his shoe against Hermione's. "Oh yeah, she definitely did."

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restandbloom · 5 months ago

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I’m not entirely sure if we talk enough about Harry stepping in front of Ginny in the secret corridor in hbp to shield her from Ron’s potential hexing even though Harry knew damn well Ginny could/would do far more damage to Ron than Ron could do to her. Sigh. Cute shit.

#hinny fluff #harry x ginny #harry potter #harrypotter fanfiction #hinny #harry potter angst #ginny weasley #harrypotterdailly #hinny fanfic

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sunseekericecream · 1 month ago

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i dont think i ever stop thinking about fanfiction. what has come of my life

#jegulus #regulus black #james potter #the marauders #desi james potter #gay #harry potter #harrypotter #marauders #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3

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mastermindmiko · 4 months ago

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hi,

i’m currently in my bill weasley phase aha

i was wondering if i could have gut wrenching angst and maybe fluff i need something to just cause pain aha

it’s okay if not :)

Hey, I know this is very long overdue but it's finally here! You asked for angst, and angst you shall receive. I hope I did it justice. More (Bill Weasley Fanfiction)

content warnings: none I believe, but lmk, kissing maybe? not edited Pairing: Bill Weasley + fem!reader word count: 9201 (sorta got carried away) Summary: You and Bill were always friends, until there was something more.

a/n: Trying my best to finish all the requests I've got and simply just posting more. Also, I tried this little thing were I did a sort of rhyming (don't want to call it poetry cause that's too big a compliment) to start off the ff, you can sort of see it like a summary maybe too.

It all starts out the same way, with a girl and a boy that meet when they were small then grow until they’re tall. They grasp each other's hands, holding their stance as their friendship solidifies until there’s a shift, a switch, a fully expected change that takes things from where they were to where they are now.

There were only ever a few things that I cared about; My family, my friends, my future and my Bill. He never fit into neither the first nor the second categories as it was simply just different with him. Living only a few kilometres away from the Weasleys ensured that I spent most of my time with him, and as we both went to Hogwarts it only made me want to sew him to my side even more.

“Hey, why do the Weasleys call you Honey?”

“Ummm, it involves an incident where I ended up being a large tub of honey.” I explain as vaguely as I can, still trying to erase the embarrassing story out of my head. Tonks looks at me weirdly before waving her hand, “I don’t even want to know.”

I spent ten years of my life being Bill’s friend, best friend even, watching as his family got bigger and so did he. He developed his interests and I developed mine when all I thought of him was a friend, and none of that changed until-

“Do you think Bill’s hot?”

Nymphadora- Tonks asked me one day. I look up from my lunch and ask her, “What?”

“You know Bill- you’re friend, tall, ginger-”

“I know who Bill is…” I trail off, and I think of what she just asked, now that we were fifteen (practically adults), everyone started falling for people left and right, while I just focused on Quidditch and OWLs. Bill was doing the same as me, we would study together, practise together, there just wasn’t enough time building a future and also doing normal typical teenager stuff.

“You gotta admit, he’s gotten mighty fit over the summer.” Tonks said, and I looked at the girl who’s two years younger than me disapprovingly. Despite being in different years and houses, we shared the same lunch period. I scold, “Aren’t you a bit too young to be thinking of things like that?”

“I just call it like I see it.” She replies, and then eyes me up and down with a grin on her face. I blush and push her shoulder. She laughs and I smile a bit myself. There’s a beat then she asks again, “You didn’t answer my question…do you think that Bill’s hot?”

I look around trying to recall in my memory the most accurate picture of Bill I could conjure up. He’s definitely gotten taller. I remember how I used to be able to ruffle his hair without having to step on my tiptoes- and his hair’s gotten longer, much to Molly’s disapproval. He’s gotten a bit more tan from spending all that time out in the sun, making his freckles more apparent.

All that time in the sun playing quidditch also changed his physique a bit. His shoulders are broader, his biceps and thighs thicker. Hands are larger and stronger. I recall the last game of the summer, only a few weeks ago, where every member of the Weasley family was playing, Ginny being the referee as she was still very small. I was the beater, as always. Bill was the chaser, and we were on opposite teams. Halfway through the game, two hours in, we were still playing and Bill decided to throw some water over his head, cooling him off. The water soaking his hair, arms and shirt, making it cling to his body-

“You totally think he is!” Tonks exclaims, and brings me out of my daydream. I feel my face flare up and I stutter as I defend myself, “It’s not that, it’s just yes, he’s fit but he’s my friend, so he’s just that, he’s just fit.”

Tonks is still giving me that cheeky grin when I decide that that’s enough of that interaction, so I stand up, deciding to just stay in class for the next fifteen minutes till class starts. I say, “Well, I gotta go. Bye Tonks.”

She shakes her head, and waves while I headout of the Great Hall. I pull out a piece of paper from my bag as I look at my schedule, I turn around to move the other way, when I see Potions scrawled up on the parchment. I shiver as I enter the dungeons and hope that Professor Snape doesn’t mind me waiting till class begins, I could prep the cauldron while I wait.

I walk through the dark silent hallways, hearing the echoes of each step I take. A large hand encompasses my shoulder, and I turn around quickly lifting my wand from my waist band. I point my wand to the face of my attacker and I meet with the grinning face of Bill Weasley. I relax as Bill takes the wand out of my hand and places it inside my belt loop, a normal occurrence, if it weren’t for the fact that his face is close to mine and I notice just how sharp and angular it is.

“Tonks told me you were heading to class, what are you doing going to potions this early? Snape barely tolerates Gryffindor’s when he has to.” Bill says, and push his hand off my shoulder, and he chuckles. I say, “Snape actually likes me, and don’t act like that when you're practically his favourite.”

“It’s only cause I’m the best.” He grin, cockily, and he taps his head, pointing towards his brain. I push his shoulder playfully and reply, “Second best.”

***

The Gryffindor common room fills with the sounds of both Muggle and wizard music. The smell of alcohol and sweat from the mixing bodies encases the area. A muggle born brought a machine that flickers light in different hues of different colours, having the lights bounce off the walls, as people dance in the centre of the room, and the chatter fills.

I’m standing against some wall, holding a cup of butterbeer that was gathered from an illegal trip to Hogsmeade only a few hours ago after the win for the house. I never did drink much alcohol and especially not during Quidditch season. This was the first year I’ve been able to participate in the parties that Gryffindor house threw, and it was exciting, but much more boring than I expected.

I’m watching the room, looking around, seeing a young Percy trying to make his way up to the boy’s dormitories as swiftly as he could while carrying two books that are twice the size of his head. Some drunk seventh years, push him, unintentionally, Percy glares at them nonetheless. I move towards him, pushing away the couples that might as well just get a room. I fling my arm around Percy’s shoulder, nod my head towards the stairs. I carry one of the books from him and we walk towards the dormitories.

He rushes up the stairs as fast as he can as soon as he’s out of the sea of bodies. I call out his name, and despite the loud music, he turns to me, guiltily. I say, “We’ve told you a million times that you can’t stay out this loud, especially after curfew, even if it is to study.”

“I know, I know…you won’t tell Bill?” Percy asks, lips pursed and ashamed. I sigh and give him the other book back and reply, “Not if you don’t do it again.”

He grins from ear to ear, large glasses slipping off his nose. He laughs, “Thank you, Honey!” He wastes no second before running up the stairs once again, and I can just barely hear the sounds of the footsteps fade away before I walk away.

I drink the last bit of the butterbeer in my cup. I go to the opposite side of the room, grimacing as people shove me around. I stand by the drinks table and start to look around for the butterbeer bowl, when I notice a mop of red hair, reaching for the firewhiskey. I shake my head and sneak up behind the unsuspecting Weasley. I reach forward and grab a handful of his hair, and pull him back.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” Charlie chants, while I pull him by his hair. His hands lift up and try to loosen the grip that my fingers had on his hair. I threaten, “Put the cup down.”

He frowns but (reluctantly) puts it down. I pull him by his hair once again and push him towards, once again the stairs of the dormitories. The place is quieter there, and I can scold him properly. We reach near the top of the first year boy’s dormitories, and I leave his hair. He rubs his head, and looks at me with a frown.

“What in Merlin’s name did you think you were doing?” I say, while placing a soft (sort of) slap on the back of his head. He swats my hand away after, and continues to rub his head. He pouts, “Stop ruining my best feature.”

“No, your best feature is your Quidditch skills, not your stupid hair that needs to be cut.” I scold, and look at him, disappointed. I continue, “What did you think you were during? Trying to drink Firewhiskey of all things!”

