#ginny and luna are mostly cheering him on

[easterlyblue]

lee jordan versus desperately trying not to call charles weasley a dilf

[quackquackcey]

Ch. 22: Hedgehogs, Honey, & Hazelnut-Covered Strawberries

Written for @hdcandyheartsfest day 22 prompt: strawberries. 1773 words. Many thanks to my beta @wqtson​! 💛 Rated E. (cw: drunk draco, smut)

Start from beginning on AO3 here, or click the #fic: HHHS tag.

Summary:

A chance meeting—or is it a setup?—leads to the start of a relationship filled with buttery baked goods, sweet smelling flowers, and hedgehogs.~ 🌹🦔

“So, Draco”—Ginny leaned forward, elbows on the table—“when did you start liking Harry?”

Draco sipped some more water, mostly because Harry kept sticking the glass in his face. “The first or the second time?”

“Wait, what?” asked Hermione.

Greg grinned as he ate some skewers. “He had a huge thing for Potter from what, third through fifth year?”

“Probably longer,” snorted Pansy. “He’s always got a thing for Harry.”

Neville looked vaguely confused. “Then why was he so mean to him?”

“Because he’s an idiot,” said Pansy.

“No, ‘cause I’m a Death Eater and Harry’s a saint,” muttered Draco—he grew upset just thinking about those days. “I’m just a nobody, but I wanted to be friends with him, too…. So I made fun of him instead.”

And then he remembered how heartbroken he’d felt that night Harry had confessed to him after being dosed Amortentia—it’d been like that rejection first year all over again except worse, because after everything that had happened, after all the mistakes Draco had made, they’d still ended up friends (at last), only for Draco to realise he’d fallen for Harry all over again and find out Harry had been dosed Amortentia in the same breath.

Of course, now he knew that Harry had meant everything he’d said, but at the time….

Abrupt tears streamed from Draco’s eyes like two faucets turning on, and Harry’s friends panicked.

“Merlin, look what you did, Gin,” said Ron, taken aback by Draco’s sudden waterworks. “You made him cry!”

Ginny spluttered. “No, I didn’t, this is all Neville’s fault!”

“What?” Neville frantically looked around a napkin. “I didn’t mean to!”

Pansy pulled a tissue out of her purse and handed it to Harry to wipe Draco’s tears. “Don’t worry, this also happens when he’s tipsy. He gets very emotional. Draco, darling, what are you so sad about all of a sudden? You’re scaring everyone.”

Draco sniffled as Harry tried to dry his face with the tissue. “When— When Harry confessed the first time”—a few more tears dripped down his face—“and— and I was about to tell him that I liked him, too, but then you three showed up and said he’d got dosed with Amortentia—”

His lips quivered, and Harry’s hand holding the tissue froze.

Blaise pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why did you ask him?” he muttered to Pansy. “Salazar, he’s going to regret his life in the morning.”

“But it’s fine!” said Draco with a teary laugh. “Harry actually meant all of it, so it’s a very happy memory now! But I was very sad at the time….” His smile faded a little, but brightened once more when Theo slid a little packet of strawberry Pocky sticks over to him. “Oh, my favourite flavour! Do you want some, Harry?”

Luna ordered a non-alcoholic strawberry daiquiri as well for Draco. “I see you came prepared, Theo,” she said with a smile.

“Well, I had a feeling this would happen,” he said as he took a sip of his gin and tonic. “He’s easily cheered up, thankfully.”

Harry, on the other hand, was not so cheered up. “Wait, I confessed? What exactly did I say, Draco? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I figured I said something weird after our conversation that one time, but—” He groaned and rubbed his face. “Merlin.”

“You said you liked me and that I smelled nice,” said Draco. He happily munched on a pink Pocky stick, then offered one to Harry. “Don’t be sad. It worked out great in the end, didn’t it?”

Harry looked at him for a long moment before letting out a fond huff and biting the Pocky stick from Draco’s hand. “Yeah, it did. But I think we need more water here.”

Ron and Ginny pushed four glasses of water towards them, having already ordered them for Draco.

“Wouldn’t a hangover spell be better?” asked Luna.

A pause of silence stretched over the table, and then they all laughed or groaned at the same time.

“Oh my god, we’re all such idiots!” said Hermione as she pulled out her wand. “Alright, Draco, this might feel a bit odd.”

And then a weird, almost twisting, chilling sensation pulled through Draco’s body like his insides were one of those stretchy Muggle candies, and—

“Oh god.”

Draco covered his face.

“Oh. My. God.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Neville tried to assure him.

“It was quite endearing, really,” said Luna.

Draco groaned. “You think everything’s endearing, Luna.”

“That’s not true. I don’t think doxies are endearing.”

Harry pecked Draco’s cheek. “You were very cute. Although I don’t know how I feel about you hiding that I confessed that night.”

“Well, I thought it’d be awkward to bring it up, and after we got together, I didn’t think it mattered,” mumbled Draco with a sigh. A nasty aftertaste remained in his mouth from the spell, and he grimaced, both from the taste and his horrifyingly embarrassing behaviour.

Luna slid him the non-alcoholic strawberry daiquiri while Pansy offered her alcopop to him.

“Only a few sips to loosen you up,” she warned him, “then go dance. Don’t you get hung up on your drunk confessions for the whole night.”

Draco did as she said, but only after finishing the Pocky sticks, taking mental notes about the refreshing strawberry daiquiri, and receiving enough silly kisses and hugs from Harry to soothe his nerves.

Harry, unfortunately, refused to dance—“I’m not great at it, so I’ll just watch you from here,” he said—so Draco went off to the dance floor by himself.

The faintest buzz from the alcopop helped him forget his self-consciousness for a moment, helped him relax, and he swayed his hips to the beat among the sea of people. A spot of dancing was always his favourite part on the uncommon occasion that he and his friends went out to the club, because he normally never danced. Only after a few sips of alcohol could he ever manage to relax enough to lose himself in the crowd and the music, to feel it throbbing through his bones.

Someone danced in front of him, a tall man with dimples and beckoning eyes. Draco smiled back, but when the man reached out to circle his waist, he swayed his hips just out of the man’s reach.

The man stepped closer.

Draco ignored him. Arms above his head, he moved to the music, turning slowly as he rolled his hips. The hem of his elegant-but-sexy backless halter crop top rose. The stuffy air against his exposed abdomen was a welcome relief to the heat buzzing under his skin from the few sips of alcopop, and when he felt that man’s hand touch his waist, he was about to bat them away when—

Large hands roughly grabbed his hips from behind.

The other man backed off, and Draco laughed.

“I thought you didn’t dance,” he said loudly amongst the booming bass, turning his head to address the man behind him possessively gripping his hips.

“I’m not,” replied Harry. His hands slid up from Draco’s hips to circle his bare waist. “I’m just here to ward off flies.”

Draco grinded back against Harry and slid a hand in Harry’s hair. “Yeah? Maybe I can tempt you, hm?” he murmured an inch away from Harry’s lips.

He swayed and rolled his hips as sultrily as he could, all for the sake of tempting Harry, and the more he grinding up against Harry, the more he could feel Harry’s erection filling out against his arse, much to his satisfaction.

And then Harry grabbed Draco’s chin to lay a steamy kiss on his lips and thrust back, crotch rubbing between Draco’s cheeks, and Draco’s ensuing moan vibrated into Harry’s mouth.

Harry snaked a hand up Draco’s thigh, fingers trailing teasingly along Draco’s own bulge in his skin-tight leather shorts before slipping inside to rub that sensitive spot between his balls and his hole.

Draco let out a sharp gasp.

“What’s the matter?” Harry brushed Draco’s long white-gold hair, curled into loose waves courtesy of him, away from where it draped on his shoulders to nip Draco’s ear and mouth his way down Draco’s neck. “Keep dancing.”

It was unfair how the roughened edges of Harry’s deepened voice sent a visible jolt of pleasure through Draco’s body.

He turned as he danced this time, hips undulating until they faced each other, and when he did a body roll up against Harry, the intense gaze in those dark, glittering eyes stole his breath away.

An infectious grin spread across Draco’s face—something about Harry always seemed to bring an involuntary, almost shy smile to Draco’s lips and send the butterflies in his stomach fluttering. He stretched his arms out over Harry’s shoulders and bit his lip. “Like this?” he asked as he body rolled against him.

Draco swore he heard Harry growl despite the sound being buried amidst the booming bass.

And then Harry dipped a lubed finger—the fact that he cast a wandless, nonverbal lubrication spell turned Draco beyond belief—just inside the tight furl of Draco’s hole, both hands groping his arse under his tight shorts, and Draco was glad the bass buried his needy moan.

“Keep dancing for me,” murmured Harry against Draco’s lips, and with every roll of Draco’s hips, Harry’s finger drove in further.

Only Harry could hear Draco’s drowned-out whimpers and moans amidst the pounding music and dancing mob.

He added another finger, then another. His other hand gripped the back of Draco’s neck as they sloppily but fervently kissed, and he swallowed every one of Draco’s lewd noises like he was starved.

Draco couldn’t get enough.

Not of Harry’s lips and tongue that tasted of alcohol and pineapple-coconut from Harry’s piña colada, nor of Harry’s fingers in his arse driving him crazy—at this point, Draco’s hip rolls had just turned into erratic thrusts against Harry’s hand to get Harry to finger him harder.

But it still wasn’t enough, and Draco was nearing his limit.

“H-Harry,” he gasped between kisses and moans, “I can’t— My legs— More—”

Harry caught him just as his legs gave out.

“I guess this is a sign for us to move elsewhere, hm?” murmured Harry in Draco’s ear as he scooped Draco up like he weighed nothing.

Draco laid a sizzling, open-mouthed kiss on Harry in response, his hole now desperately clenching around nothing but air.

“Hurry up,” he muttered more needily than intended. “I miss you.”

Those words seemed to snap something inside Harry.

And with little more than an impatient scowl, he nearly shoved people over in his rush to the exit.

[shadowsinger11]

Inspiration

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Requested by anon: Could you do a Fred Weasley imagine where he falls in love with Harry’s younger sister. (Maybe a after the war where he lives)

Word Count: 3.3k (my hand slipped oops)

Genre: Fluff, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining etc.

Warnings: Slight innuendo, Fred being cute and hot simultaneously

Tags: @self-ship-love @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii @jenniweasley @elf-punk @heart-of-tempered-steel @itseatyourdamnapples

Message me if you'd like to be added!

Masterlist

Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, England, July 16, 2000

It was a chilly Sunday evening. The summer air buzzed with excitement and the tender aroma of magnolia as tiny white and pink petals were gracefully falling from the huge cherry trees, carried by the light breeze. Twilight painted the horizon in liquid gold and fiery red, soon followed by mellow shades of dark blue that brought countless sparkling stars.

It was getting the slightest bit colder, but it did not matter; nothing else mattered but the loud cheers and cheerful music, celebrating the official bond between a Potter and a Weasley under the wide night sky.

You couldn't have been happier for your older brother, Harry, who was currently dancing with Ginny, his now wife - now and for the rest of his, hopefully, but not really likely, peaceful life. For the longest time you've been wondering how he'd always manage to get into trouble even as a small First year with no experience in the wizarding world whatsoever. Or, perhaps, that was the exact reason as to why evil-battling and rule-breaking were such common practices when hanging out with him.

However, there was no fighting that day. There was no room for worry and fear when the entire Weasley family and their loved ones were gathered on the clearing in front of the Burrow, chatting, laughing, dancing, singing, drinking, celebrating and living for what seemed to be the first time since Lord Voldemort's fall. Danger was practically nonexistent in that blissful moment which was frozen in time, once having looked agonizingly distant and impossible to hope for. But that dream was no longer just a foolish fantasy to heal wounded hearts. It was there, and it was happening in the most beautiful way imaginable.

And suddenly, all those clichés of a married life weren't even clichés. They were simply humble wishes of people who had witnessed far too many horrors in such a short period of time, and only craved stability among the massive chaos. So when you glanced at Ginny, a twirling blur of flaming red hair and a gorgeous wedding dress, you didn't feel the need to comment on how banal the color white was. You genuinely smiled, admiring the pure, exuberant joy, visible in her eyes and scarlet cheeks. Harry looked just as, if not even happier than his wife, dancing in the ridiculous but wholehearted way that only he could, and old memories of him winning the golden egg, training Dumbledore's Army and kissing Ginny in the common room for the very first time flooded into your mind.

It had truly been a long time since you had seen Harry careless and free like that.

You yourself had spent an ungodly amount of hours preparing the yard for the ceremony all day; rearranging chairs, decorating, making sure everything was going by schedule, only to then dance your tired feet off, and though you wanted to continue having fun with Hermione, Luna and the rest of the girls waiting for you, you really needed a break. And a drink.

Excusing yourself to leave the particularly interesting conversation you were having with distant Weasley relatives, you slipped off your black flats that, despite looking absolutely stunning, hurt your feet terribly after an entire day of fussing over the color of napkins and flower bouquets. Barefoot on the grass, you walked over to a chair next to a table which seemed to have been occupied, but judging by the mostly empty glasses and plates, the guests weren't coming back anytime soon.

You tossed your shoes aside with a sigh and rushed to rub your aching toes, hissing from how sore they were.

How has Ginny been dancing like that for hours?

"Enjoying the party, I see?" a familiar deep, slightly husky voice commented, causing you to look up.