A drunk seventh year passes us and shouts, “Yeah little Weesilie, you should try something lighter for your first time.”

“Bugger off!” I shout at him, and I turn back to Charlie. I rant, “There’s a reason why people below fifth year aren’t allowed to be at parties and being at parties includes alcohol, so until a few more years, you’re not allowed to have any-”

“A few more years! I’m fourteen as soon as I hit that big 15 like you and Bill, I’m gonna have some.” Charlie says, and he complains, “All my friends have some, and so do you and Bill, why can’t I? It’s just one year.”

“A year is a long time, Charlie, and so what if all your friends are doing bad things, doesn’t mean you should to, besides Bill and I don’t even like to drink. Even when you turn 15, you’re not going to be able to drink a lot because you’re a seeker, Charlie!” I reply, and he huffs and folds his arms together.

“That still doesn’t mean that I won’t try it.” Charlie pouts, and he looks down at the floor. I start to feel a little bad for being too hard on him, so I pull him in for a hug, surprised as to how he’s my height now. I say, “If you want to, you could, but until then, it’s off limits.”

I smile at him, and ruffle his hair a bit. I pull my hand back then put it back on his hair again, and play with a few locks. His face flushes, and he grins at me when I say, impressed, “You weren’t lying, you definitely have the best hair.”

“You must be lying because you’ve seen my hair.” Bill interrupts and he walks out of the first year boy’s dorms. Charlie looks at me with a panicked look, and I contemplate if I should tell Bill about what just transpired. I play, “No, I have, Charlie’s hair is just better.”

Charlie pokes his tongue out at Bill, and I grin, and Bill slaps the back of Charlie’s head. Charlie grimaces and mumbles, “You two really are best friends…”

“Go on, back to your dorm, now.” I say, and he rushes up the stairs. Bill sits down on the stairs and he pulls me down by his hand. I notice how large his hand is compared to mine. I sit down beside him, on the other side of the steps and he sits opposite to me, backs against the walls of the spiralling staircase. Bill asks, “What was he doing down there?”

“Got lost, I guess…” I trail off, deciding that Charlie’s learnt his lesson. Bill looks back at the first year dorms, and he explains, “One of Percy’s friends, Oliver, found me and said that he couldn’t find Percy, he was afraid that Percy got trampled or squished by the people at the party-”

We both laugh, and he continues, “Then a few minutes later, Percy walks in, alright and everything…so, thank you.”

“Hey, I had nothing to do with it, Percy’s very smart.” I say, keeping Percy’s secret. Bill fiddles with the carpeted floor of the stairs and he replies, “I know you he is, but I also know that you helped, he was out at the library again, just like you helped Charlie.”

I don’t say anything and so, Bill smiles at me, and he says, “You don’t have to take care of them, it’s my responsibility, I can do it myself.”

“I know you can, but they’re sort of like my little brothers too, so I want to.” I reply, and we sit in the silence for a bit. It was a completely normal moment, Bill and I never felt the need to fill in the silence, but for some reason, he asked, “Does that mean that you think I’m your brother too?”

The question takes me off guard, and my heart lurches to my throat. My eyes flicker between his, searching for the right answer. Maybe for the first time ever, I find Bill hard to read. I choose to give him the truth, so I think of what that is. I couldn’t classify Bill as a sort of family, but I also don’t know where I would put Bill. I opt for the simple answer , not wanting to think about more. I didn’t even know if there was more. I replied, “No…”

He shuffles a bit closer and the air is charged between us. I pull my knees together and pull them to my chest, to make way for him to come closer. I brush an annoying lock out of my eyes, not wanting to spend a second not looking at him. He says, abruptly, "You're very handsome…”

He notices what he’s said and he flushes, I let out a small laugh and notice the way his face heats up, and how mine is also red. The contrast between his brownish red freckles and his skin and the way his nose seems to be at a perfect angle, Bill honestly was just so- “You’re pretty too”

He smiles at my comment, and he looks at my eyes, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Why can’t I understand what he’s doing? When have I ever not understood what he’s doing? Ever since Tonks made me realise how drop-dead gorgeous Bill is, I-

“If I’m not your brother, what am I then?” He asks, and he searches my eyes for the answer that I don’t even know myself. He isn’t my friend, it feels wrong to say it, and I don’t know what other thing Bill could be for me, but we’ve been friends for a decade now. I answer, “I don’t know.”

“Friend?”

“I don’t know.” I repeat, and I look down at the floor, not being able to stand his piercing blue eyes trained on me anymore. His hand grazes my cheek, pushing the hair behind my ear, the contact makes me shoot up to look at his eyes. It feels different, so much more different than any other look we’ve shared before. He adds, “I don’t know either…”

His hand cups my cheek, and it feels so much more, but what even is more between Bill and I? He brushes his thumb over my cheekbones, and he leans in. My legs part slightly, so he can shift closer. I didn’t even realise what I’d done till he was only a few centimetres away from my face. He looks at me, searching, and then down to my lips.

My breath hitches, and I can see his chest heave. My lips part under his gaze, and he leans closer. Maybe this is what more means for us? I don’t know what could happen after but I know this-I lift my hand up to encase his wrist. His eyes flicker back to mine, and I say, “You’re never going to be the same to me after this.”

“You haven’t been the same to me in a while.” His last words before he gives me one last look before he kisses me.

***

The summer passed by in a blur where it’s nothing but hazy memories of Bill. It’s not a surprise that I spend most of my summer at the Weasleys with my parents working all around the world. The surprise is the way Bill grasps my hand under the table, and the whispers between us are now sweet not taunts and games.

He would send me cheeky smiles and flirty grins across the room. He would wake me up in the middle of the night and take me from Ginny’s room so we could go watch the stars outside the Burrow, laying on the grass, just like now…

“I can’t believe that we’re about to go back to Hogwarts in two days.” Bill says, as he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me impossibly close to him. Contact has never been unknown between us, but this was entirely new. I run my hands through his long hair, and I sigh, “Yeah, two more years and we’re out of Hogwarts.”

“Everything will change…” I trail off, scared of what’s to come, when we’re getting real jobs and we’re not sheltered anymore, out to fend for ourselves. Bill looks at me and I can see the stars shine from his eyes, and it’s a mesmerising sight. Bill pecks my lips before saying, “Not us, never us.”

I smile as he nuzzles his face into my neck, and I wrap my arms around his back. I hope he’s right, I really do hope he is. I don’t know what I could do without Bill. I wonder if his family knows about us, if they feel what’s changed. The only one who does know is poor Percy when he wandered off in the library only to find us snogging in between the bookshelves.

The other person who knows about us is Charlie but that’s because the boy was smart when it comes to things like these. He noticed the blush on my cheeks first then Bill’s smiles and then one day he dropped his spoon under the table during dinner and he saw our legs intertwined. He didn’t mention it at first until the next day, when he did the same thing on purpose, and he noticed Bill holding my hand.

He spent the entirety of that week trying to find us doing something. When we were together, he would suddenly burst through the door screaming, ‘AHA!’, and then he’d find us playing cards on the floor. We realised what he was doing early on, but we let him have his fun, until one day, he gave up and burst through the door once again, and said, “Why won’t you guys tell me that you’re dating?”

I answered first, “Because we aren’t…”

Bill nodded along, but Charlie looked beyond confused. He questioned us; Do you hold hands? Spend time together? Act all cute and annoying? Kiss each other? Bill replied yes to all of the questions and then Charlie asked us why we weren’t dating already, and I couldn’t help but wonder the same thing as well.

I run my hands through his hair and I ask, tentatively, “Bill…”

He hums, and I try to find the courage to ask before it’s all gone and forgotten because I need to know. I try to ask the most dreaded question in the world, in a confident matter like it didn’t matter at all to me what his answer might be, instead I stutter, “I-What are we?”

He pauses, tenses, a few seconds pass then he lifts his head out of the crook of my neck and he hesitates, “I don’t know.”

A beat passes, and I press, “I mean, when we go back-to Hogwarts, and some girl asks you out, what will you say?”

He reaches the hand that was wrapped around my waist and rubs the back of his neck. He replies, “I don’t know.”

“What if a guy asks me out?” I ask, scanning for answers in his eyes, hoping to elicit a reaction that he would care if he were to share me with someone else, that he’s mine and I am his. He shrugs his shoulders and says, “You’ll just say what you want to say.”