It was none other than Fred Weasley, dear friend from childhood, staring down at you, his ever-present charming smirk resting on features and hands shoved into the pockets of his dragonskin suit. But it was his flaming red hair that made your eyes widen - it was carefully smoothed back, shining under the moonlight like liquid iron.

Fred's eyes still contained their famous, loveable mischief, except now slightly tamer and calmer. His firm biceps had visibly grown in size, stretching out the fabric of his coat just a bit to give you a prominent silhouette that caught you off guard.

It had been two years; he had changed so much.

And you were afraid to admit you had too.

You blinked in surprise, processing his uncharacteristically sophisticated appearance before realizing what he had asked you.

"Would've enjoyed it far more if my legs weren't killing me," you groaned half-heartedly and leaned back on your chair. "What's with your hair?"

"What's with your feet?"

"I asked you first," you cut him off. "I bet Ginny is responsible for this."

"Actually…" Fred trailed off, and, whether on purpose or not, ran a hand through the ginger locks to keep them in place, unaware of how you suddenly wished the hand doing the graceful motion wasn't his. "Mum insisted that I looked my best. What can I say, it's not like George and I usually listen to her, but we thought we'd make an exception this time; our sister doesn't get married every day. But honestly, Ginny couldn't care less about how we looked as long we showed up."

"So like usual, you mean?" you giggled. "Showing up is an achievement for you even if you're underdressed?"

Fred beamed, pearly white smile complementing his formal outfit. You wondered if he used that exact smile to effortlessly allure costumers and business partners at work.

He rested an elbow on the table as he leaned forward.

"Come on now, darling. I know you find my messy hair irresistible either way."

His cockiness only caused you to laugh, though Fred was quick to spot the flash of nervousness in your eyes; it brought him immense pride to know he was the one to turn you from confident to adorably bashful and flustered in the matter of seconds.

He was looking at you intensely, expectantly waiting for you to deny his flirty accusation despite your shyness.

"Nah, Weasley. It only reminds me that even at twenty-two you still do not know how to use a comb."

Fred's eyebrows shot straight up to his hairline, mouth agape. For the first time, he actually needed a second to form a reply.

"Didn't see that coming, I give you that. Courageous one, you are."

Your heart fluttered with joy and you openly grinned, shrugging in half-hearted humbleness.

"Perhaps I am."

Speaking to him felt unusually energizing, as though you had jumped headfirst into a chilly lake. It was unfamiliar and it set your nerves on fire, causing your stomach to twist and turn with sensations that left you dizzy, but unbelievably thrilled. And you wanted more of it, you wanted more of him.

"Fancy a drink?" Fred offered, already pouring champagne into a glass before handing it to you, and you keenly took it.

"Thanks, I've been thirsty with all the preparations I was doing."

"Is that why your legs are killing you?"

"Exactly, I've been running around all day, making sure everything was in order… you know, a lot of organizing and the like."

"It must hurt quite a bit then," Fred commented with a pained grimace. "But I absolutely get you, Georgie and I are just like that when it comes to the shop. It's a lot of accounting if I'm being honest, though I admit he's way better at it. We need to be completely precise; we can't allow any mistakes."

"Woah," you laughed. "Control freak much?"

He wettened his lips, never breaking eye contact.

"Perhaps I am."

You tilted your head to the side, gaze piercing into his in hopes of finding out what those gorgeous brown eyes were hiding. The tiny playful flames in them were eloquent.

Shifting slightly in your seat, you smoothed out your bridesmaid dress and raised your glass, the ghost of a smirk playing on your lips.

"Cheers to us control freaks then."

Fred mirrored your smug expression and your glasses met with a clink. The bubbly liquid tingled your throat, undoubtedly refreshing you and cooling you off. You glanced at the people dancing in the centre of the clearing and giggled - Ginny had apparently thrown away her white shoes long ago, bare feet stepping elegantly on the grass.

"You see, I'd like to chat a bit more with you, but I'm afraid it's a bit too loud here. What about we go to the pond across the field?" Fred suggested, pointing at the woods behind his back. You had visited them countless times when staying with Harry at the Burrow during holidays years ago; the tall trees and the glistening waters had never ceased to bring you comfort.

The noise started to become bothersome, and you felt it even more necessary to continue your conversation somewhere private, the unknown causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Fred's presence could only be compared to a shot of whiskey, or the sensation of anticipating a tidal wave to crash into you in less than a second. It was wild and the tiniest bit terrifying, but oh so tempting as it pulled you in.

"I'd love that, but… you know," you grinned and playfully swang your sore feet. "Can't really walk."

But this didn't at all seem like a problem to Fred Weasley who only shrugged and stood up, "You don't have to. I'll carry you."

"Merlin, no! Please, it's not necessary."

Fred frowned, but his confused expression was soon replaced by an amused one.

"You said it yourself that your feet hurt like hell. And even if carrying you around isn't necessary, it doesn't mean I don't want to."

You attempted to tame the butterflies.

"No, no! You seriously don't have to, I promise," you frantically protested as you held up your hands in front of you to reassure him, but he only gave you a weird look. "I can walk on my own. I'll be too heavy for you."

"There's only one way to find out."

Fred walked over to you and leaned down, one hand sneaking around your waist and the other slipping under your knees. You shrieked in terror, arms flying to clutch at his shoulders, and heat rose to your cheeks from the abrupt contact. Your chests were pressed together, and you were afraid he'd be able to feel your racing heart. His skin was warmer than you had thought, and it successfully fought off the night summer chill.

"Are we going?" Fred whispered down at you, lips so close to yours that you recognized the nuance of champagne in his breath, mixing unbelievably well with the scent of cinnamon and sandalwood of his cologne.

Not only is he sinfully attractive, but he smells heavenly too?

"Yes," you breathed and let Fred effortlessly walk across the meadow with you in his arms. They brought this new, odd, yet familiar sense of security, and you allowed your head to rest against his chest, nervous gaze wandering off into the distance in hopes of not meeting his. Nevertheless, curiosity eventually took the best of you, and your eyes would occasionally flicker to his, which were now completely black under the night sky. They could swallow you whole, you swore.

Minutes later, you found yourselves in the company of old, enormous willows which surrounded the pond you so vividly remembered from your teenage years. You thanked Fred as he carefully let you down, and took a few steps forward to look around and drench in the misty moonlight that enveloped the area. The waters were crystal clear and completely still, reflecting the moon and its majestic silver glow. The bushes had grown significantly over the time you were away, and you fondly looked back at the moments when you would pick up colorful wildflowers in the summer before your fourth year.

"Shall we sit?" Fred asked quietly from right behind your shoulder, and you followed him with a nod. You found a comfortable spot on the fresh grass to sit, a few feet away from where the water met the soil and moved back and forth ever so slightly.

"It's more beautiful than I remember," you noted, lips curled up in a barely visible smile. Fred hummed in agreement.

"That's why I always make sure to come here every chance I get when I return. But, unfortunately, that's very rare in my case."

For a moment, there was only the chirping of crickets and the soft bubbling of water.

Fred turned to you.

"Remember when mum used to call for us to de-gnome the garden and we'd hide here? We could stay in the bushes for hours before we eventually came back," he recalled, seeming deep in thought. It was an extraordinary sight; for once the playful spark in his eyes was more mellow, there was no cockiness seeping into the way he was holding himself. He was just Fred, the man who was currently thinking with so much adoration and love about his childhood, the most significant memories of it being marked by you.

You wondered, given you ever had the chance to spend with Fred as much time as your older brother did, if the charismatic prankster would have fallen for you like you had done. You wondered, given the chance you had let Fred get to know you better all those summers ago, if his heart would have belonged to you by now just like yours did to him.

Had you possibly missed your chance?

"Oh, I do," you sighed, the tension in your chest vanishing as warm nostalgia crept in like an old friend. "I also remember when I got this really bad nightmare that night. I was so terrified that you took me on a ride with your broom in the middle of the night to cheer me up."

"That's true! My parents don't know about it to this day," he replied smugly. "I can still hear you screaming like a lunatic."

You jokingly smacked his arm, "I was twelve!"

Fred's grin grew wider.

"Excuses…"

This only caused you to stare at him in disbelief and cross your arms, managing your most serious expression, but Fred was aware you were on the verge of failing to keep your stern facade. He squinted his eyes as a teasing attempt to provoke you, smile threatening to split his face in two.

"Alright then, that's enough about me," you announced, and Fred nodded in mock agreement as he studied your playful pretence. "If you're so much better than me, Mr Darcy, what else do you do aside from stealing ladies away?"

"Stealing their hearts," he said confidently, flashing you a seductive smirk, reserved only for special girls back in your Hogwarts days. You giggled, finding his antic utterly ridiculous, but you hated to admit that it still turned your blood into liquid fire. Fred apparently saw right through you, because when your eyes landed on his, they appeared completely dark once again, but, you suspected, for a reason other than the lack of light.

Your throat went dry, and you found it hard to swallow down the lump that cut your breath short.

He ran a hand through his ginger hair as he began to explain, "I'm kidding, you know. But to answer your question, George and I have been working on this potion that should be able to change the color of the eyes and hair. Fun for those who enjoy experimenting with their appearance, but it can also be useful to the Ministry. They're actually going to send a team of a couple of aurors to visit us next month so we can update them on our progress and negotiate the details."

"Wow! That's certainly exciting!"

"Is it? I mean, it probably is, but I've been having second thoughts lately if I'm being honest." He scratched the back of his neck, and you realised you had only witnessed him being anxious when it came to his greatest passion. "I'm afraid we might not be done on time, there's still plenty left to improve."

You put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, and said, "I'm sure you'll figure it all out eventually. Keep working as you normally do, try not to stress too much over the deadline, and even if things go wrong at some point, don't go too hard on yourself. It wouldn't take away any progress you've made so far."

Fred's body relaxed just a bit and he looked down at you. He couldn't deny the sense of serenity that he felt only when he was with you. Even as a careless young boy, he was able to pinpoint the way his midriff would clench every time you'd laugh at his jokes or ask him to play with you, without knowing what it all meant.

But now, as a grown man, he had a word to describe the bittersweet fire within.

"You know what?" He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "I could really benefit from having someone like you around to give me motivation."

"Motivation, huh?" you raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smile. Fred sneaked a hand around your waist and pulled you closer.

"Yes, motivation."

"Motivation for what?"

"Marketing strategies, work projects…" he shrugged nonchalantly, "...among other things."

You quickly caught on, suddenly becoming way too self-aware of the way you were practically cuddled into Fred's side, hand resting on his shoulder while his were wrapped around your waist. But his shining confidence seemed to rub off on you, because you asked.

"What's with you offering me a job all of a sudden?"

His bottom lip was tucked between his teeth as he took his sweet time devouring you with his darkened gaze. You didn't know whether you wanted to hide from it, or expose yourself even further to the way it burned its way straight to your core.

"Well…" Fred dragged out in his low, hoarse voice, and caressed your cheek with his thumb before slipping it under your chin to guide it towards his face. You could nearly taste the remaining flavour of champagne on his lips. "I've certainly been feeling…"

Fred went quiet as he got lost in the way you fit so perfectly in his arms; you had always meant to be there, he realised. His mouth crashed into yours, hands tightly gripping your waist, and you let out a gasp. Fred's lips were soft, although slightly chapped, and they moved gently but firmly against yours, turning you into their slave. Your palms naturally slid up his chest and he closed any remaining distance between your bodies by placing you to straddle his lap. The kiss was a dance of pushing forward and pulling back, two lovers having finally found their rhythm after years of living in fearful desire. You were positively drunk on his taste, on him, and you wished to never become sober.

When your need for air overcame the one for physical contact, you pulled away. Your chests were heaving with rapid, shallow breaths, hearts beating in synch like they had always done. You let a finger tenderly trace his cheekbone down to his jawline, then it came back up to draw different affectionate patterns on his face.

"What were you saying?" you asked, clearly out of breath. "How were you feeling?"

He fondly took your hand that was caressing his skin, and lifted it up to press feather-light kisses on your knuckles. His lips retraced their path until they reached the tips of your fingers, and he kissed those with the gentlest of touch.

You heart ached pleasurably from the way he was handling you with such care, much more than you ever believed he was capable of.

After minutes of worshipping you by the moonlit lake, Fred looked back at you as though you were his entire world. And replied with a smile.

"Inspired."

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Masterlist

[wistfulrat]

this week’s fics! feat. bakeries, bookshops, bisexual awakenings of the angsty and fluffy sort, wolfstar goddads being tender as hell, desi harry reconnecting with his culture, domestic drarry, a lap dance set to akon’s smack that, and more!

But That’s History by @ebbet - 54k - T Harry Potter starts his first year as Muggle Studies Professor only to find that Draco Malfoy has been hired to teach History of Magic.

listen to me. this is one of the funniest drarry fics i've ever read. i was cackling in my bed at 2am because harry’s internal monologues throughout this fic are unhinged. insanely quotable. “what was he, a lothario” and “you were crushing me with your muscular thighs!” are lines that live rent free in my empty head. harry has never played anything cool a day in his life. there’s a faculty meeting where the teachers are planning the yule ball and debating the merits of a DJ when harry decides he must defend his muggle-music-loving honor by dancing seductively to akon’s smack that while a blushing draco loses his mind. i fucking screamed. and the best part is that in between the comedic scenes threading the overall story, you have extremely tender moments of like, padma patil helping harry become a more rooted desi by sharing their cultural traditions, harry proudly donning his sherwani. draco wrestling with his past, going to harry’s lgbtq+ club for students, being sheepish with ron and hermione. ugh, comedic writers with emotional depth are clever and talented as hell!!

Realities, Unfurling by @ebbet - 45k - M Draco Malfoy is released from Azkaban into a changed world.

incredible collage-fic told from multiple povs. 8yrs post-war and everything’s changed. the current state of the magical world unfolds via slice-of-life snapshots from a truly stunning cast. non-binary harry whom is running a non-prof org dedicated to building tolerance and establishing equality for marginalized identities. post-prison-release draco whose life will be changed by the internet. neville’s tender relationship with blaise. andromeda’s fiercely protective mothering. remus and sirius being alive and very hot and just, the tender goddads harry deserved. cho chang being brilliant. baker pansy’s softened edges. found families abound. harry being flustered by their crush on draco and making personalized playlists on an iPod nano.

that all might sound narratively cluttered but the author more than pulls this off. glorious, start to finish.

Knead by @jovialobservationanchor (an @hd-erised​ fic) - 83k - E This is not a story about Harry renovating Grimmauld Place. This is a story about coffee shops and brewpubs, about Ginny and Luna on a farm with creatures, about magical Oregon, coastal road trips, flying, friendship, and Draco Malfoy's lean arms.

cinematic. a love letter to oregon’s expansive landscapes and lively cities. it’s harry finding home in unexpected places and people. in the vast silence of rolling fields, endless coasts, and starry night skies big enough to feel like you’re adrift in space. and it’s also the lingering, intimate quiet of early mornings in a bakery, sitting on a park bench overlooking the city as you eat ice cream next to your crush. it’s harry watching ginny and luna dance and work around each other like bees. it’s the slow unfolding of harry and draco’s relationship as they fill each other’s quiet. finishing this fic is like waking from a good dream. transporting, immersive, lovely. 

Harry Potter and the Bisexual Awakening by @writcraft - 20k - E Harry is perfectly content being single, heterosexual and living in Godric's Hollow with his very clingy rescue dog, Snitch. When Draco Malfoy turns up on Harry's doorstep demanding that Harry teach him how to drive, things quickly become a lot more complicated.

first of all, i feel very seen by draco being a gay-who-can’t-drive. it’s called representation. but mostly i love the ease of harry and draco’s banter, a flustered harry discovering his sexuality, and the way this fic addresses biphobia. also very emo over this exchange: “I think I might be scared of you, but probably not for the reasons you think.” “Yes.” Draco stares at Harry. “I think I might be scared of you too.”

Forged through flowing water by @tedahfromtayla (an @hd-erised​ fic) - 40k - E When Hermione sets up a diplomatic mission to begin repairing the damage British colonisation did to Indian magical communities Harry isn’t going to pass on the opportunity to visit and help his family’s home country. Maybe he should have asked a few more questions about the personnel she had recruited for it before signing on because Malfoy surely has an ulterior motive to be there.

so much to love about this fic. the beautiful settings, from kolkata to mumbai, to the holi festival and colorful lively streets, to remote cave settlements and old intricate temples. it’s harry in the homeland, reconnecting to his family’s heritage and confronting the weight of imperialism in his history. it’s nipping the white savior complex in the bud. this part: That is what England left behind. That is what it still stands for, despite whatever mask of respectability and honour it presents. . .You don't get to step aside and let someone else deal with the mess. You have to listen and learn and then act, Malfoy, you need to learn how to fix your own mess. This is why we're here. my indigenous ass cheered. HP certainly sells the british fantasy but HP fanfic?? fuck jkr, fuck the crown. i love that this fic doesn’t romanticize england’s history. i love that we get to see the vast resilience and beauty of post-colonial india.

Purity Control by yrfrndfrnkly - 28k - T In which Harry tries to ignore his trauma with fantasy Quidditch but Malfoy's Thereness™ is distracting and all his classmates want to talk about are unicorns, virginity, and Muggle music.

tender 8th year fics where they go from bristly as fuck to understanding and soft 100% guaranteed to make me emo as hell. all the teens have traumas and no one wants to talk about it but eventually Things are Talked About. it’s good of the adults to finally notice. everyone just wants someone to hold their hand. and this part: “You’re the only person around here who’s a bigger mess than I am.” “I thought maybe we could be a mess together,” pls don’t look at me as i weep over their gentle empathy.

Advent, a comic by dustmouth - WIP - T It's Harry and Draco's first Christmas together and Draco is determined to live his full yuletide fantasy, come hell or high water.

dustmouth, patron saint of whimsical drarry. whose illustrations singlehandedly reinvented wizarding fashion. whose cheeky and tender comics are like a soothing balm to the utter depravity of this carnal world. harry and draco being domestic, draco’s xmas spirit brand being “traditional unhinged”!! extremely my shit. we’ll absolutely be reading this all december.

Little Spaces by @dracoladon and @lazywonderlvnd​ - WIP - E Draco's back from France and working on the spell damage ward at St Mungo's with Hermione, who invites him over for dinner. Without telling Harry. This is a roleplay, which means Harry is written by one author (lazywonderland) and Draco by another (dracoladon).

the switch in distinct character voices works so well for this fic!! tonally i feel like i'm watching an episode of the office. i personally love harry and draco being Pissed Off at how much they want to bone each other. the battle of the tapenade was the most riveting dinner scene i've read in a minute. clever, hilarious, emotionally tense. can’t wait until that inevitable moment post hate-sex when they’re gonna be like “oh noooo it’s a Heart Boner as well!! >:((” hell ya we’re subscribing for chapter updates.

Dragons Don’t Know Paradise by @teacup-tai​ - WIP - E In 2004, when Remus spends two scary weeks in the ITU due to complications of pneumonia and his HIV condition, Sirius walks around the house like a ghost and Harry finds comfort and strength in Draco through a chat in an online LGBT forum. Harry falls for him, but Draco has a lot of secrets and, before long, will need to come clean—even if he believes that no one is able to understand a dragon.

non-magical bookshop AU. remus and sirius’ relationship is a marvel. the ease of their affection with harry makes me so emo. draco’s friends being insistently present even as he tries to isolate himself. this is a story about acceptance, found families, and falling in love at a distance. the intimacy, the longing, the tenderness. what a fic!! i keep coming back to this part:...he looks at ease, inside his body, a body he needed to fight for. He’d made peace with his struggles and his scars. And Draco realises he wants that. He wants to be at ease inside his body, the body that now carries a virus. He wants to be at peace with his own existence. you hurt for draco so deeply but you get moments like these where he affords himself a kindness that feels foreign and it’s just!! the boys navigating grief and learning to be vulnerable. so good.

[oh-for-merlins-sake]

TRICK & TREAT | fw

a/n: okay, so i KNOW we’re not exactly in october yet, but spooky season is my FAVORITE season, and i couldn’t resist. if i could have an interminable spooky season every year, my heart would sing tbh. also, side note: thank you to those who have interacted with my previous fic, or who have followed me, or who have showed me any ounce of love at all. like, i’m just hear to party and obsess over the weasley twins in the midst of all of these stellar writers. i just hope to be up to par with them someday. CHEERS! xo

pairing: fred weasley x reader (fem!reader)

word count: 3k

warnings: swearing (fred’s a potty mouth, yeah?), gets a little steamy at the end but nothing heart-stopping.

┈┈┈┈

You looked up from your dreadfully long piece of parchment in the library to gaze longingly out of a nearby window. The leaves were finally an amalgamation of bright reds and oranges, and you could almost feel the autumn breeze on your fingertips. Fall was your favorite season, and not just cause it hosted your favorite holiday.

This year, however, Snape decided that he was in no such mood for the Halloween spirit. As a result, an exceptionally long essay on potion making was due bright and early Monday morning, despite the holiday falling on Saturday — today.

You rubbed your eyes, blinking a few times to keep yourself awake, then resumed frantically scribbling on your parchment.

“And how long have you been at this, may I ask?”

You didn’t have to divert your gaze from the parchment to know exactly who was striding toward your table.

“In the middle of something, Freddie,” you mumbled.

“What, that dreadful essay for Snape?” He asked, sliding into the seat across from you.

“Yes,” you sighed, twirling your quill between your aching fingers.

“Oh, come off it — don’t let Snape ruin your Halloween. Put the quill down, and let’s get going,” he insisted, reaching for your quill.

You retracted your hand, raising your brows at him in response. “As if! I can’t fuck around, Fred. This is N.E.W.T. level Potions. He’ll toss me if I hand in anything less than exemplary.”

“The way I see it, Y/N,” he began, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet on the table, “The only reason Snape assigned this essay this weekend is because he’s a proper miserable prat. Just wants to ruin the fun for everyone, I reckon.”

You rolled your eyes, partially at Fred’s persistence, but also at Snape’s total arrogance.

“I propose that you put the quill down and come to the festival! C’mon, assigning an essay on Halloween weekend? Bloody mad, he is!”

You sighed again, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and weighing your options.

On the one hand, you needed to do well on this essay (not that you hadn’t been doing well in Snape’s class, but given that it was Snape, one minor error could be one too many).

But on the other hand, you’d probably plucked and polished as much cluttered information from your brain as you could; and there Fred sat, beckoning you with that cheeky grin and those sweet, brown eyes to go to the Hallowe’en Festival in Hogsmeade.

“I don’t have a costume,” you said with a frown.

“Not to worry, love!”

Fred lugged his book bag onto the table with a mischievous grin, rummaging around inside and extracting various crumpled pieces of parchment, empty sweet wrappers, and the occasional contraption. Finally, he chucked a muggle entertainment magazine onto the table that was dated 1989 and began flipping through its pages.

“Dad’s latest obsession are these muggle magazines, and I found this in one of them...”

He eagerly pointed to a spread that celebrated the 50th anniversary of The Wizard of Oz. You let out a rather loud laugh (to which Madam Pince responded by shushing you both).

“What?” He whispered, giggling and playfully shoving your arm.

“You want to go as characters from The Wizard of Oz?” You shook your head, smiling sweetly.

“So you’re familiar?” He beamed at you.

“Yes, Fred, as a muggle born, I’m quite familiar with one of the most famous muggle movies of all time,” you teased.

“So you’ll go as her then?” He asked, pointing to Dorothy.

“Me? Go as her?” You asked incredulously. “I don’t have anything that would work for that costume. And I’m not so sure that anyone would recognize me without — ”

“The rest of them? Don’t worry, love, thought of that too!”

“You just think of everything, don’t you?” You quipped, narrowing your eyes.

“You’re a fucking witch, Y/N. I’m sure you’ll conjure something up,” he reminded.

You opened your mouth to counter, but he swiftly interrupted, "And if you’re concerned with anyone recognizing you, well... you’re looking at none other than Scarecrow himself.” He straightened up and tugged at his collar, wiggling his eyebrows.

You laughed again. (“Shh!”)

Fred lowered his voice, “Listen, Georgie’s gonna be the Tin Man, and Gin’s borrowing Luna’s lion’s head for the other one,” he explained. “All we’re missing is Dorothy.”

“Oh, I see,” you said, returning to your parchment with a smirk, “You just need me to complete your costume, ay?”

Suddenly, Fred plucked his wand to summon your quill from your hand to his.

“Come to the Hallowe’en festival with me, Y/N,” he insisted, tossing your dainty quill from one immense hand to the other.

You paused, glaring at him, for he knew exactly the effect he had on you.

“Fine!”

Fred punched the air in celebration before tucking your quill behind his ear and moseying out of the library.

“You’ve got two hours, Y/L/N,” he called over his shoulder.

The instant he turned the corner, you stuffed your parchment into your bag and scampered towards your dormitory. Butterflies erupted in the pits of your stomach as you pondered the possibilities of the night to come, and you felt a slow burning warmth trickle from your cheeks to the tips of your toes.

Yes, you were relieved to elude Snape’s brutal homework for the night, but deeper within you resided the covert, overwhelming desire that drove your final decision to go. After a wearisome couple of hours brimful of several twirls in front of the mirror, you ultimately decided your haphazard costume would have to do.

You’d managed to procure a white dress and pair of heels from your wardrobe, enchanting the former to mock the pattern of Dorothy’s dress and the latter to radiate a shimmering ruby red. You straightened out the hem of your dress before skipping out into the entrance hall in search of Fred.

You weaved between clusters of costumed students, noting several muggle characters along the way, including an Ariel, a Marty McFly, and even a Ghostbuster. You spotted a straw-hat poking out from above the crowd and rushed over.

“Well, good evening, Mr. Scarecrow!” You exclaimed, tapping his shoulder.

He spun around. “Bloody hell, it’s Dorothy!”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his costume, particularly the bright orange dot carefully painted on the tip of his nose. You appreciated the fact that faux freckles weren’t necessary for his costume, as his sweet speckles did the trick just fine. You were also fairly amused by George’s dingy, silver hat and Ginny’s small head being consumed by Luna’s lion contraption.

“Putting Dorothy to shame, I reckon,” Fred declared, winking down at you.

You were embarrassed at how quickly your cheeks turned color at the compliment.

The four of you nearly sprinted to Hogsmeade, bubbling over with excitement. All of Hogwarts had been feverishly babbling about the Hallowe’en Festival for weeks now, mostly because it served as an excuse to flee Umbridge’s reign of terror. When the announcement came that the shopkeepers of Hogsmeade would be hosting a festival for the students, everyone let out a collective sigh of relief that there was something outside of these walls that would provide a sense of warmth and security that had been missing as of late. It was refreshing, to say the least.

And hell, if it gave you an excuse to spend time with Fred, you surely weren’t complaining.