He puts back his arm around my waist and he puts his face back into the crook of my shoulder. I sigh, unsatisfied with the answer. I place my hands back into his hair and play with the long ginger strands. His breath tickles my neck and he starts planting kisses on my shoulder. He trails them up to my neck and I sigh, contently. He begins to nibble and suckle the skin while I begin to tug on his hair.

He lowers his hand that’s on my waist, bit by bit till he reaches my butt. He squeezes firmly causing me to gasp and press my hips forward towards him. I feel it, I feel him and Merlin, he’s- His hand trails lower to my thighs and it encourages me to sling my leg around his hip. His mouth moves up to my jaw, and then to my mouth. His tongue slips inside my mouth and he pushes his hips against mine. He groans and I pull away, I ask, “Here?”

“What if your parents wake up, or someone notices? We can not traumatise someone else like we did with Percy and Charlie-” Bill silences me by pressing his lips against mine and that’s when I feel him start to harden underneath me. I moan as I wrap my legs more firmly around him as I press our hips tightly together. Bill pulls back this time, and he looks over at me, my hair sprawled everywhere and I feel the heat in my face. I press my hands to my cheeks feeling the difference in temperature. I ask, “Is my face red? It feels like it is.”

Bill smiles and pulls my hands down and kisses me. He replies, “No, it’s perfect.”

***

Bill Weasley is my first everything, kiss, first time, first whatever this thing was, and first heartbreak even if we technically didn’t stop. I was alright with it, I was because it felt like he was just as into me as I was into him. Just because we didn’t label the thing that we had doesn’t mean that we have to. It’s Bill, and I trust him.

It was all going alright, more than alright, it was great, there wasn’t a moment that I didn’t spend with him, and I was so sure that I was falling for him, if I hadn’t already. I was on my way to Ancient Runes when I heard Bill’s voice, I perked up, until I heard another female voice with him. I slow down and I overhear the conversation.

“Do you?” The female voice asks.

“No, I uh, I don’t.” Bill

“So, you don’t have a girlfriend?” I can hear the grin in her voice

“Nope, I’m single.”

I feel my eyes well up and I take a few deep breaths willing them away before deciding that I’m going to be taking a different route, and I end up late to class. The thing that I was worried about happened, and ugh, what am I going to do with myself if he does end up getting a girlfriend and it’s not me?

I avoided Bill like the plague for a week, the only Weasleys I’m speaking to were Charlie and Percy, but even then it hurt, they looked so much like him. I cried more than I’m proud of, and even when Bill did try to talk to me, I would simply just walk away.

It’s been exactly a week since I overheard Bill and I’m on my way to ancient runes once more. Someone calls my name, and Edgar Bones walks over to me. I wait for him to catch up and he smiles at me with a boyish grin. Bones asks, “You need a walk to class?”

“Umm, I’m alright.” I reply, and walk on, but Bones follows. He walks along beside me and says, “Well, I’d like to give you one if you don’t mind.”

I don’t reply and simply make my way to class, hoping that Bill wouldn’t get the wrong idea seeing me and Bones- wait, why should I care about what Bill thinks? He’s not my boyfriend as he’s made it very clear to some girl. I take Bill out of my mind and walk on. Bones walks beside me, an appropriate distance away. Halfway through the walk he looks towards me and asks, “Would you like me to carry your books?”

“No, I’m alright.” I reply and adjust my bag over my shoulder and the books that are on my arm. I wonder what he might be doing walking me to class. Over the past six years, we’ve only had a few conversations all involving school or Quidditch. Nonetheless, he reaches over and grabs the books out of my arm, and I mumble a thank you at the kind gesture.

We reach the door of the class, and I stand there. I look around while noticing Bones shuffling on his feet. I decide to be blunt and ask, “Bones, we’ve talked about four times since we’ve known each other, why are you walking me to class and holding my books?”

“I-uh, I know this is out of the blue for you, but I-” He cuts himself off and looks around nervously. His gaze falls on something behind me and I look around to see McLaggen giving Bones two thumbs up, I look back at Bones confused and he clears his throat. He asks, “Would you like to go out with me?”

It’s my turn to look around nervous, and shuffle awkwardly on my feet. I reply, “It’s just that we don’t know each other that well.”

“I was hoping we’d get to do that over some butterbeer.” He says, and I notice the red tint on his cheeks. The silence is tense. I think it over; Bones is quite fit, and he’s one of the smartest people in Hufflepuff, I’ve heard he’s actually quite kind also. Besides, not like anyone is holding me back anymore. I say, “Sure then.”

He beams and he raises his hand up in a thumbs up, no doubt to show McLaggen, it’s sort of cute, if you think about it. He plans, “How about tomorrow? I’ll pick you up at eleven and we’ll head over to the three broomsticks?”

“That sounds good.” I say, and he grins. He hands me my books back then says quickly, “Well, I’ve got class in two minutes, so I have to run. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

He breaks off into a run, McLaggen following behind him, and I head inside class. I sit in the middle beside the wall where I usually sit, and think about this date. I don’t like Bones, but most people don’t have feelings for the person that they’re going on a first date with. After the date is when the feelings pop up. It’s actually nice to be asked out, and not to be kissed once everyday when no one’s watching.

I was getting excited about the prospect, thinking about what to wear, how to style my hair, when Bill walks in. He looks at me with a deep frown and heads off to sit beside someone else. I expected him to try to talk to me like he has in all of our classes, but he didn’t. He stares out the window for the entirety of class, which is unlike him, especially during the class that made him realise that he wanted to be a cursebreaker.

I take a few notes, more than I usually do without noticing just in case Bill needed some after class. He would do the same when I would doze off during class or when I was sick. The bell rings and I put my books in my bag and sling it over my shoulder, holding a few on my arm. I barely walk out of class when someone pulls on my bag, pulling me back as well. I say, “Hey!”

“Is it true?” Bill asks, just as I register that it’s him and not someone that I don’t know. His cheeks are flushed, but in the way that makes him seem agitated. I look at him confused and I ask, “What?”

“You’re going out on a date with Bones? Is it true?” He asks, and I find myself pursing my lips and avoiding to answer. He runs a hand through his hair frustrated, and then continues, “Cause maybe, you didn’t know it was a date? Did you know?”

“Can we not do this here?” I ask, when I see people stopping walking around and looking at me and Bill instead. A few whispers follow, and Bill grabs my hand to lead me somewhere more crowded. We stand in front of a large window with the sunlight beaming through and it’s near a hidden alcove where no one comes often. The hallway is empty and Bill doesn’t say anything before he sighs and asks, “Are you really?”

“Yes.” I reply, and I can see his shoulders fall. He takes a few steps closer to me and asks me, “Did you know it was a date?”

“Yes, I did, I’m not an idiot.” I snap, and his shoulders tense over and his frown deepens. His stance becomes defensive and he folds his arms over his chest. He says, “Bones is a dick, he just uses girls for sex, and he’s a big jerk.”

“No, he’s not-”

“He’s mean to his family and he treats his friends badly-”

“No! He doesn’t, Bill.” I shout, “Stop making him try to seem like a jerk just so I won’t go out with him.”

He bites his lip and looks away. His chest is heaving and his jaw clenches. I take a step back and I whisper, “You don’t have a say on who I go out with, you’re not my boyfriend.”

Bill eyes me for a moment, and I try to stand my ground. He sighs, before turning around and leaving in a huff. I can hear his angry footsteps even after he’s out of my line of sight.

***

The entire time when I’m getting ready to go out on a date, I think of Bill. Bill always said he liked my hair up, so I’m keeping it down. He liked me in red, so I’m wearing blue, anything to keep him out of my head. It’s my first ever date with a guy who might actually want to be my boyfriend instead of Bill who would kiss me and leave.

10.55

I walk downstairs and decide to wait the last few minutes outside the common room while I wait for Bones. I’m just about at the end of the stairs when Charlie rushes over to me. “Hi, Honey!”

“Oh, Hi Charlie.” I wave to him while he walks over to me. He smiles and he walks over to me, way too slowly. He reaches me and asks, “What are you doing dressed up so nice?”

“Nothing much, Charlie.” I reply, not wanting to tell the boy that things with Bill and I are what they are. He looks me up and down, and narrows his eyes at me. He asks, “Are you going out on a date?”

10.57

“I uh- yeah.” I say, reluctantly. Charlies purses his lips, thinking. He looks at me, confused. He thinks out loud, “That’s weird, Bill told me that he wasn’t going to Hogsmeade today.”

“I’m not going with Bill.” I say, and Charlie’s face falls and he’s looking at me with those heartbroken puppy eyes. My heart aches, and I can’t stand it much longer. I rush, “I’ll talk to you later, Charlie.”

10.58

I look up from my watch as I make it to the door of the common room when a small little redhead steps between me and the door. Percy grins up at me, and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He holds a book out to me and he asks, “Hey, honey! Could you help me with this potions chapter?”

“Of course, Percy just when I head back, it’s hogsmeade weekend.” I explain and his smile falls. I wonder why I am breaking all of the young Weasley’s hearts today. Percy asks, “Where are you going at Hogsmeade?”

“I’m not sure you’d know what I’m talking about Percy, you’ve never been there before.” I reply and look back at my watch.

10.59

“I still wanna know.” Percy insists, and I reply, “I’m going to this place called ‘the three broomsticks’ where I’m going to have some drinks and stuff like butterbeer.”

Percy nods his head, looking intrigued. He strokes his chin like an old man deep in thought. He says, “Tell me more about it.”

“I would love to, Percy and I will, but I have to get going now.” I say, and he frowns, I ruffle his hair and try to soften the blow, “But how about, when I get back, after lunch maybe, we can go to the library and I’ll tell you all about it and I’ll help you with potions.”

He nodded and then quickly ran back up the stairs…weird. I finally open the door to the common room and I see Bones standing a few feet away from the door. He waves to people in our year as he greets them.

11.00

I look at my watch and I smile at his punctuality. He grins when he sees me and I offer a polite smile back. I walked over to him and he met me halfway. He tells me that I look pretty and I tell him the same. He loops our arms together and we walk through the castles to where the carriages are being pulled towards Hogsmeade. We talked a little most of the time but a lot at other times. We sat watching the snowfall on the ground from the window. He tells me his favourite season is spring, I tell him mine is autumn.

He told me how this is his first date and I told him the same. I can tell that he’s itching to ask Bill and I’m dying for him not to. We drink butterbeer and he offers to pay. We talk about our plans and how he wants to be a healer. I tell him that I’m not sure. He said that it’s okay. I smile at him as he tells me that he loves Potions and he does the same when I talk about Arithmancy.

When we’re in the carriages heading back when there’s about an hour left till lunch, he tells me he’s had a great time and I tell him the same. He pulls his jacket around my shivering arms, and then leans forward to kiss me. I reciprocate and then he tells me that he wants to hold on to the date a little bit more.

We hop off the carriage and it takes us the better part of an hour to walk back to the castle ourselves. We talk for most of the time, the other half just listening to the sound of our footsteps on the snow. He trips over a branch on the ground and falls face first into the snow. His face leaves an imprint on the snow and I bend over laughing. He throws a snowball at my face, and that’s when the snow fight begins.

We fall on the ground when he asks if I like Bill, and dreadidly I say yes. He assures me and tells me that he’s still happy to have known me better. We decide that if he’s ever in need of an Arithmancy tutor that he can come to me, and his door is always open when I need help with potions.

The date ended and it was a good first date even if it didn’t end with a new romantic prospect. Lunch is almost over, so I grab a few snacks from the Great Hall before heading over to my dorm to change before meeting up with Percy in the library. Charlie stops me as soon as I enter the common room.

“I need your help!” Charlie exclaims and I get worried very quickly. He drags me by my hand up the staircase to the boy’s dormitories and I hope that the staircases don’t turn into a slide beneath us. He leads me up and up and up the stairs till we reach the fifth year boy’s dorms. Bill’s dorms. On our way there, he asks, “You said Bill doesn’t like alcohol.”

“He doesn’t.” I reply and Charlie tuts before he opens the door to Bill’s dorm. I smell the alcohol before I see Bill. He’s lying on the floor, with his hand wrapped around a bottle of Firewhiskey. I hear some tiny sobs before walking over to him, falling to my knees in worry. I wave over to Charlie, motioning for him to leave while I take care of Bill.

Bill beams when he sees me. His hand reaches over to cup my face, and he stutters, “You’re very very pretty, honey.”

I press a tiny kiss to his forehead to soothe him, and he closes his eyes in momentary bliss and I can see the tears streaks running from under his eyes and over his cheeks. I lean to grasp the bottle of Firewhiskey from his hand, but he tightens his grip over it. He protests, “No!”

“Come on, Bill. You don’t even like this thing.” I insist and pry the bottle out of his fingers. I put it away on one of his other roommates' nightstands. Bill frowns, “I know, I know, I just need it today, just today…”

He lets out a sob, and I push him up so he can sit upright and rub circles on his back. He leans his head on my shoulder and he holds my hand. He sighs softly and I ask, “Why do you need it today, Bill?”

“Cause you’re o-on a date.” Bill says, and my heart pounds under my chest. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Bill like this. He rambles, “You went out with someone else, you laughed and you went to the three broomstick, and he kissed you-”

“Wait, you followed me?” I ask, anger bubbling. Bill notices and he quickly lifts his head from my shoulder and looks at me, eyes wide. I still push a strand of his long hair over his eyes. He grasps my head from his face and he chokes out another sob, “I couldn’t help it, I love you!”

I gasp, and Bill sobs covering his face with his hands. I look away, feeling my eyes water, why couldn’t he feel those emotions when sober? I blink away the tears and I pull him to my chest, and he wraps his arms around me, hugging me tight that I might fear for my ribs. I pet his head and whisper, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“You can’t like him, I love you!” Bill repeats and I can’t help but start to let a few tears slip. Bill shouldn’t be spilling anymore thoughts when he’s like this, especially if they might not be true. I say, “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Only if you stay.” Bill says, and I nod my head. I help him up and he falls. He starts tripping over his feet, as I lead him to his bed, the one with the photo of his face on the nightstand beside it. I cover him with a blanket and I move away from him. He grabs a hold of my wrist. I reassure him, “I’m only going to get the trash in, just in case you decide to throw up.”

He nods, and then lets go of my wrist slowly. I grab the trash bin and a glass of water, and set them both beside him. He grabs me again, and he pulls me on top of him. He smiles when he sees my face. He cups my face and rubs his thumb across my cheekbones. It felt nice, like it wasn’t complicated at all. It felt the same way it did during the summer, and I covered his hand with my own. His smile dropped and he asked, “Why did you have to go away?”

“What are you talking about, Bill?”

“You haven’t talked to me in a while.” Bill says, and I clear my throat before correcting him, “A week isn’t a while.”

“A few minutes not talking to you is agony enough.” Bill says, and I sigh. He looks up at me with those bright blue eyes, and his other hand goes to my back, lifting up a slight part of my shirt before settling down on my warm, bare skin. I answer, “You told a girl that you didn’t have a girlfriend.”

He frowns and purses his lips, thoughts travelling throw them, slower than they would if he were sober. The pieces joining together before his lips part in astonishment. He asks, “You want to be my girlfriend?”

It takes me a moment. I didn’t know at first, but the feeling of it, of having him call me his, kissing him whenever I can. I still don’t think that would be enough, I want more, so much more than just that. I reply, “I want to be more than that with you Bill.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

***

“We’re just so proud of Bill for taking this step forward.” Molly gushes about Bill to me. We’re all sitting at the dinner table just a month into the summer before our seventh and final year. The Gred and Forge, Ginny and Ron are on one side of the table. Arthur sits at the head at the table Charlie opposite to him while Molly sits next to Bill who sits next to me.

None of the kids care about the conversation, just eating little chicken nuggets and some fries with chocolate milkshakes, playing with each other. As Fred and George tell eachother jokes, while Ron munches on his food. Ginny just plays with her hair trying to braid tiny strands of it without looking.

Charlie is just rolling her eyes at how much Molly is gushing about Bill, while Bill flushes trying to get her to stop, embarrassed. Arthur is making sure that Fred and George don’t set the table on fire, due to previous experiences. Molly says one thing that peaks my interest, “I mean taking an internship that could lead to a job in Egypt, obviously he’ll visit a lot-”

“What internship?” I cut Molly off asking, tense, and the table went silent. I look at Bill questioningly. Bill swallows his last bit of food before turning to look at me. Molly exclaims, “Oh, I’ve said something wrong, Haven’t I? I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s alright, Molly.” I reassure her from behind Bill, while he pets his mother’s arm. Bill clears his throat and looks at me explaining, “I didn’t take it, I still have to get accepted.”

“In Egypt?” I ask, frowning at the far off place, in an entirely different continent. He says softly, “Yeah.”