“Holy shit, Y/N!” Fred exclaimed, vigorously rocking you back and forth, “Bobbing for apples!”

You giggled and bounced along as he tugged you by the hand toward the festivities. George and Ginny followed suit, trailing behind with just enough space behind you and Fred.

Without hesitation, Fred sunk his head into a bucket of water in search of an apple and surprisingly succeeded on his first attempt. He resurfaced, teeth clenched around a scarlet apple, and winked at you before spitting it into his palm. You giggled at the orange paint on his nose; now smeared from the charade.

“Your turn,” he urged, taking a hearty bite from his reward.

Though you weren’t as quick at retrieving one as Fred had been, you eventually managed to reap a bright green apple from the pail. You kept the apple nicely snug between your teeth as you shook the water from your face with a laugh. You held the apple in your palm, turning it over in the moonlight, before taking a bite to indulge in its sweet and sour flavors.

Fred gently pushed back the wisps of hair that were now plastered to your forehead. You swallowed your bite and your staggering desire to taste him too.

“Shall we retrieve some sweets from Honeydukes, Freddie?” You blurted.

“‘Course,” He breathed, hand lingering on your forehead.

You quickly tossed the remnants of your apple in a nearby bin before skipping towards Honeydukes.  Fred scampered behind you, laughing at the way you kept balance in your heels.

“Quit laughing at me, Weasley!” You exclaimed, arms shot out on either side of you.

Fred caught up to you and clutched your waist, murmuring, “You can hold me for balance anytime, love.”

Your heart pounded as his fingers tightened their grip before dismissing the feeling with an eye roll and a playful slap to his chest.

The two of you approached Honeydukes, which was festively adorned with strings of misty orange lights and floating jack-o-lanterns. The shopkeeper was tossing free sweets for the taking, and while Fred was able to score some with ease due to his looming height, you had to jump just to try — even in your high heels.

Fred couldn’t help but grin as you grasped at nothing, clinging to his shoulder for balance.

“What are you reaching for, love?” He asked, gently bumping his hip into yours.

“I’m just — ” You hopped again. “Trying — to get — a bloody Sugar Quill!”

Within seconds, Fred effortlessly seized a Sugar Quill and tossed it down to you. You thanked him, beaming up at him as you ripped it open.

He proceeded to catch a few more sweets, including some Chocolate Cauldrons, Pumpkin Pasties, and enough Sugar Quills to tide you over until next Halloween. You both walked aimlessly through Hogsmeade, munching on your sweets and speculating on the whereabouts of the rest of your group. You’d both decided that you’d find them later before plopping down onto a bench to finish off the last of your goodies.

Full of sugar and glee, you almost didn’t notice that Fred’s thigh was in contact with yours — the realization knocking your breath off of its steady course.

You fiddled with a wrapper as you genuinely considered trailing your fingers across his chest and pressing your lips to his under the light of jack-o-lanterns and the smell of cinnamon. You genuinely considered sending him spiraling into oblivion, just as he’d done to you at nearly every interaction. Oh, to make him go weak in the knees for once.

“Fred — ”

Suddenly, a gaggle of first-years scrambled by as Malfoy and his minions hounded them for sweets. You both snapped your heads in their direction, perturbed by the disruption.

“What do you say we put the ‘trick’ in trick-or-treat?” Fred asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

So close.

After some deliberation of the proper way to exact justice, you and Fred decided to convince some first-years to toss a few Nosebleed Nougats into their bags of sweets. You made certain that they would not touch the Nougats themselves, but that they would instead offer them up to Malfoy when he came hunting for more.

You hurried back over to Fred, who was hiding behind a shop corner, and observed the hysterical events that transpired together. You stifled your laughter as Malfoy yanked the Nougats out of the sack and split them between himself and his mates. The first years scurried away, thankful to have evaded surrendering their sweets, as the prats chewed into their Nougats.

They tossed their wrappers onto the cobblestone and scouted the area for their next victims. They were abruptly interrupted by the blood gushing out of their noses, causing you and Fred to rush into Three Broomsticks in a fit of laughter. You peered out of the window and watched as Malfoy and his mates darted towards the castle, fists pressed against their noses.

“I can’t believe we got away with that,” you admitted breathlessly.

Fred high-fived you, hand squeezing yours, as he tried to catch his breath. He led you to an empty table near the fireplace before wandering off to obtain a couple of warm Butterbeers. You sat down and rubbed your hands together, feeling the cold slowly easing from your fingertips.

“You know what’s always bugged me,” Fred began, sliding your mug across the table and removing his hat.

“Hm?” You hummed, taking a sip.

He sat down and clutched his warm mug. “Why does it have to be trick or treat? Why not both? I mean, everyone loves a good trick, and everyone loves a good treat. I’ve never understood that!”

You laughed, wiping the foam of your drink from your mouth. “You know, Freddie, you make an awfully good point! From now on, you’ll only ever hear me say ‘trick and treat’!”

“Cheers!” He laughed, clinking his mug with yours.

The two of you chatted away in Three Broomsticks for what felt like an eternity. As time passed, folks rolled in and out of the pub, and eventually you found the rest of your party. George and Ginny, along with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, joined you for some time before deciding they’d had enough festivities for one evening.

As they gathered their things and emptied their mugs, George turned to the two of you and asked, “You two coming along?”

Suddenly, Ginny grabbed George’s arm, forcefully turning him towards the door as she sang over her shoulder, “Goodnight!”

Fred chuckled, taking a swig from his drink, as you fought to suppress the cursed blush that continuously resurfaced on your burning cheeks.

Time continued ticking away as the two of you resumed conversation. It felt natural to sit with Fred, tossing back Butterbeers, bringing each other to tears from laughter, and poking and prodding at the recesses of your minds; Madam Rosmerta was less fond of it, however.

“I’m sure it’s well past your bedtime, lovebirds — out,” she declared.

The two of you gathered your belongings and giggled as you wandered back out into the streets. You caught a glimpse of the time and exclaimed, “Blimey, it’s eleven o’clock! We’ll have to sneak back into the castle at this point!”

“I know a way back,” Fred said with a smirk.

He led you by the hand to a secret passageway tucked in an alley where he assured you it was a safe escape to Hogwarts. You had your doubts about the secrecy of this tunnel, feeling uneasy at the thought of Filch ensnaring you after-hours; but Fred insisted. And if it meant prolonging your evening with Fred, then you had no choice but to follow.

As you crept down the tunnel towards Hogwarts by the guiding light of Fred’s wand, you gently bumped into his side, conspicuously brushing your hand against his. You normally wouldn’t feel so bold, but after the sheer volume of Butterbeer that you’d consumed, you felt particularly daring at the moment.

Fred grinned down at you and gently bumped you back. You stumbled a bit in a fit of giggles that Fred echoed as he snagged your hand in his.

“Easy there, Y/L/N, don’t want you tumbling down the tunnel!”

You took advantage of the opportunity to boldly intertwine your fingers with his. You rested your head on his arm and mumbled, “I’m tired, Freddie...”

“We’re almost there,” he said, fighting a grin and squeezing your hand.

The two of you continued walking for quite some time like this. The remainder of the walk was mostly silent — not because neither of you had anything to say, but mostly because you each had so much to say and ruminated on exactly how to say those things.

Your thoughts raced through your addled brain a million miles a minute, and as you approached the Hogwarts corridor, you cursed yourself for not saying something sooner.

“You fall asleep over there?” Fred chuckled, nudging your head softly with his arm.

You peered up at him lovingly before straightening up to face him. With your fingers still tightly wound around his, you whispered, “Freddie...”

“Y/N,” he playfully whispered back.

You giggled.

“That was a good trick we played earlier, don’t you think?” You asked, taking a step closer.

“One of my finest yet,” he replied, struggling to form full sentences given your proximity.

“And you know what they say...” You said.

“What do they say, Y/N?” He teased, using his free hand to tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Trick and treat... so how’s about a treat?”

Suddenly, you closed the space between the two of you and locked your lips with his. Your lips moved slowly together, almost in shock that this was actually happening. He released your hand in order to use both of his to hold the back of your head, and you stood on your tiptoes to deepen the kiss as you wrapped your hands around his neck.

When your lips parted, you almost whined at the separation.

“That was the best treat yet,” he said with a wink, running his hands down your waist and giving you a squeeze.

You bit your lip and led him down a quiet hallway. “I know I’m supposed to say something like, ‘There’s no place like home,’ but honestly...” you trailed off, stopping in front of a vacant classroom. “I’d much rather be in here.”

Fred’s eyes widened with hunger as you backed him into the classroom, kicking the door shut behind you.

Fred lifted you onto a nearby desk and sighed, “I love Halloween.”

[be11atrixthestrange]

Waking Up In Vegas: Chapter 4

After a night of debauchery, Ron and Hermione wake up in Vegas... married.

Muggle!AU. Romcom!Romione. Slow burning, smutty, angst-fest.

Rated M for reasons.

Ao3 | FFN

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More Chapters

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Chapter 4

[Hermione]

Hermione breathes a sigh of relief when she enters her hotel room, and the door shuts behind her. She pulls off the Chudley Cannons t-shirt and boxers, throwing them into a pile on the floor by her suitcase, before making her way to the bathroom for a shower.

Her suite's bathroom is an assault of color, too happy and cheerful to match her sullen mood. The tiles form an elaborate design which Hermione guesses is supposed to be a mermaid, but who knows, really. She stopped trying to identify any cohesive theme to the hotel's elaborate decor the moment she arrived.

As she scrubs herself clean, she can't help but wonder about last night. Did they really have sex? If they had, it would be a first for her. She's had sex before, of course, but only within the boundaries of a committed relationship. Never a one-night-stand, if that's what that was.

The idea that she and Ron Weasley might have shagged last night doesn't bother her in the way she'd expect — in fact, there's a small, but very present part of her that hopes they did. Hermione's only slept with one other man before, and her anxiety surfaces every time she imagines having sex with someone else — someone who might see her differently than her ex-boyfriend Viktor. She often wonders if there's anyone else out there that finds her attractive enough, and hates to admit that insecurity led her to stay with Viktor much longer than she really should have. It's that same fear that makes the thought of taking her clothes off in front of another man so daunting. She's often tempted to numb her worries with alcohol, and get it over with. Maybe last night she did.

Hermione glances down at her body and tries to keep her insecurities at bay, but she can't. She's never been one to concern herself with cosmetic endeavors, not like Lavender, who is always talking about tanning lotion and bikini waxes. She wonders what parts of her Ron had seen and touched, and oddly, she's desperate to know if he liked it.

She's imagined sleeping with Ron before. Not intentionally, of course. It's just a passing thought that occurs with any single, attractive, age-appropriate man, but for some reason, it happens more frequently with Ron. Neville, Dean, and Seamus, Harry's other groomsmen, are all just as attractive, but she isn't nearly as curious to know what it would be like to shag them. Maybe it's the way that Ron bickers with her and irritates her — there's something so focused about it. It's like he knows exactly how to push her buttons. Her need to learn more about him in bed must be purely academic — if he can drive her mind crazy, what might he be able to do to her body?

It's tempting to reprimand herself like she might a friend after a one-night-stand, but she doesn't feel guilty. If there's any reason to be angry with herself, it's not because she slept with Ron; it's because she can't remember it, and she really, really, wants to. For science, of course.

Unable to avoid the day any longer, she turns the shower off and reaches for her towel to dry herself. Any guilt she feels is mostly about ditching Ginny last night. This week is for Ginny, and as her maid of honor, Hermione has a duty not to abandon her to rendezvous with her brother.

She wraps her towel tightly around her body and heads back into the bedroom. The bathroom's aggressive color scheme continues into the rest of the suite, but the mermaid tiles are now replaced with lime-green area rugs, lava lamps, and an ombre accent wall that fades from white to teal. The whole ordeal feels both retro and modern, like she's entering both the past and future at the same time. While rummaging in her suitcase, she finds her phone, blinking with dozens of missed messages from Ginny. Scrolling through the messages tells her that Ginny was really worried about her last night.

Where did you go?

Are you ok?

Are you with someone?

Please text me back, I'm worried!

The phone buzzes and startles Hermione. She glances down to see Ginny's name again, this time accompanied by a new message.

Don't forget about brunch! You owe me a mimosa and an explanation! 11 am :)

Okay, Ginny doesn't sound too angry. Hermione checks the clock and groans. 10:55 am.

She extracts a clean change of clothes from her bag, which happens to be a periwinkle sundress that Ginny convinced her to buy for the trip. It's a little shorter and more revealing than Hermione would typically choose, but seeing her in it might make Ginny feel more sympathetic. Plus, if she shows up looking perfectly put-together, she might have a chance at convincing the girls that she did not get blackout drunk and shag Ron Weasley last night. Still, she imagines showing up to brunch in Ron's boxers and Chudley Cannons t-shirt, and the picture brings a smile to her lips. Of course, she'd never do that, but the look on Lavender's face might be worth it.

Hermione sends Ginny a quick text to tell her she's on her way and pulls the sundress over her head. She then stations herself in front of the bathroom mirror to work on both her hair and an alibi.

x

One step into the god-knows-what-themed restaurant gives Hermione an instant headache. The music, the conversation, and the smell of breakfast food and alcohol instantly remind her of her hangover. She passes the giant, decorative goblet in the middle of the room and spots Ginny's red hair, standing out against the forest-green wall paint behind her. Ginny sees her too, and waves her down.