“It’s a curse breaking internship, and who knows maybe I’ll be working there around tombs and mummies and-” Bill explains, and I question, “And you’re just going?”

“If I get accepted-”

“And you’re gonna leave.” I point out, and he looks around awkwardly as Ginny starts asking Arthur where Bill is going and why he’s leaving. Molly and Aurthur usher everyone out of the dinning area just leaving Bill and I there. We sit in silence, and I don’t know where to even start. Don’t go, stay. How could you leave? I start, “Were you going to tell me about this?”

“I didn’t want to tell you before I got it, would’ve been a lot of worry for nothing.” Bill says, and I turn around my chair to face him. He does the same. Our knees touching and legs intertwined. I ask, “And if you get it?”

I wait for his answer as he looks down at the ground and I put my hand out grabbing his hand in mine. I play with his hand with both of mine and I place it on my lap. HE stays silent and I ask, “Would you go?”

“I-I don’t know, probably.” Bill says, and I feel pieces of my heart start to crack off. My hold on his hand tightens and I question, “What about your family? I’m sure Molly needs a helping hand around here. Charlie and Percy need their older brother, Who’s gonna keep Fred and George in line? Ron looks up to you, and Ginny loves you so much-”

Bill cuts me off with a strong kiss on my lips while his hand encases my face. It’s the first one in a while and I relish in it. When Bill woke up after my date, he couldn’t remember anything but through a heated discussion we decided to take a few steps back. He was just my friend again. I hold his face in between my hands, and I whisper softly, “I need you to stay.”

Bill places some more kisses onto my face and he hugs me tightly. I pull him closer, and think of how he could go. Go and be so far away. I ask from the crook of his neck, “How long would this internship be?”

“A year.”

“That’s not a long time…” I convince myself and him. He grabs my waist tighter and he says, “Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure that I won’t get it.”

But he did.

***

After a year of not seeing Bill, my first year working as the new professor of Arithmancy at Hogwarts, I might as well be jumping off the walls, bursting from excitement just to see him again. We had spent our seventh year in agony waiting to see if he got the internship or not, and when he did, I spent the last of the year, holding onto him until he had to leave.

He didn’t kiss me once that year, except when we were on the train for the last time, heading back to platform 9 ¾ . We stayed as we were, except I stayed true to my word. I couldn’t see him as simply my friend anymore. Whenever he hugged me I wanted to savour that feeling forever. When he talked I wished I could listen to him talk forever and have those lips on mine. When he held Ginny and played with her hair, braiding it, I couldn’t help but picture a future like this, with him.

When he came back, flew in through the Floo network from the ministry, I wasted no second in running towards him and wrapping my arms around his neck. The sounds of his siblings cheer loudly and they push me aside to hug their brother, and I chuckle at their love for him.

He flicks Fred and George’s hair telling them to stop getting so tall or they might catch up to him. He tells Ginny that she’s still as beautiful as ever, and for Ron to set up the wizarding chess board for a game later tonight. He asks Percy to get all his books ready so he can tell him an in depth description about all of them, and for Charlie to start stretching so he can beat his ass in quidditch. All the while, he shoots me looks from over their shoulders.

Molly kisses her son and scolds him for not writing more often, he tells her that there simply wasn’t enough time, and then Molly, ushers everyone out. I stare at Bill and notice how his arms got larger and he became more chiselled (if possible), I point to the most notable difference. I point to his hair that’s currently in a low bun, making him look so very handsome. I ask, “You grew your hair.”

“Yeah, Mom’s already begged me to cut it twice already.” He chuckles, and I take a few steps forwards towards him. I hug him and put my arms around his neck, and he moves his head to kiss me instead. Kissing me hard, and passionately. It takes me by surprise and I gasp, “Bill, what?”

I don’t get a chance as his lips are back on mine, kissing me harder. I chuckle at his intent, and he wraps his arms around me. Our chests pressed against each other. I breathe him in deeply, and I realise how much I missed him. Every little thing about him too. I pull away to breathe and Bill chases after my lips. That’s when I realise something’s wrong. He’s kissing me because he needs to, he’s holding onto me.

“They’ve given me the job full time-” Bill says and I immediately frown. I start, “I-”

He cuts me off with another powerful kiss and another few seconds of silence where I can hear my heartbeats in my ears due to the lack of oxygen. It felt so blissful despite the ache in my chest because of the lack of air and Bill’s words. Bill starts, “They want me to take the job and move their full time-”

“Bill-”

“But I won’t go, if you ask me to stay.” Bill finishes, and I’m struck by his words. He pecks my lips once more, and I’m left reeling with all this information. I smile, bittersweetly, “You got your dream job…”

“But it’s so far away.” I say, and he nods his head. He pulls my hands in his and he can already feel where I’m going with this. He rants, “You asked me what we are, and I said I don’t know, I never knew, but now I do.”

“You can’t turn down your dream-”

“I know now, I know that I want you, and that I love you, and if you tell me to stay I will. I’ll stay, just tell me to. Tell me that you’ll be mine.” Bill says and he lifts his hands to cup my face, looking at me as if I was the most precious thing in his life, but I’m not. He says, “I never wanted to tell you because I was an idiot, an idiot who was scared that you didn’t want him, an idiot who thought that he would lose you, if he told you he loved you.”

I counter, “This is your dream, Bill. Your future, what you’ve always wanted-”

“No, you’re my future and I’m sorry that I didn’t know it before, but I do know. Ask me to stay, please.” he begs, and I pull his hands down. I look at him cause this might just be one of the few times that I’m going to see him for a long time. I’ve long had the image of his face pressed into my mind. I need to make sure that it withstands the test of time. I reason, “I-I’m not going to make this decision for you by asking you to stay, you might regret as time goes on-”

“I can never regret you.”

“I’m not going to stand in the way of this opportunity for you…you need to make it by yourself. And I’ve always been yours…” I trail off, and press a kiss on his lips. He looks at me dejected and helpless. I say, “Now, let’s go back in, your family’s waiting for you.”

***

Bill’s heading to the ministry any second now to head to the Floo network so he can go to Egypt. His family is going with him, so they can watch him Floo away, and they asked me to come, but I couldn’t because seeing his face before he goes, I might do something stupid like ask him to stay just for me, or maybe go to Egypt right with him.

Molly said she’d come and see me after, they all will definitely be in need of a hug, especially Ginny who’s not going to bear being the only one at the Burrow anymore. I prepared a lot of food for everyone to come and get while they all cope with having Bill move away. I’m not sure I’ve copped myself, I don’t think I ever will.

Knocks echo on my door, and I wave my wand pulling the food out on the table that I’ve arranged mishapely to gather enough chairs for the entire family. I arrange a few more things with the flick of my wand and I realise that I’ve forgotten the cups. I head over to the cupboard, and I flick my wand over to the door, making it fly open.

“Just let yourself in Molly, I’m just putting down the cups!” I pull out eight cups and I hold them in my arms haphazardly, I make my way to the table and start arranging them. I put down all the cups, until there’s two left- “I’m not Molly.”

I looked over my shoulder to where Bill was standing, bags at hand. He smiles at me and I smile back. I look at the clock, and I say, “Couldn’t do without a goodbye? But you’ll miss your Floo time, and you have to go where you’re supposed to-”

“I’m right where I’m supposed to be.” Bill says, and my bittersweet smile drops. I look at him questioningly. He couldn’t possibly mean- He answers my thoughts, “I’m not going.”

He sets his bags down and I put the last two cups randomly on the table. I fiddle with my fingers anxiously. I say, “I don’t want you to throw away your dream for me.”

“It’s more like picking one dream over the other.” Bill says, still standing by the door. He continues, “I want to be a cursebreaker, and I still can be here in England, but I can’t have the life I always wanted with you if I’m miles away, and that’s what I want more than anything.”

It’s the last of the confirmation that I need before heading over to him, rushing into his arms, as he finally holds me, and he whispers that he loves me. He kisses me and I forget to brace myself over how dizzy and giddy he makes me, finally as my own.

a/n: hope you liked it!

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mentally-in-northern-italy · 1 month ago

Text

how did it end? — e.r.

Pairing: Evan Rosier x fem!reader

Summary: Estranged after graduating from Hogwarts, you haven't seen Evan in years when he finally elects to find you again — but his timing isn’t quite right. It never really is.

Word Count: 2.2K

A/N: Do I have 56789 assignments due over the next week? Yes. Did I still choose to finish this year-old drabble up? Also yes. Is it still a drabble? Not really. Not sure if people read for Evan, but here is the drabble that was promised a while ago. Reader and Evan's relationship at Hogwarts is open to interpretation. I really hope I can get my Cedric fic out bc it's rotting in my WIPs.

—

It was tolerable, you suppose, but only just.

The stench of booze mingled with sweat far too often, and the air carried a perpetual weight to it that was hard to ignore. The warmth was nice, yes, but the heat frequently bordered on oppressive on autumn nights such as this one, when the pub was full of bearded wizards and graying witches, boisterous and loud.

Working the bar at the Leaky Cauldron, you had long deigned, was a wholly mindless pursuit, though, and for this, you were glad. At this time of night, no one cared enough to engage in small talk, much too drunk for anything civil. Plus, most were regulars, with orders plainly memorized and simple, satiated often with a glass of Firewhiskey or a Butterbeer and at times, an easy—

“One cup of tea, please.”

The sentence carries a lilt much too familiar, playful and teasing, an amused smile concealed somewhere in between and the request just as odd. You don’t have to look up to know who it is, and he can tell. He revels in it, his undeterred smugness radiating off of him and spilling over the counter he’s currently leaning against.

“This is a pub, Rosier, if you haven’t already noticed.” You don’t look up, unwilling to give him the satisfaction. Though, you can’t do much to hide the slight quiver of your hand as you pour out some Firewhiskey and his small, exhaling laugh tells you he has taken note of it immediately, as subtle as it may have been.

“I have noticed actually,” you can feel his eyes linger on your hands before darting to your face. “Unfortunately.” He adds, with a furrow in his eyebrows and a slight grimace as he looks around the pub with poorly concealed distaste.

It’s much too late now – your peripherals have betrayed you – and your self-control has long since run dry. You catch his gaze as it settles back on you.

The first thing you take note of is how different he looks since you saw him last — the blonde hair has lost a fraction of its luster, though still gorgeous, and his eyes have circles beneath them, telling of his exhaustion he does well to hide otherwise. His shirt is unironed, though tucked into his trousers neatly, and his jacket is thrown haphazardly over his shoulder. It’s oxymoronic in the most infuriating way possible and so Evan.

His grin, you notice with weary eyes though, remains the same, unwavering: blinding, almost to a fault, its shine reflected in his eyes as he takes you in. It’s a feeling long-forgotten, to be looked at this way by him.

“You’re still as pretentious as ever, I see,” you say with a raise of your eyebrows. “Did you miss high tea this evening with your elitist friends? Or have they finally come to their senses and declared your company entirely dreadful?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, as if lost in thought, his eyes drinking you in slowly. “Oh, how I missed that sharp tongue of yours.”

Your face grows hot at the implication. “You’re still just as insufferable.”

He only grins as he leans forward, eyes sincere but mouth plainly amused. “And you're still just as beautiful.”

You ignore the praise with a pointed determination he doesn’t quite like. He opens his mouth to say something again when a loud cheer erupts in the background and the simultaneous turn of heads is almost automatic, identical grimaces on both of your faces. An old wizard has fallen onto his arse in the most untoward manner in his drunken stupor. You blink as if it’s the tamest thing to have happened tonight and Evan shakes his head in what can only be described as disbelief.

“Charming place you’ve got here,” he notes, tone thick with sarcasm and a hint of condescension that you’ve come to expect from him. You can see his arms resting on the counter now, as he sits, his jacket thrown somewhere behind him. The white fabric is rich but revealing as the warm glow of the overhead light shines on the skin underneath. You divert your gaze.

“Isn’t it?”

“Though it’d be infinitely more so if you could, indeed, fix me a cup of tea, love.”

You don’t spare him another glance as you uselessly dry off a cup. “I’m sure your house elves will do well to put aside their contempt for you for a few minutes and fix you a cup or two, if you were to ask nicely enough, love.”

“I prefer asking pretty barkeeps for my cups of tea, thank you very much.”

“And I prefer denying such requests.”

He goes quiet finally, his ring-clad fingers drumming on the counter as he sits. He wears an infuriatingly perfect smile still – you don’t think he has stopped smiling since he’d stepped foot into the pub – and his eyes are holding yours, as if in silent challenge. After a moment, he speaks again.

“Edmund!” He calls to the other barkeep, covering the far end of the counter. He knows his name. You try to act unsurprised, though you’re anything but. “A cup of tea, please?”

“Coming up, Rosier!”

He turns back to you, smirk smug and victorious. You grip your washcloth tighter.

“You’ve been here before,” you remark plainly.

“Very perceptive.” He rests his face on his hand, propped up on the counter and smiles wryly.

“And yet, you’re back,” you mock, a mirthless hint of a smile on your face. “You must’ve found the establishment thoroughly enriching.”

He pretends to be deep in thought. “Well, I could never quite find what I’d been looking for all the times previous.”

“Cups of tea? Yes, I’m sure they’re hard to find in London.”

“Pretty barkeeps, actually. You don’t work many shifts here.”

You scoff, though your cheeks burn at the astute observation. “Edmund isn’t pretty enough for you?”

“Oh, he is,” His gaze only shifts when a cup of tea floats to him and he winks at Edmund in thanks. What an obnoxious gesture, you think. “But he’s not nearly as difficult.”

“And you prefer them to be difficult?”

“I prefer them to be you.” His sincerity catches you off guard, unsure eyes snapping to him at once. He hides his amusement in the cup as he sips slowly. “So yes, excruciatingly difficult.”

You hum, as if in agreement. The poorly lit interior of the pub doesn’t possess the capability to dull the shine of his eyes, or conceal his handsome – albeit tired – face, as much you would’ve liked it to. There’s a new scar, you notice, that he’s acquired just above his lip and you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from asking useless questions you would regret verbalizing later.

“You look well,” his eyes follow you as you work, warm and curious. You don’t hate the feeling as much as you should and you try not to bask in the feeling – as short-lived as it may be.

You huff, now blatantly aware of the stains on your work blouse, your unkempt hair that is a stark contrast to his perfect locks. “I wish I could say the same for you.” Even posed as a jest, the statement sounds ridiculous uttered to someone like Evan.

He decides to indulge you. “No? Less handsome than before?”

“There wasn’t much to start with, so I must evaluate accordingly.”

A chuckle that feels too much like a reward. “Cruel, as ever.”

“Honest, more like.”

“I’m something of a masochist, I suppose,” he stretches, leisurely and cat-like. “I quite missed your jabs in Paris.” It’s a plain-enough admission. He missed your jabs, not you. You remind yourself of that over and over. He’s clamant in that way, lazes in attention from wherever he can get it. You’re not special. You never were.

Paris, though. You savor the bit of detail he has provided you on his endeavors, something he has otherwise elected to keep quite secret ever since graduation. There isn’t much you know about him anymore – who he spends his time with, what he’s up to. Though, there are rumors. It’s a time of war, after all, and he’s a Rosier.

“I’m sure you didn’t miss them for long. I hear the French are revered for their candor. Did they also call you a bumbling idiot every chance they got?”

He traces the rim of his teacup slowly, as if he’s coyly willing you to take note of the movement. You oblige involuntarily. He’s satisfied with the quick flicker of your eyes enough to give you a smirk. “Not quite. ‘Devilishly handsome’ were the exact words used, I believe.”

An amused exhale from your lips. “Your mother may be French, Rosier, but she doesn’t count.”

He laughs and its sound hangs in the air around you in a way that makes it hard to breathe. “You know, I’m not sure you’re very good at the ‘customer service’ bit. Are you this rude to all your customers?”

“Just the unwelcome ones.”

He hums. “You’d quite like Paris, I think.” He changes the subject with all the nonchalance of flipping a page of a book you haven’t quite finished reading but have become bored of nonetheless. You note the redirection with interest.

“What were you up to in Paris?” You oblige as your curiosity trumps your ego. You’re aware of the staunchness of the question, of the sudden heaviness that now hangs around the two of you in the pub.

“Familial obligations, and the like.” Automatic, much too rehearsed for your liking, but you can tell it’s true, at least in part. He has a tendency to look away when he lies and so far, his eyes have been set stiflingly steady – on you. He rubs his forearm absent-mindedly. “I didn’t want to come back.”

You bite back a bitter laugh. “Why did you?”

He looks down into his cup. “The tea isn’t the same.”

“I’m sure.”

“And I searched far and wide, believe me.”

“A valiant effort.” You scrub the grimy countertops absent-mindedly.