"Hermione Jean Granger!" says Ginny as soon as Hermione sits down at the creaky bamboo chair across from her. Also at the table are Luna, Demelza, and Lavender, who eyes Hermione's dress suspiciously. "Dish!"

Ginny's already halfway through her first mimosa and is smiling brightly. Hermione instantly relaxes at her demeanor, her guilt melting away. "Dish? About what?"

"Where you ran off to last night, of course!"

"Ginny thinks you shagged someone, but I think you just went back to bed," says Lavender, and Hermione is briefly tempted to wipe the smug smile off her face with the truth, but she resists.

"What does everyone else think?" asks Hermione. Maybe they'll come up with a better alibi than she has.

"We took bets. I think you ran off and shagged a stranger, because I know there's a rebel in there somewhere," says Ginny, waving a lazy finger toward her face. "Lavender thinks you just went to bed early like a party-pooper. Luna thinks you got lost. And Demelza thinks you disappeared with Ron."

"What?" says Hermione, glancing curiously at Demelza, "Ron?"

"Yeah," shrugs Demelza. "It would make sense."

"Would it?"

"Not like that," chuckles Lavender, rolling her eyes. "It would make sense because he's the best man. Demelza thinks you two are planning something for Ginny and Harry, and that's why you two disappeared. We can't figure out where he went either, but Harry's working on finding out," she adds bitterly.

"Oh," says Hermione, breathing a sigh of relief. "I thought you meant—"

"We didn't," laughs Demelza.

"Definitely not," says Lavender cooly. "You're not his type, anyway."

Hermione turns away from Lavender, ignoring the prickle of insecurity ignited by her comment. "Well, not to let you all down, but I had too much to drink last night, so I just went back to my hotel room early. I meant to send a text, but I passed out pretty quickly."

"Knew it," says Lavender.

"As for Ron," she adds, turning back to face Lavender, "I did run into him. He was with a girl, but I don't know who she was. Super pretty, though." Hermione can't help but enjoy the flash of jealousy on Lavender's face.

Lavender meets her eyes with a scowl before dropping her gaze to Hermione's exposed legs. "Nice dress. Who's it for?"

"Sorry? Who's it for?"

"Your dress is awfully short," she adds matter-of-factly, taking a strategic sip of her mimosa.

"Oh, well," Hermione shrugs. "It's warm out."

"Well, you look very attractive. Almost like you're trying to impress someone." Lavender's cheery tone juxtaposes her icy stare. If only there was a prize for backhanded compliments, Lavender could finally consider herself a winner.

"I just like this dress," says Hermione through gritted teeth. "Who would I be trying to impress?" The table has gone awkwardly quiet, the air suddenly thick with tension.

Lavender shrugs. "Nobody. Wouldn't be worth your time," she says, bringing her mimosa back to her dolled-up lips.

Hermione rolls her eyes. Lavender doesn't seem to like Hermione, and Hermione cannot figure out why. It might have something to do with how often she and Ron talk to one another. Lavender has a habit of inserting herself into their little arguments and trying to redirect Ron's attention as if she's trying to save him from Hermione's incessant pestering. Maybe she means well, but Hermione finds it condescending.

They only ever talk about wedding logistics — It's not like they flirt. As far as Hermione knows, Lavender has nothing to be jealous of. Either way, Hermione doesn't have time to mull it over because Luna breaks the tension. "Are you sure you didn't get lost?"

"Sorry, what?" asks Hermione, having already forgotten the previous conversation.

"Last night," clarifies Luna. "You weren't lost?"

Oh. "No Luna, I wasn't lost. Why?"

Luna shrugs. "I just checked your room before I went to bed. You weren't there."

Hermione feels Lavender's piercing stare once more and tries to send a quieting glance to Luna, but Luna remains oblivious. "Are you sure you didn't get lost?" Hermione retorts. All the girls, except for Lavender, laugh.

Luna smiles wistfully. "Maybe I had the wrong room."

"Probably," says Hermione firmly, then in an attempt to change the subject, "Another round of mimosas?"

Ginny's beams. "Sure! But this round's on you!"

"Sounds good," says Hermione, rising to her feet. "I'll be right back."

It's probably in her best interest to keep the drinks flowing.

x

Hermione is waiting at the bar for another round of mimosas, tracing the playing cards ingrained into the counter with her finger, and mulling over her conversation with the girls. Something feels very off with Lavender, and she wonders if she suspects anything. Hermione glances down at her dress; it is awfully short. She tugs self-consciously at the hem. Lavender doesn't think she's wearing this dress to impress Ron, does she?

Sure, she wore this dress the day they arrived in Vegas, and at one point, she noticed Ron's gaze drifting from her face to her chest then to her thigh. Normally, she'd react by calling a man out on that, but with Ron, she said nothing. It was such a fleeting glance, probably because Lavender was watching, and he might not have wanted to offend her. But she also liked it. Something about his eyes on her body made her feel sexy, and it's been a while since she's felt that way. The memory of Ron's wandering eyes and how they made her feel might have been part of her motivation to wear the dress this morning. A small part, but a contributing factor nonetheless. Maybe Lavender can sense that. She seems to detect any possible interest in Ron like a bloodhound, and clearly, she still thinks Ron is her man.

A sudden voice startles her out of her reverie.

"Hey! Good to see you again!"

Hermione turns to see a woman about her age. She doesn't recognize her at all. "Hey," she says tentatively.

The woman is wearing a green jumpsuit that almost camouflages her into the restaurant's decor. Her bright pink manicure reminds Hermione of claws, and her large gold spectacles magnify her eyes, giving her the appearance of an insect. She looks like she's intentionally trying to dress as an animal, but hasn't decided which one.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

Did Hermione meet this woman last night? "I'm okay. Doing better," she adds, hoping her tone is neutral enough to be non-committal.

"Okay, that's good to hear! We had so much fun last night, by the way!"

Hermione is more confused than ever, but she feels like her opportunity to admit that has passed. "Thank you," she says instead. "I… did too. I think."

The woman laughs, an almost-maniacal cackling sound that makes Hermione shudder. "Honestly, I'm so honored that you included me. I know we just met last night, but I already feel like I've known you two forever!"

Okay, what the hell is happening?

"Oh, of course, I feel that way too!" she lies. Hermione needs to find a way to end this conversation.

"I'm glad I found you! I tried to send you this photo, but I realized this morning that I didn't have your number." She pulls her phone out of her pocket and scrolls through her camera roll. Hermione curiously looks over her shoulder, hoping that maybe this photo will spark her memory of last night. "Here it is!"

The woman shoves the phone into Hermione's face, and Hermione's jaw drops.

"I know! It's so cute, isn't it?"

It feels like her heart has stopped. She's looking at a photo of Ron holding her up, one hand is under her knees, and the other supporting her back. Hermione's arms are laced around Ron's neck, and their lips are pressed together in a passionate kiss. Above them is a sign that reads Just Married.

"That's definitely one you should get framed!" says the woman excitedly.

Hermione tries to steady her breath, but she feels about to panic. This has to be some sort of joke. "Yes, thank you," she says in the giddiest tone she can manage.

"Go ahead, send it to yourself!" says the woman.

"Right, right," says Hermione. A few clicks of the keypad later, Hemione feels her phone buzz again in her pocket. She hands the phone back to the woman.

"And now I have your number,'' she says! "We should definitely celebrate again. I will text you!"

"Yeah," says Hermione mechanically, although she knows it won't happen. "Of course."

"Congratulations again!" The woman hugs Hermione before sauntering away.

As soon as she disappears into the crowd, Hermione pulls out her phone to examine the photo. She recalls how horrified Ron was to wake up next to her and has no idea how she'll be able to have this conversation. She's tempted just to delete the photo, but she knows that won't make it go away.

Then, something jumps out at her. On the wall below the words Just Married are the words Follow your heart's desire! They're small and easy to miss, but it sounds like bad branding.

She switches her screen to search those words. A single click pulls up a website.

Erised Elopements

Follow your heart's desire!

Maybe there is a way to make it all go away.

She saves the address into her phone, right as the bartender pulls up with five mimosas. "Sorry about the wait!"

"No problem," says Hermione distractedly, pocketing her phone. She smiles and pays for the drinks before heading back to a restless table of girls.

"What took you so long?" asked Ginny.

Hermione shrugged, setting the drinks down on the table. "Busy, I guess."

"Are you ok, Hermione?" asks Luna.

"Yes, why?"

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine." Ginny looks at her with concern, and Hermione waves her off. "I'm great."

"Are you sure you haven't seen a ghost? This hotel is haunted, you know."

"No, Luna, I haven't seen a ghost." Just accidentally got married.

"Okay," says Ginny. "If you're feeling ill, just let us know. You can go back to your room and rest…"

"Actually, that might be a good idea," says Hermione quickly. "Are you sure you won't mind?"

"No, of course not," says Ginny, although Hermione can sense the disappointment in her voice.

"Sorry. I'll be ready to rally tonight, I promise." Hermione snags her purse and slings it over her shoulder. She slides her untouched mimosa across the table to Ginny. "An extra for you."

Ginny perks up and takes a sip. "Feel better, Hermione!"

"Thank you," says Hermione as she waves goodbye and turns to leave the hotel restaurant, still aware of Lavender's eyes on the hem of her dress. At first, she heads in the direction of her room. Then, checking over her shoulder to make sure the girls aren't watching, she pulls out her phone and searches the address from the website. She'll be able to fix this; she's sure of it.

[terrariumtypings]

Harry Potter Characters: How you meet them!

Harry Potter: You met Harry when you went with your parents to Diagon Alley to shop for school supplies. He was walking out of Ollivaders and he ran right into you. He apologized profusely but you told him it was alright.

Ron Weasley: You sat next to Ron in charms class second year. Unfortunately you were on the receiving end of the spells cast by his broken wand. Despite that, he grew on you.

Hermione Granger: You and Hermione went to the same primary school and you both received letters to Hogwarts. You recognized each other at the sorting ceremony.

Draco Malfoy: You two met before the sorting ceremony, he introduced himself to you, because he thought you were worthy to be his friend. After seeing how he treated Ron, you wanted nothing to do with him.

Fred Weasley: You were accidentally injured by one of George and his pranks. He felt awful! You weren't the intended target, so he walked you to Madam Pomfrey and tried to cheer you up on the way.

George Weasley: You were one of the beaters on your houses quidditch team. You hit him with a bludger, it came out of nowhere and you weren’t meaning to aim it at him. You visited him in the hospital wing everyday till he was fully healed.

Oliver Wood: You filled in as the commentator for Lee Jordan when he was unavailable. The first time he heard your voice he almost fell of his broom. Your voice was one of the few things to distract him from quidditch, which says a lot.

Dean Thomas : You were impressed with his artistic skills when you saw the "Potter for President" banner in your first year. You introduced yourself at dinner that night and complemented him.

Ginny Weasley: Your parents were good friends with Arthur and Molly. You and Ginny had been best friends for practically your entire lives.

Cedric Diggory: You and Cedric were paired up for a potions project. You didn't expect much out of him, but he surprisingly put in a lot of effort. He mostly did it to impress you though.

Cho Chang: You met Cho through your brother actually. He went on a date with her, but they just remained friends. She took a liking to you, and you became closer than they had.

Blaise Zabini: While walking out of History of Magic class 5th year Draco and his friends tripped you. Blaise actually felt really bad, and later he slipped a letter in one of your books apologizing for going a long with it.

Neville Longbottom: You offered to help Neville look for Trevor on the train ride to Hogwarts in first year. From then on, you were there when he needed a helping hand.

Luna Lovegood: You saw her sitting alone on the Hogwarts Express, and joined her. You asked about the Quibbler she was reading and she told you everything about her and her father’s work

A/N: If you have anymore ideas for preferences message me or comment!

[saveourskinship]

Thanks for the tag @thusatlas I’ve never done one of these. So

How many works do you have on AO3?

16 works, but if you count my collection of drabbles it is 42 (soon to be 61 once I finish updating my Ficlet Snack Pack.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

429863

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Harry Potter mostly, but when I was twelve I wrote Greek God fanfiction but it’s hard to tell what fanfic in that space. I mean, the masterpiece that is Lore Olympus isn’t exactly fanfic, right?

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1) Transit of Venus

2) Curse of Fascinus

3) Her Curious Valentine’s

4) Are There Still Beautiful Things

5) Always Being Let Go

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do! Even if it’s just to thank someone and wish them a lovely day. I think the only comments I haven’t responded to are ones like ‘huh?’ or ‘eh?’. I can’t do much with those.

In a very gross way, comments are like laxatives. If you want more shit out of me, shove comments down my throat. My motivation will jump from toodle-doo to PHWOAR if anyone knows or understands what that means.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

The Alternate Ending (Tragic) to Transit of Venus.

Transit of Venus was already pretty angsty, but the people wanted to see the most harrowing of the five endings I wrote. So I put on my patent-pending Sob Through Anything glasses (eucalyptus on the nose grip, moisture wicking on the glass) and edited a Romeo + Juliet- style ending.

Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

No, but I do write Easter Eggs. Though I do have a plunny to crossover Derry Girls with Harry Potter where the character of James is Harry being sent to Derry for his protection.

It is the only crossover I’ve ever dabbled in and the the couple pages I’ve written are utter madness so I don’t hold out hope I’ll ever publish it..

Oh, but do songfics count? Because then I have LOADS. Mostly Taylor Swift because folklore stole my soul.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes, my favourite was telling me the entire premise of Transit of Venus was stupid and I should have taken a leaf out of their country’s way of doing things to up population and given tracts of land to couples . Soo... colonialism with implications of people displacement and other more heinous consequences they found preferable to a soul spell.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do write smut. My favourite type of smut to write is romantic, sensual smut. I’m also very much looking forward to writing the smut for my crackfic.

I think my most favourite smut scene I’ve written though is in Her Curious Valentine’s where Theo reads really bad, gratuitous Dramione smut out loud in the company of both Draco and Hermione while they try and ignore him.

I laughed a lot writing that.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I honestly have no idea how I’d even check that. But probably not. I doubt anyone would want to take credit for anything I write.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but as an exercise to practice my Te Reo, I occasionally translate passages of my own.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Dramione. I ‘White Flag by Dido’ Dramione. I stan, simp, ship, fangirl and tresh Dramione. I refuse to feel guilt, only pleasure. Please don’t come for me Ronmione fans, I like Ron, okay? I’m just shit at writing him and just make him say, “Bloody hell!” all the time.

But also Theo with anyone, particularly Harry. Theo is my favourite character because he is almost 100% fanon. He epitomises the Harry Potter fanfic community for me so I have to love him forever and ever.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I’m writing a WIP called ‘The Madnesses of Men’ that details seven women’s relationships with the men in their life: The three Black sisters, Pansy, Luna, Ginny and Hermione. Each has a Seven Deadly Sin as the title of their chapter and each has a completely different writing style. Luna’s chapter is entirely poetry. Bellatrix is an exercise of insanity and a stream of consciousness. Narcissa’s is all letters to Andromeda that she never sent.

I would love to finish it because it is something very different for me but I’m struggling to find Pansy and Andromeda’s voices. Le sigh, maybe one day. (But let’s be honest, it’ll never happen.)

What are your writing strengths?

Humour - I have a knack for gargling up ridiculous scenarios when I’m brushing my teeth, giggling maniacally like a calcium-deficient vampire while frothing at the mouth with reckless abandon. I put these scenarios in my writing and it goes over well.

Angst - People tell them I make them cry and have been known to punch the heart’s out of people’s bodies so I thank them and wish them a nice day. I once exacerbated someone’s chronic pain condition (which I still feel soul-crushingly guilty about) and was asked to reiterate the ‘Heartbreak’ tag on a fic. I guess that means I’m good at it. Sorry again to that reader!

Trope Twists - My favourite thing to write are twists on tropes. I enjoy finding new ways to tell old stories. Stay tuned for my take on the ‘Unexpected Pregnancy’ theme coming soon.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Run-on sentences - I have a tendency to, more often than not, plug in far too many words which I think stems from some sort of childhood instinct that if I kept talking and talking then my sister won’t find out I drank all her juice and accidentally threw it back up on her favourite Skydancer.

Sticking to my plotting/theme - This has happened a lot. Incandescent was supposed to be a cottagecore, cute, fluffy romance Theomione. Now it is a sprawling space opera where Hermione has fought a god, has learned another version of herself will either save/destroy the entire world (not to mention Atlantis) and rescued a star after it was eaten by a black hole. Oh, and it takes place over one weekend.

The Absolute and Total Defeat of One Draco Malfoy had been fully plotted out for twenty-two chapters. It only took three for me to completely deviate. But it’s a crack fic, so it felt inevitable

The montage/transition pieces - I hate writing the banal parts between plot points. And I hate it because I’m really bad at it. I either skip over it too much or get bogged down in too many details.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I personally like reading dialogue in other languages. If used in a way that makes sense. Especially if the fic is set somewhere that doesn’t speak English, I like to learn a little of the setting’s language to immerse myself.

I tend to use use other languages sparingly in my own writing. Mostly because I don’t want to get it wrong and when I try, I end up in four hour long research holes of the best way to say ‘Hello’.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Ancient Greek mythology, I think. If it can be counted. Would that make ‘The Iliad’ or ‘The Odyssey’ fanfic? Oh gods, I’m going to obsess over this for days now.

What’s your favourite fic that you’ve written?

Transit of Venus because it taught me a lot, though I feel like I best nailed the setting I was going for in Are There Still Beautiful Things. The Absolute and Total Defeat of One Draco Malfoy always cheers me up.

But if I complete it and start posting (which I am DETERMINED to do, I WILL finish it before I start posting), I think my favourite will be my new WIP: What’s Owed When.

Tagging: @ohlenalena​ @megamegaturlte

[hillnerd]

(for the ask meme) I'm a huge Romione shipper, but a little part of me ships Ron x Luna - any thoughts about it?

He’d always been a bloke who was a good time, who was there to cheer people up, and generally wasn’t much for exploring the darker deeper recesses of his mind if he could avoid it. 

Every time he did it was like falling into a deep pond, arms tied behind his back. Eventually he’d be able to struggle and kick his way to the surface, but it was a hard slog and one he’d rather NOT do, thank you very much.

He couldn’t help but fall into that pond after the war. It would happen at the oddest times. He’d be at a park and a girl would scream out and laugh as her boyfriend grabbed her from behind, and all he could hear was Hermione’s screams when she was being tortured. Someone would approach him from behind and he’d be half a second from hexing them. Watery sadness kept encroaching, only instead of a pond, it felt like a great ocean.

He found a tsunami bearing down on him at Hogwarts. He’d gone there to help clean up and rebuild the school. He’d once known every hallway of Hogwarts, but with all the spell damage and blasted apart walls, he found it a lot harder to recognize where he was. He was alone when he turned a corridor and felt the air whoosh out of him. The rubble and detritus was mostly in the same places they’d been that night. Behind that piece of armor was where Percy and Harry had stowed Fred’s dead body. And right where the wall was caved inward were giant blocks and a dark stain that had once been crimson blood. 

His knees felt weak and his stomach lurched. Without thought he ran for it, not stopping until he was next to the lake splattering sick on the ground. He gasped until finally his breaths finally evened out. He was about to stand when he felt something nuzzle at his side.

He gave a start and fell over as he saw a tiny skeletal creature with vacant white eyes. It looked like someone had taken a grey baby hippogriff, plucked it, and mummified it. Its skin was slightly reptilian and clung to its bones in a disturbing manner. With a ‘whoosh’ it opened its leathery wings and a current of air pushed Ron’s fringe back.

“It’s a baby Thestral,” said an airy voice. He whipped his head over to see Luna Lovegood. Her long blonde hair in a plait with some sort of onion tied on at the end, and her large grey eyes were fixed on him with more piercing clarity than he was used to from her.

He turned back to the tiny Thestral and saw a full herd of them milling about near the trees. He’d not been able to see them as he rode them to the Ministry, and he’d not been able to see them when he’d flown beside them last summer. Now he’d be able to see them the rest of his life.

“They probably came out because of your cut.”

“Cut?” he croaked.

The thestral foal came forward, sniffing at Ron’s arm. Sure enough he had a small wound on his left arm. It wasn’t terribly deep, but a good amount of blood was beginning to pool down to his hand. He hadn’t even noticed. The foal gave a tentative lick along Ron’s arm that he twitched away from the creature.

“Thestral spit doesn’t do anything bad, does it?” he asked her.

“Not that I’m aware of. Though if they drool a lot it can be hard to get out of your robes,” she said coming forth to look more closely at the foal. “Would you like me to heal your arm?”

Honestly, he wasn’t so sure he did want Luna Lovegood to heal his arm. He liked her an awful lot, especially since she seemed very capable of trouncing Death Eaters as well as anyone, but he knew nothing about her spell work beyond that.

“I’m rather good at healing spells,” she blithely explained. Her smile had ever so slightly hardened. She had done that when he complimented her after she did the Quidditch commentary his sixth year. His doubt in her must have shown on his face.

“Sorry,” he apologized, holding up his arm. “Yeah, heal away.”

She nodded and quickly healed his arm, before turning her large eyes back to the thestral. The dozy little beast looked disappointed, despite its pupiless eyes, and scuffled away towards its herd.

“Thanks,” said Ron, flexing his arm and finding it healed almost as good as new. “Would have been a real cinch to have you with us last year. We never knew healing charms besides Episkey.”

“None of you did?” Her large grey eyes somehow were wider than usual.

“Er, not really. Bottle of dittany was the go-to… The thestrals would have loved me when I got splinched.”

“Your fingers?” she said pointing to his missing fingernails. Most people didn’t notice his mangled fingers, it was so subtle. The topside of his fingers had been sliced clean off, and hadn’t grown back. It was all flesh and a bit sunken where his nails used to be.

“Yeah, and my shoulder,” he said, giving it a shrug. 

“Do you have trouble picking up things?”

“Why’d you ask that?” he asked, tone sharper than it should have been. Ron stood to his full height and squinted his eyes at her. He’d had a lot of trouble with his left hand not working well since the splinching, but so far literally no one had noticed. He’d done a good job covering it up.

“Well, I use fingernails to help me pick up fine things, and you’re right handed.”

Ron let out a breath. Good, no one knew about his left arm being wonky. 

“Missing fingernails mostly make scratching itches a pain. I keep forgetting and having to change hands,” he said, before looking down at his arm again. “How’d you get so good at healing spells anyways?”

“I had to get good at them with the Carrows in the school.” She said this as if she was commenting on the weather. She and Ginny didn’t have any scars that he could see, but Neville had a good number. If he had to guess, they’d been the ones doing a lot of the healing spells for the DA. He had to wonder how she could be so blasé about her experiences at Hogwarts when she’d been through so much the past year. She’d been that way at Shell Cottage too, though he hadn’t been of a mind to notice her much then.

“So, er… How’s your house coming along?”

“It’s still exploded, but Daddy’s got a tent he’s been staying in for now.”

“You in the tent too?”

She shook her head and gave another of her seemingly serene smiles. Ron was catching a bit more onto what that meant.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. We can clean up a bit here,” he said, spelling some more splintered trees into a pile. The pile was a bit unstable, then suddenly righted itself. He glanced over to Luna who was gracefully waving her wand.

They quietly worked side by side, moving rubble, trees and large divots of dirt the size of his father’s feral Ford Anglia. 

He looked over to Luna’s pile and gave a snort before all-out laughing. She’d managed to make one that looked an awful lot like Hagrid, branches comprising his beard and hair.

He had a lot less artistic finesse than Luna, but made a passable Harry, using a literal birds’ nest for the hair.  She gave a lyrical little laugh.

They made a whole slew of figures, one more grandiose than the last.  

By the ends of it they were smeared in dust and sweating, but the grounds were looking something like they had before, beside the silly dirt clod figurines. He grinned over at her.

“It was nice to have your help.”

“It’s nice to see you smile again,”

It was nice to have a reason to.

[itsthetriwitchesbitches]

Chaotic Freds

Building off a couple of popular headcanons, the TriWitches developed the Chaotic Freds headcanon. Credit to the creators of the headcanon that Fred Weasley becomes the Gryffindor ghost post-Battle of Hogwarts and the headcanon that eventually there are so many kids named Fred in honor of Fred Weasley at Hogwarts that it’s a bit of a mess. 

Ghost Fred is just vibing at Hogwarts for a few years, right? 

just chilling, maybe helping Peeves out once in a while 

but mostly staying out of drama

and then one day, as the first years are ushered up to the Gryffindor common room for the first time that year, Ghost Fred hears someone call out 

“Fred Longbottom! Boys’ dormitory to the right!” 

Ghost Fred’s head whips around so fast he could almost join the Headless Hunt

Too shocked to track down Fred Longbottom at the moment, Ghost Fred makes his way straight to Professor Longbottom’s office

“Has my hearing gone or have you stolen my name for your scrawny boy?”

Neville just smiles, telling him he didn’t try to steal from Fred, but instead tried to honor him

Ghost Fred is suddenly very glad that ghosts can’t cry

from that moment on Ghost Fred sets out to befriend the young Fred Longbottom

he helps him remember the common room password

and shows him the quickest ways to all his classes 

(Ghost Fred wants to show him the secret passage ways, but he’s still too much of a goody-goody professor’s son)

(Ghost Fred will work on that)

the summer comes and goes, and Ghost Fred is ready to see his new friend start his second year at Hogwarts

to his shock, Fred Longbottom comes in leading a gaggle of first year boys who all already seem to know each other, despite the prefect’s clear annoyance

Fred Longbottom leads them over to Ghost Fred’s corner of the common room, and introduces them 

Fred Potter-Weasley

Fred Granger-Weasley

Fred Delacour-Weasley 

Fred Johnson-Weasley 

and Fred Jordan 

(there’s also a Harry Wood, named after Oliver’s favorite seeker, but that’s irrelevant)

Ghost Fred’s wild glee returns to his eyes 

that whole year, Ghost Fred builds an army of troublemakers 

Fred Granger-Weasley convinces Fred Longbottom to use the passageways in week two 

Ghost Fred convinces Fred Potter-Weasley to steal the Marauder’s Map during Christmas Holidays 

Professor McGonagall is certain that Fred Jordan and Fred Delcaour-Weasley are there solely to try her wits 

and Fred Johnson-Weasley has been known to unleash a bludger into the great hall during the Halloween Feast 

(he got a howler from Molly for that one)

when packing up for the summer holidays that year, the army of Freds comes down to Ghost Fred’s spot in the common room one last time

“King Fred deserves a crown,” says Fred Potter-Weasley, as Fred Longbottom places the papier-mache crown on King Fred’s brow

King Fred never takes it off 

no one thought the chaos could grow after that year 

but then next year brings a strawberry blonde Gryffindor first year girl

she spots the army of Freds plotting by the common room fireplace and doesn’t hesitate to introduce herself with an audacity and eccentric air that King Fred finds slightly familiar 

“I’m Fred Lovegood,”

the boys lose their minds and King Fred names her Princess Fred immediately 

she isn’t sure what she’s gotten into, but she’s quite pleased with herself 

Fred Longbottom doesn’t hesitate to make Princess Fred a papier-mache tiara 

Fred Longbottom has also broken down enough to smuggle the army through the passageways to Hogsmeade 

Freds Potter-Weasley and Jordan are on the Gryffindor quidditch team

and King Fred and the army goes to cheer them on every game 

(and distract them at every practice)

the first time Princess Fred gets an O on her Charms homework (which she’s been struggling with for weeks), the Freds have a parade through the castle 

King Fred hoists her on his shoulders, crowns on full display, and flies her slightly above the army marching and cheering around them 

they have streamers and are shouting and singing for her

Princess Fred just laughs and sings with them

they end by busting down the door of the Great Hall, fashionably late for dinner 

(all the Freds give her their share of pudding.)