“Oh, I’m anything but.” He sips his tea again. Offhandedly, he adds, “If I had been more brave, perhaps I would’ve stopped your engagement sooner.”

Your eyes snap to him at once but he remains indifferent, glancing into his cup and reading the leaves as if he’s in Divination. You try to hide your surprise but you can’t do much to mask the break of your voice. “What– How did you–”

He finally meets your eyes with a smile that borders on bitter. “Congratulations, by the way,” he says slowly as if he’s letting the words mull in his mouth and turn sour. Another cheer erupts in the background, a stark contrast to the absence of a celebratory cadence in his own voice.

You breathe shakily. “Is that why you’re here then? To bend me to your many whims and tell me not to marry him?” The drumming of your heart is steady and disturbing.

“Would you like me to?”

Yes. “No.”

“Why aren’t you wearing your ring?” He asks, as if the question had been lodged inside his throat the whole night and has finally broken free. You avert your gaze. He’d always had a knack for asking questions you couldn’t quite voice the answers to.

“I think you should go,” you breathe.

“Is this to spite me?”

“To spite you? Who do you —” Anger envelops you. Only he would assume that your marital arrangements were solely to spite him.

“Do you love him?” He presses, abandoning the feigned nonchalance and speaking with an urgency that unsettles you.

“Leave.”

“Do you?”

A pause you’re not sure how to fill. “What does it matter?”

His eyes search yours and seem to find the very thing you’ve worked so hard to conceal. His gaze softens. “Don’t marry him.”

The soft admonition knocks the air out of your lungs. You only gape at him, hurt and angry at his audacity. “How dare you?”

He stays still, unspeaking and unmoving, as if he, himself, knows he has stepped over a line. He purses his lips to stop himself from saying anything else. Pushing the empty tea cup aside, he stands and dons his coat. “I’m going to go,” he says quietly.

You grit your teeth further. You should’ve expected this by now. Of course, he was going to leave after completely derailing your life. “What–”

“I’ve said what I needed to say,” he speaks again, shoving his hands into his pockets like a petulant child. “Don’t marry him.” He repeats, expression serious and solemn for the first time tonight.

You open your mouth to reprimand him but he interrupts you.

“Please,” he exhales and his plea is almost too quiet to hear amidst the bar chatter. But you hear it all the same and something twists in your chest at the uncharacteristic ask. He turns to go before you can say anything else. You can only watch him leave, gripping the counter until your knuckles turn white.

Only after he leaves the pub do you see a napkin perched on the counter, where he sat just moments ago.

9568 Highfield Road, London, W69 1QB

In the case that you change your mind.

Love, E.

The napkin crumples in your hand with unprecedented force.

You deliberate.

With a huff, you shove it in your pocket.

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beegomess · 2 months ago

Text

M.R. || Is your father at home?

Summary: Mattheo would risk himself for you, even if he had to invade your house... Warnings: Obscnity, +18, cute.

Open orders!

His family didn't hate him. No, Mattheo was the son of the Dark Lord, and although this guaranteed respect, it was not enough to make them want his constant presence. Especially when this approach involved a relationship with one of his daughters - as in your case.

Your father was always quite permissive with the boys you went out with, as long as they came from good families and were pure-blood, of course. But everything changed when rumors came to his ears that you were involved with Mattheo. A boy with a dark history, practically without a family and, worse, of mestizo blood. The news was like throwing gasoline into the fire.

It was a cold night, and the shadows of the garden trees stretched through the windows of the mansion, almost mixing with the tense air of the dining room. The oppressive silence was broken by the crack of his father's voice, who, taken by a poorly contained fury, threw the words into the air as curses.

- If I find out that you're still dating this boy, I swear by everything that you'll be taken out of that school, are you listening to me? - His voice was deep, cutting, echoing through the stone walls. He barely touched the food in front of him; the knuckles of his fingers were white, squeezing the wine glass as if he was going to crush it at any moment.

You nodded, the words stuck in your throat, knowing that facing him at that moment would be useless. But, of course, obedience was never your forte. Someone's blood status or family reputation were never factors that mattered to them, as long as the person next to them brought happiness. And Mattheo brought it.

Disobeying your father was easy; it was difficult to keep the relationship secret. Not only did you keep going out with him, but you also accepted his request to be your girlfriend. It was an intoxicating feeling of freedom, but it also brought complications. You couldn't be seen together in public, you couldn't even walk around the school with the carefreeness of the other couples. His family had eyes everywhere - colleagues, diners, security guards. It was as if they were always lurking, ready to report any slip of yours.

In Hogwarts, the situation was not much better. Each meeting turned into a mission: an exchange of glances in the corridor, hands that touched for brief moments in the middle of a crowd, whispers in the dark between the empty corridors. Sometimes, you had the help of friends, accomplices in secret, who covered your tracks or distracted the most attentive. It was a dangerous game, but it only made everything more intense.

With the arrival of the summer holidays, his father, for the first time in months, seemed relaxed. I believed I could finally stop worrying about you and that boy. After all, what could Mattheo do now, away from Hogwarts and under the constant surveillance of his family? No boy would be stupid enough to try something... Right?

Wrong. Mattheo, of course, would try. And without hesitation.

At the beginning of the holidays, your father even became the man with whom you always had a good relationship. The weight of that explosive discussion was, little by little, dissipating, and he was more affectionate, more attentive. The meals at the long wooden table became less tense again. He even smiled from time to time, and you realized that, even suspicious, he seemed satisfied to believe that you had obeyed him. But behind this relief, he still kept one ear standing, always attentive, watching, suspicious.

That particular night, the silence was absolute in the house, interrupted only by the soft sound of the pages of his book. You were already lying down, the blankets comfortably pulled up to your shoulders, and the moonlight entered through the window, bathing the room in a pale and reassuring light. The whole house seemed wrapped in a peaceful stillness, as if everyone had lowered their guards, just for a moment.

Suddenly, there was a light knock on the door. You froze for a second, but soon relaxed when you heard the familiar sound of the wood creaking as you opened. Your father came in, wearing a smile that seemed genuinely affectionate, something you hadn't seen for some time. He approached the bed with a sparkle in his eyes that, despite everything, still brought that usual paternal pride.

- Good night - he said, his voice low and almost sweet. - Sleep well. - Before leaving, he took one last look, as if he was making sure that everything was in order, and closed the door behind him with a soft click.

You let out a sigh of relief, turning your eyes to the book. But a few minutes later, a soft noise in the window caught his attention. It was a sound that shouldn't be there - as if something was scratching the glass. His heart raced, but not from fear.

You threw the book aside and got up slowly, foot by foot, to the window. As you approached, the darkness outside seemed to move, and then you saw him. Mattheo, with a crooked smile on his face, hanging precariously on the parapet. His heart jumped, between disbelief and euphoria.

He had somehow dribbled the property's protection spells, passed through the muggle world and all the security guards in his house, and climbed to his bedroom window - all just to see her. It was insane, dangerous, and you couldn't help but smile.

You quickly unlocked the window, trying not to make noise. The cold air of the night came in with a breath, you stretched out your hand, your eyes meeting Mattheo's for a brief second, before helping him balance and enter.

He crawled through the window with an almost feline agility, his clothes crumpled and his hair misaligned, but with that intense and determined look that made his heart race. As soon as his feet touched the bedroom floor, he straightened up, taking a deep breath, before pulling her into a tight hug, as if the few days apart were an eternity.

You moved away just enough to look at him, your eyes still shining with surprise and happiness.

- How did you get here? - he whispered, trying to contain his laughter as he pulled him further into the room towards the bed. - If my father knows that... I can't even imagine what he would do.

Mattheo smiled, that confident smile that always managed to make you forget everything around you. He ran his hands through his messy hair, fixing himself a little, as if the little adventure was something trivial.

- I'm smarter than he thinks. - he said, his voice down as he got closer.

His heart was still beating fast, both for the adrenaline and for the relief he seemed to transmit so easily.

His lips met his in a slow kiss, but full of intensity. The electricity in the air mixed danger and desire, as if the world outside was about to collapse, but at that moment, everything was exactly where it should be. His hands wrapped around Mattheo's neck, afraid that he would move away, pulling him closer.

Soon, the touches between you became more urgent, almost hungry. It had been some time since you were alone, and the holidays had increased the distance between you. His hands explored his curves, as if he wanted to record in memory every inch of his body in light grips and caresses under his pajamas.

Mattheo walked away, moving his mouth down his jaw and neck, depositing kisses on his hot skin. You, however, could only wrap your fingers between the wavy strands of his hair, sighing at every touch of him on you.