(she is sick all evening, but it is worth it.)

Bonus: 

the first time the silver trio meets up for tea during Fred Lovegood’s first year, Luna asks Neville how she’s faring at Hogwarts 

Ginny and Neville share a knowing look 

(because of course they know about the army)

“She’s...” Neville starts 

“She’s joined a cult.” Ginny finishes 

“Oh, good for her!” Luna coos

[siriuslywolfish-pg9]

Drarry+Flowercrowns🥀 (part 1)

It strated with a single flower on a pleasant october afternoon when Harry and Draco were relaxing under a tree.

Harry was pouting because Draco wasn't giving him any attention as he was busy reading his charms text-book. (Things were rough for Draco after the war and he really could not afford to slack off.)

So Harry did the only mature thing to do. He conjured a bunch of blossoms and showered them on Draco.

And it wasn't the soft romantic kind of shower but full on flowers shooting straight out of Harry's wand and smacking Draco right in the face. Getting under his robes and everything.

Draco spluttered and glared at Harry, crossing his arms over his chest, but the way Harry was laughing, open and tingling, made it hard for Draco to get mad at him.

So Draco just rolled his eyes exasperatedly (and fondly)--which only made Harry burst into giggles--and went back to his book.

That was until Harry leaned forward, still grining from ear to ear, and, plucking a stray flower that was stuck in Draco's hair, placed it gently behind Draco's ear before kissing his cheek (And if Harry's fingers lingered just a little bit longer on Draco's cheek and his jaw and his neck, then that was neither here nor there.)

And Draco, with his heart beating wildly in his chest and his cheeks turning pink, was unable to stop the small smile that spread across his face. Idiot, he muttered, not looking up from his book.

After that, Harry put a flower behind Draco's ear or in his hair every chance he got, just to watch Draco blush and get flustered because--

Damn! Potter is so close, and he is smiling that stupid charming smile of his.

And Harry kissed Draco everytime he put a flower. Sometimes the kisses were on Draco's cheeks, other times they were a soft brush of lips against his forehead or his temple, and sometimes they were playful pecks on his lips.

Draco acted annoyed but he secretly loved those tender moments. (And Harry knew that.)

Draco let the flowers stay when they were alone together. Later he pressed them between the pages of a diary he espeacially made for this purpose.

Harry didn't know about the diary, of course.

This went on until one day, when they were resting under the same secluded tree, Harry fell asleep with his head on Draco's lap while the slytherin was studying.

When Draco noticed that Harry has dozed off, he felt a little warm and fuzzy in his chest because Harry trusted him enough to let his guard down around him.

And Draco, feeling a little mischivious and a little giddy, tentatively placed a tiny flower behind Harry's ear and gently brushed his fringes aside to plant a tender kiss on his forehead.

Tucking back an unruly dark curl, Draco combed his fingers through Harry's hair, watching as the Griffindor's eyes flickered open.

At first Draco froze with his hand still hovering uncertainly over Harry's head, unsure about how Harry would react because, lets face it, they still weren't anything official. (Because of course neither of these dumbasses had gathered the courage to actually ask the other one out, even when they had already gone to too many 'friendly' dates, Lmao.)

But before Draco could start panicking, Harry smiled, that sleepy, lazy and open smile of his, it was small and fragile, and Draco's heart flipped in his chest.

With a soft sigh, Harry relaxed further in Draco's lap before closing his eyes and falling back asleep.

That night, the whole school stared as Harry Potter, war hero, master of death and defeater of the dark lord, walked into the great hall with a flower in his hair.

Drarry+Flower crowns🥀 (part 2)

After that Draco always tucked a new flower behind Harry's ear, searching for more and more beautiful flowers, trying different colours and shades and fragrances.

Simetimes he also charmed them to sparkel or change colours, and other times he charmed them for luck or dipped them in potions with calming properties (once even Flitwick asked to get a closer look at one of Harry's flowers because the charms work was commendable.)

Draco loved it as it was his silent way of showing the world that Harry was his, even if he couldn't say it out loud.

Harry wore the flowers proudly and unabashedly for as long he could until he either lost them while sleeping or doing something, or they dried or faded.

The charmed flowers with longer life span found their way into a glass jar which Harry kept on his bedside table.

The jar soon became full of colourful patels and calming fragrences, some flowers even glowed in the night.

When Harry woke up after a terrible nightmare, he would stare at the jar until he fell asleep again. It helped him relax. It was a reminder to Harry of how much Draco cared about him. How Draco did little things to cheer him up, and those tiny gestures meant more to Harry than anyone, even Draco, could fathom.

Soon the school started to catch on and the rumour mill went wild. Everyone was gossiping about Harry Potter's secret behind his chain of enchanted flowers.

Bets were being placed, most of them were about Harry Potter's secret admirer or his paramour. (Ginny bet on it being Professor Sprouts just to take the piss, and Seamus bet on it being a pre requsite routine for an elaborate dark ritual.)

Soon Draco got more and more creative with his flowers, until one day he came across luna making a flower crown.

He watched luna from afar, getting intrigued by the quiant art, and implored her if she would teach him how to make one?

Draco was hesitant to ask at first, not sure if he deserved any generosity from Luna. But luna being luna, just smiled and patted the grass next to her and invited Draco to join.

Watching her nimble fingers threading together flowers of vibrant colours, Draco was mesmerised by the intricate patterns and delicate knots that come together to form a flower crown.

Soon, Draco became obsessed with them, practising secretly, day and night, to master the art of making flower crowns. He raided the green house to get the right flowers and searched the library for suitable charms.

He realised that the repititive pattern of tying flowers together was rather calming, it helped him relax whenever he felt anxious as it gave him something to do with his hands.

Of course, Harry became the recipient of Draco's creativity.

The upgrade from flowers to a crown was not lost to the school, which was in an uproar with speculations by now.

Of course, no one had figured out that Draco was behind it. Because it's Malfoy, and it wasn't like people were paying any attention to him, and Draco was okay with that. Everyone had mostly avoided Draco and left him alone since the begining of the term, apart from some hexes here and there (which stopped after Harry caught some 6th years trying to hurt Draco and went all defeater-of-the-dark lord on them. It was scary!)

Then one day at breakfast, around Christmas, a box was delivered to Harry.

Inside it was a crown with sparkling silver-blue and white flowers, tiny charmed butterflies of the same shade flying on it.

The entire school held its breath and silently stared in awe as Harry picked up the note from the box.

Be my date for the Christam ball?

And Harry's jaw went slack, because he knew this was a huge step for Draco, not only was Draco putting himself out there for Harry (which Harry knew was very difficult for the blond since war had made Draco more guarded and insecure), but it also meant that they would be going public. It would be official, whatever it was between them.

Harry had the sudden urge to just get up and kiss Draco right then and there in front of the whole school.

But he controlled himself. Feeling all the eyes on the back of his neck, Harry picked up the crown and placed it on his head before going back to his breakfast, ignoring the gasps of gobsmacked students.

Once the chatter of the great hall resumed, Harry scanned the room only to find Draco looking back at him with a shy smile on his face. And Harry's heart just melts because Merlin, he loved this stuborn git so much.

On the evening of the ball, Harry anxiously waited in the entrance hall for Draco, afraid that the slytherin has changed his mind.

But then Draco appeared on the staircase, looking hesitant and a little overwhelmed, wide silver eyes flitting across the room until they landed on Harry and lit up at the sight of him.

Harry was wearing the same flower crown that Draco had given him when he had asked Harry to be his date.

Draco was delighted to see that Harry had even taken the troble to coordinate the colour of his tie to compliment the crown.

Harry conciously adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves as Draco walked towards him.

He couldn't even take his eyes off Draco. Christ! He is so beautiful. How did I get so lucky? was all Harry could think.

I can't make a flower crown but...here, and Harry pulled out a silver flower brooch, resembling the flowers in his hair and pinned it on the lapel of Draco's robes.

Draco beamed, his eyes shining. And Harry's heart skipped a beat.

Ready? He asked, offering his hand to Draco, who took a deep breath feeling not ready at all, but slipped his hand into Harry's anyway before nodding, yeah.

A hush fell over the crowd as the two walked into the hall, hand in hand, wearing similar flowers. And everyone just knew. No one understood how it was possible or what happned, but the way both these idiots were looking at each other left no room for any doubts.

Harry stopped at the centre of the dance floor and slipped his hand around Draco's waist, pulling him close.

I have been waiting do this for so long, Harry breathed before kissing Draco square on the lips. It was firm and gentle and all consuming. Just like Harry.

And that's how the mystery of the enchanted flower crown was solved.

At the back of the room a grumbling Ron passed a galleon to a smug looking Hermione because of course, she knew. It was so obvious. Honestly!

Drarry+Flower crowns🥀 (part 3)

But it didn't end there. Now everyone knew that Draco made amazing flower crowns, and a lot of students wanted to ask Dravo about them, but they were all too scared of the big bad death eater.

It was a first year hufflepuff who finally gathered the courage and asked Draco if he could please make a crown for her sister? It was her birthday.

And Draco, who was now sitting with Harry at the griffindor table, just blinked because she was adorable, such a tiny little thing, all small feet and high pitched voice.

Draco's throat tightened, this was the first time someone had voluntarily talked to him without cursing him (apart from Harry and his friends).

Harry squeezed Draco's hand under the table and brought it to his lips to plant a soft kiss on his knuckles, giving Draco a soft smile.

And Draco--his eyes moist and his voice thick-- replied that of course he would love to make a crown for her.

The girl practically glowed as she bounced back to her classmates who clustered around her in awe, murmering about how cool she was.

This encouraged others too. And soon Draco had juniors flocking around him.

And although Draco felt a little awkward, he liked it, it was much better to be admired and thanked, than to be treated like an evil spawn.

Some kids even asked if Draco could teach them, and he agreed to do so in his free time.

Harry loved watching Draco teaching little kids how to weave flower crowns, he was so sweet and patient and tender with them.

It turned Harry's heart into a puddle of goo. Everytime.

The kids adored Draco. A lot. They were so awed and fascinated by him.

Draco is so smart, they would say when he helped them understand a difficult concept in potions. He soon became their favorite person. He is the best!

They thought Draco's dark mark was kind of wicked and badass, and Draco had to spend an afternoon to make sure that they understood the gravity of it. Glorifying evil isn't healthy for kids, Harry.

Everyone at hogwarts was a little confused. They didn't know how to react to Malfoy being all soft and kind to ickely first years.

And the image of Draco surrounded by a swarm of kids, all learning to weave flowers, did not exactly scream evil.

Luna, Harry and Hermione joined Draco's little gatherings too. And soon Ron was inviting Draco for chess games.

It was Lavender (amongst the older kids) who first initiated talking to Draco, asking if he could help her with a flower crown too. (Because after the werewolf attack, she felt really self concious and some flower accesory would be great).

And of course Draco agreed. He made one especially suited for her, using charms and potions that would help her frazzeled nerves around the full moon.

Lavender was so greatful that she practically jumped on him, hugging him tightly. Thank you, this would really help. You are not so bad after all, Draco.

Draco felt so touched that he almost teared up. Almost.

Word travelled about Lavender and soon Draco found other older kids being a little more open and friendly towards him.

He was in shock for a solid minute when someone randomly said Hi to him in the corridor. And was even more surprised when a Ravenclaw asked if he could partner with Draco in class.

Things escalated around Valentines as people thought Draco's charms were great for the occasion and wanted to ask him about it.

And slowly, but surely, the hostilities reduced and people began to give Draco another chance.

It wasn't all sunshine and roses, some people were still wary of him, but it was better than nothing.

Things finally started to look hopeful and colourful. As if, like a flower crown, Draco was finally weaving his life back into something that he could love and admire.

It took time and patients but he managed to tie the delicate knots of friendship and relationship again.

He had Harry by his side now and future didn't look so bleak anymore.

Just Draco and Harry being happy and fluffy and wearing flowers in their hair. Thankyou.

[anchanted-one]

Harry Potter Talk

Settle in everyone, this is going to be a long one.

So a couple of days ago, I saw a massive anti-HP (the character) rant that really irritated me that I wanted to address.

Before I do, let's address the transphobic in the room. Rowling. Transphobia is detestable, and not wanting to support the series while that directly benefits and enriches her is a super valid stance. Also my personal stance, we support the trans people in this house!

Now that that's out of the way.

"Harry Potter, jock from a wealthy family" or something to that effect.