- I missed you so much... - Her skin shivers just with how his breath hits her, the confession makes her heart and body melt completely.

In a quick impulse, you felt him lift you up on your lap, and that pulled you a muffled laugh as it was carried to your bed. Mattheo carefully deposited you so as not to make noise, his body relaxed as he placed himself between his legs and leaned over you.

His hands touched him again, but this time his fingers groped up to the bar of his shirt, pulling the fabric up, and then you could finally feel your boyfriend's skin under your hands. Mattheo smiled mischievously at the way you stared at his body after being exposed. The icy air that had entered through the window previously had already dissipated with the heat that radiated from their bodies, the weak light that came from the clear sky through the window made it even more beautiful in your eyes, completely hypnotized with it leaning over you again.

His hands explored his body, taking off every piece that prevented him from seeing you, except for his lingerie, at the same time that his legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him even more against him. Your skin heating up even more against him, feeling how slippery you could get just by having him kissing you and running his hands over you.

For a moment, Mattheo moved his face away from his just to be able to observe his eyes when he took one of his hands to the middle of his legs, dragging his fingers over the thin fabric that still covered his skin, feeling how hot and humid it looked there now. A smile formed on his face in response, while you just squeezed your legs around his hand and sighed deeply.

- Always needy for me. - He still whispers with a smile convinced of the effect he had on his body.

That feeling was making you desperate, getting even more tearful when you felt the distance from the fabric, leaving the expectation of feeling something. But he didn't, Mattheo was fascinated by the way his hips moved trying to find more contact with his fingers, in addition to his sighs and low moans that he made a point of swallowing with a deep kiss.

However, the electricity in his body increased even more when, during the kiss, you feel him slide one of his fingers into his folds, slowly and steadily at first, exploring every detail of his walls that, for Mattheo, seemed tighter than he remembered. His lips went back down your neck, clavicles and finally reaching your breasts, just enjoying every little noise that was emitted by you.

Maybe it was the high number of weeks you were without seeing him, after all, you used to go fast, but not that way. Mattheo's lips on his body and his agile fingers working hard on his nerve point seemed to be enough to make you float, given that his legs were already tense and his walls closing around his fingers.

Upon noticing his body's reactions, Mattheo decides to slow down, provoking you to the limit, something common between the two of you. His eyes met and you could see how dark and deep his eyes were, how hungry he seemed to be for you, to the point of even using the friction with the covers to gain some kind of attention, while watching his body squirm under him.

- Matty, please... - Your voice comes out more desperate than you would like, longing for him to go back to making those heavenly movements on you.

In response, he just attacks your lips, completely moving his hand away from you. At that moment, you could swear that you were no longer in this world, letting your mind travel through the black and wavy hair that you loved so much to curl in your fingers. His mind returning only with the muffled noise of the belt jingling that quickly undid, with that, his hands flew to the buttons of the pants that Mattheo wore, anticipating his movements.

He smiled against his lips, but soon walking away and standing in front of the bed to remove the remaining clothes. You stood on your elbows, watching his every movement, practically drooling over the image that appeared to you now.

Even before Mattheo got back closer to the bed, you got up in front of him, but quickly falling on his knees, something that only made Mattheo squirm more against his own hand, which was soon replaced by his fingers and soft lips in wet kisses.

Her hair began to go around her boyfriend's fingers, who used it to keep control over her head. In a sudden movement, Mattheo felt you put it entirely in your mouth, tipping your head back with the sensation, trying to contain any eventual noise that wanted to come out of it.

The fact that he had you in front of him in his room, with his parents sleeping a few doors away, seemed to make everything even better. Having sex in situations like this was not really unusual for both of you, but now it definitely seemed euphoric, wrong and so exciting that only that made you get closer to your orgasms even faster than usual.

The movements of his lips brought him back, becoming a little faster and deeper, it was possible to feel his throat around him. This seemed too much even for Mattheo, who used to have an absurd control over himself. He held his hair tighter, pulling it out of him, seeing how his lips were shiny, combined with a small ligament of saliva bursting with the distancing.

- Look what you do to me, damn it. - He said low while smiling at the way he was now. You got up, kissing him again, but he walked away, just resting his forehead against yours and feeling his panting breath. - Bend over on the bed.

Your body fulfills that request as if it were being controlled by him, turning and bending over the soft mattress, without any concern of being so exposed, Mattheo had already seen you from almost all angles, attracting himself to each of them.

With your spine curved upwards and your face on the quilts, you feel it approaching, getting electric just with a light contact of his fingers curling around the waistband of your last piece, dragging it down on your legs.

- So beautiful. - Mattheo murmurs to himself when he notices a large mirror on the other side of the room, showing him the perfect scene, while he positions himself at his entrance.

Merlin, you wanted to shout his name when you started to feel him come in. Anyway, you couldn't contain a moan even though you were muffled on the fluffy blankets, letting out a tearful moan, the one Riddle loved to hear.

Little by little, he was deeper, finally staying there until you got used to his size. For him, it was like being completely crushed, feeling you pulsate around him and watching his lips be bitten in an attempt to remain silent. But he moved again, calmly at first, but increasing the pace while holding firmly on his hips.

And in some time, you were at the pace you were used to. Mattheo went fast and deeply, always being careful not to emit any sound between their bodies, even though he longed so much to hear them. He alternated his eyes between his body in bed and the image projected in the mirror: you in a complete mess, messy hair and slightly shiny body of sweat. Suddenly, he pulls you by the waist, leaving you standing, back on his chest, without stopping moving against you.

Your eyes were heavy, you were about to feel that wonderful sensation, but he made a point of prolonging the torture. His head hung to rest on his shoulder, but a strong hand grabbed his face in a hurry, making you wake up and see what he saw.

- Oh, fuck, Matty... - You gaspe while he smiles devilically on the skin of your neck, a little marked for you to worry only the next day.

- Ssh, you don't want your parents to hear you say these things, do you, love? - His warm breath hits your skin like gasoline in a fire. - Your father would kill me if he even dreamed of what I do with his beautiful daughter, wouldn't he? Even more under the same roof.

You only have the strength to wave positively, since he would not accept mere silence as an answer.

The movements didn't stop even for a second, in addition to one of his hands going down your belly, reaching where you needed it most, pressing precise circles in place, taking you even higher, while your nails squeezed Mattheo's arm, leaving small half moons in his extension.

His mind at this point was hazy and heavy, lying on his shoulder once again, letting himself be carried away by all the stimulus he gave you.

Mattheo could feel you approaching, it was so wonderful for him. It was as if your body restarted after each orgasm, as if he was always the first to touch you, always the cause of that. The image he watched was the most beautiful he had ever seen, you let yourself be freed, spilling all that liquid that he loved to see flowing between the two of you. Giving him the endorsement to finally paint his fair walls.

His legs just trembled, making you lean on the bed between muffled laughter when he freed himself from you. Mattheo held you to the bathroom, helping you clean yourself before they go back to bed and you rest your head on his chest, just feeling affection on your shoulder and enjoying the heat of his body under the covers.

Lying under the covers, the soft light of the moon filtered through the window, creating a magical and intimate environment. You looked at Mattheo and, with a mischievous smile, asked:

- How did you manage to get into my family's property?

He laughed, a sound that melted his heart.

- Secrets, my love. I can't reveal everything, or you'll find out.

- I missed you so much - you said, the sincerity in your voice transpiring. - I love you.

- I love you too - he replied, pulling you closer. With your head resting on your chest, you soon began to fall asleep, wrapped in the heat of the moment.

But while you slept, Mattheo remained awake, gently stroking your hair. The thoughts consumed him. How he wished things were different. I wish I could take you out, give gifts, kiss her in public without fear of the consequences. My heart tightened when you remembered the furtive nights, when you saw other boys flirting with you. The idea of his parents opening the door at any time left him in a constant state of alert, between challenge and fear.

Earlier, Theodore had revealed a conversation he had heard between his father and Mr. Not. He was talking about introducing you to a boy from a good family, someone he had already chosen. Every word resonated like a blow to his heart. The possibility of losing you was unbearable, and the frustration grew.

While you, unaware of your agony, slept peacefully, your breathing soft and serene, he looked at you, the beauty of your innocence making him promise that he would fight for both of you, no matter what happened. The determination grew inside him. Even in the midst of chaos and uncertainty, the love he felt became his strength.

And so, while you dreamed, he stayed there, vigilant, dreaming of a future where they could be together.

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