Regardless of how big his bank account is, remember how Harry was brought up? And by whom?

The Dursleys. The magic-hating child-abusers. Who forced Harry to sleep in a cupboard under the stairs for eleven years. Who gave him Dudley's things secondhand. His mother's sister was so unwilling to spend a dime on him that she was dyeing some of Dudley's old things gray to use as Harry's school uniform.

His cousin Dudley, who delighted in tormenting him, and whose gang joined him in beating up Harry whenever Dudley felt bored enough that he wanted to beat him up for fun.

Is this the upbringing of a "rich jock"? He never used much of his wealth in the Muggle world and even in his school years he seems to know the importance of restraint, and sharing (in book one, he's delighted to be able to share with Ron, and in book four he gives the Twins a thousand galleons without a second thought). Dudley was the one who got thirty-six presents on his birthday and threw a fit coz it was less than what he'd got the previous year. Harry got a used tissue for Christmas. He was the one so not expecting any gifts at all that his best friend's mother packed him a hand-knitted sweater for him, and made his day.

Jock? He played the loneliest position in the Quidditch team. The Chasers and Keepers work together as a team, and the Beaters too, but Seekers are ignored by everyone--including the team--until it becomes apparent that they've spotted something.

Harry was quite popular when he joined the school, but that popularity mostly manifested as people pointing at his scar and whispering about him. Most made him uncomfortable. He only ever had a few friends he was comfortable with.

There were long periods when he was in fact an outcast. That time he lost fifty points for the thing with the dragon, or the time when the Ministry and the Newspapers had turned the entire Wizarding world against him. The time his name came out of the Goblet of Fire, all Houses except Gryffindor treated him like shit, and even the Gryffindors, while they were cheering for him, weren't paying much mind when he was saying that he didn't do it, or that he needed support. That one time, even Ron didn't stay by his side. He was all alone but for Hermione.

The only time he fit the bill of the jock was in book six, when he was too obsessed with what Malfoy was doing to give a damn about his newfound popularity. That was also when he chose the company of outcasts like Neville and Luna over popular hangers-on.

Yes, there are legit reasons to hate the character; he has a massive hero complex. He routinely gets his friends into trouble because of it. He has a very narrow and myopic perspective because of which he doesn't notice much outside of his mystery-hunter track (there was a time when I could illustrate that point better, but it's been a decade and more since I read the last book. I wanted to better read up before talking about this, but I can't bring myself to binge-read like I used to)

By contrast, yes James Potter was a 'jock'. But that's reason to hate him, not his son. Harry, when he sees Snape's worst memory, is rightly horrified. When Remus tries to make the "we were just fifteen" excuse, Harry reminds him "I'm fifteen!". (It should also be noted that Snape's memories obviously show his nemesis at his worst, whereas Remus Lupin--the Werewolf--tells Harry repeatedly that James and Sirius were there for him when no one else was. James risked his life to fight Voldemort, whereas Snape was happily on Voldy's side until that one person he cared about was marked for death by the Prophecy©. Snape was also an abusive bully well until he died--just ask Neville. Dumbledore has also told Harry that memories are fickle things, which can be changed, so the chances that Snape simmered in this memory and unconsciously distilled it to make his old nemeses seem even worse--or himself seem like the angel who wouldn't hurt a fly--also exist. As someone who's experienced bullying, mockery, etc, I know this self-serving tendency of memory quite well. Though this bit is speculation on my part. )

Regarding the sillier names like Pansy Parkinson, and mean descriptions

In addition, when the series began, it started as a children's series, hence the Roald Dahl-like non-villain bad guys of the early part, and the "hate-me-I'm-nasty" names they were given. The Dursleys. Dudley Dursley aka Dudders. "Pansy Parkinson". Everyone was more caricature than character. That's how they are in children's books.

Many people are also described in a way to make the reader immediately dislike them. Malfoy is pale, with a pointy chin. Snape is an oily man with a large beaked nose and greasy hair. Rita Skeeter has a mannish jaw. Umbridge has a face like a toad. All of this is again in keeping with the Roald Dahl theme. Whether it's Augustus Gloop, Veruca Salt, Mike Teavee, Violet Beauregarde or their mannerisms and descriptions make readers feel an instant dislike for them.

When the series became more... Mature, those caricatures can start finding their critics. Never mind that such caricatures and worse can be found in thousands of other works, like Superhero comics for instance. Yes, no one names their children "Pansy" but Slytherin was an allegory for white supremacist type people. Back in those days, JK wanted them to be hated without reserve, much as she wanted bigotry and racism to be (irony, considering where she stands today).

Death of the Author

In the text there is no real transphobia that I can remember, other than that description of Rita having a "mannish jaw" (I admit that I haven't read it in ages, but I am still certain of this). Once the material is out in print, everyone is free to interpret it as they choose. Whenever JK comes out with clarifications or retcons or something--as she is known to do anyway--it's still more of her headcanon than in-world truth. If there is no outright mention of something in the text, then it doesn't matter what meaning the author intended to convey. What matters is what each reader makes of it. In the case of Harry Potter, the enemy are clearly folks obsessed with blood purity: Purebloods.

Lazy names

I'm going to speak specifically about the Indian names here: Parvati and Padma Patil.

While India is a large country and the name is more common in certain regions than others, I had heard that Patel/Patil surname is quite common in Britain. And really in Indian cinema the most common girls' names are Priya (Big Bang Theory as well) or Pooja, many girls in this side of the screen have goddess names. Like "Parvati". Many people also keep the same first letter for names for twins, or even in families (for instance, my parents, sister, and I, all have names starting with "A"), so "Padma" is a nice choice of name. And really, Padma and Parvati Patil are much better names than "Khan Noonien Singh" (now there's a lazy name).

Everyone insists that Star Trek's Khan is supposed to be of Indian origin, but with a name like that and an actor with a Mexican accent... I don't really think so. It was because of this silly character generation that I didn't particularly mind him being played by the very white Benedict Cumberbatch.

But the Patil twins. Them I can feel that connection to.

Races of the main cast

Now this might be something contentious, so I apologise for that in advance.

No one cares what Harry is, though since Petunia is noted as being pale, and Lily has red hair, the unknown factor is James Potter. Was he black? That would make Harry biracial at best.

Ron is written as a freckled boy with red hair, and all Weasleys share that look.

As for Hermione... She is the poster child of the blood-purity bigotry bias. When reading her, people are supposed to understand that the prejudice against her is certainly her Muggle-born origin; not her skin color, not her nationality, not her sexual orientation. Which is why I feel it's necessary that she stand out as less as possible in those other ways. For this reason I think that it was a good idea to portray her as white.

Here are characters who are specifically noted as black: Dean Thomas, Michael Corner (both of whom were Ginny's boyfriends), Kingsley Shacklebolt, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, Lee Jordan, Blaise Zabini (who's noted as being very handsome, and quite popular). Aside from these we have a few token people of Indian and Chinese origin. Speaking again as an Indian, I don't really mind. This is a British story set in a mid-nineties British school only accepting students from the British Isles. It makes sense to me if there are few Indians.

What does all of this translate to? There are legit reasons to hate both the character and the series. So don't make stuff up, especially if you're ignoring the text to do it. Don't confuse the author and their work, even if you have resolved not to buy that work and thereby support her.

[agarariddle-andhernachos]

EVERYTHING I EVER WANTED

Tom Riddle x Hermione Granger

Summary : Everything was planned, the spring wedding, the house, the children. But not Tom. Tom was not part of the plan. Unplanned things happen after all.

Azkaban was mostly renowned for its game night each Tuesday. Hermione had the habit of going there with her girlfriends on those nights. Tonight she was late. She saw the pub from afar and picked up the pace to reach the door. Once inside, she felt the warmth of the fireplace and the smell of the beer.

Luna noticed her from where she was sitting and rose her hand. Hermione smiled as she saw her friend and approached the table.

“Finally !” Ginny whined. “We’ve been waiting for you for hours.”

“Oh come on Ginny, she’s just ten minutes late.” Fleur smiled.

“Sorry girls, the tube was packed and I had to wait for the next one. When are those strikes going to end ?” Hermione wondered as she took off her winter coat and put it on the back of her chair.

She gestured to the bartender to order a beer and turned back to her friends.

“Please tell me you’ve gone to the florist.” Fleur told her.

“Oh fuck.” Hermione exhaled and put her head in her hands.

“Hermione ! The wedding is in 2 months.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll go there tomorrow. I promise.”

 The bartender put the beer in front of her and Hermione smiled at him.

“Hello everyone.” The voice of Lee Jordan resonated in the small pub. “Welcome back for game night. You all know the rules, each team gives a fiver and the winning team wins one meter of shots.”

The crowd cheered at this. Hermione put her hair in a ponytail, readying herself for what was about to happen. She had always loved a little competition and in the past few months she had taken those quiz games quite seriously. One of the waitresses put one buzzer on their table as Angelina Jonson gave her a fiver.

 “Everyone has a buzzer ?” Lee Jordan asked. “Good, let’s get started then. Question 1 : When you flush the toilet, in which direction does the water drain away ? A. Is there even a direction ? B. Counter-clockwise. C. Clockwise. D. In whichever way, the water does whatever it wants.”

 Hermione almost spilled her own drink trying to get to the buzzer. “B. Counter-Clockwise.” She answered. Her friends looked at her, wondering how she even knew the answer to this question.

“One point to the red team. Nice to see you Hermione.” Lee Jordan smirked.

 “Question 2 : How many squares are there on a chessboard ? A. It depends on the size of the squares. B. It depends on the size of the chessboard. C. It depends on the pieces. D. 64 squares.”

 The five girls looked at each other and laughed at the absurdity. Hermione went to press the buzzer but she heard someone being faster at the back of the room.

Hermione eagerly turned around and saw a tall man standing by his table a beer in his hand. His hair was perfectly styled and he had a shit eating grin on his lips.

“D. 64 squares.” The man answered. His mates all clapped as he found the right answer.

“One point to the green team.” Lee announced.

“This question was too easy anyway.” Hermione mumbled. “A child could have answered that.” Luna and Ginny shared a knowing glance at their friend's attitude.

“Question 3 : One of those superheroes is made up. Which one ? A. Spiderman. B. Sandman. C. Elastic man. D.Mashed Potato Man.”

 The sound of two buzzers could be heard and both of the players speaking up the same answer at the same time. Hermione, her hand still on the buzzer, turned around once more and glared at the man, his hand still on the buzzer too.

 “I pressed it before you.” Hermione told him.

“No, I did.” He shot back.

Hermione turned towards Lee Jordan and asked him “Lee, I was the one to buzz first, right ?”

“Oh of course, ask your friend !” The man snickered behind her.

“It doesn’t mean anything that he’s my friend because I’m right.” Hermione snapped.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Calm down guys, it’s just a game.” Lee tried to defuse the tension. “Actually, green you didn’t really press the buzzer and the yellow team did. Hermione, you buzzed last. So it’s the yellow team that has to say the answer.”

“D ? Mashed potato man ?” A shy girl said.

“One point to the yellow team.” Lee cheered.

 Hermione was still looking at the man, a small smirk on her lips as he lost the point.

“You lost too, you know ?” He finally told her.

“I don’t talk to other teams.” Hermione mumbled before turning back on her chair.

Her four friends were all snickering, clearly making fun of her highly competitive self. Hermione mouthed the word “what ?” then waited for the next question.

“Question 4 : Among those Smurfs, one doesn’t exist. A. The purple smurf. B. The astro-smurf. C. The smurfette. D. The smurf who doesn’t exist.”

 Hermione hadn’t had the time to laugh at the question that she was already shouting the answer, her left arm colliding with her beer, and the latter ending up on the floor. “D. The smurf who doesn’t exist.”

“Hermione, you really need to calm down.” Lee Jordan laughed. “It’s only a silly game.”

Hermione felt her cheeks heating and slowly lowered her head, a little embarrassed.

“Ok, a second point to the red team. It’s time for the theme round. As you all know, I’ll give you a theme and some clues. Tonight’s team is Monsters. Let’s get started. Which monster has a zip on its face and was created by a mad scientist ?”

“Frankenstein !” The man almost yelled, apparently as much competitive as Hermione was.

“Good answer ! 1 point to the green team.” Lee Jordan smiled.

“Excuse me ?” Hermione snapped. “That is not the right answer.” She faced the man and got up. “Frankenstein is the name of the said-scientist, not of the monster.”

The man put his beer down and took a step forward. “What would you call it then ?” He sneered.

“Frankenstein's monster.” Hermione replied as if the was the most evident answer.

“Come on ! It’s the fucking same.”

“No it is not. Check your facts.”

 They were both only a couple of meters away, the entire bar could feel the tension rising up. This small argument rapidly turned into something nastier. Slurs were thrown. Suddenly, Hermione felt a light pressure on her arm and saw Oliver Wood, the owner of the bar, taking her outside.

“Oliver ?” She asked, quite shocked. The door opened just a moment later and Hermione saw the man being escorted by Cormac McLaggen, the bartender.

“You two stay here until you’re calm.” Oliver said before getting back inside.

 A silence settled. As the man lit up a cigarette, Hermione took out her phone. She mumbled something.

“Come again ?” He asked.

“I was right. It is the monster of Frankenstein and not just Frankenstein.”

“Are you seriously still on that ?

 Hermione pouted and crossed her arms on her chest. She started shivering from the cold. The man secured his cigarette around his lips, sighed and took off his coat. He approached her and draped it over her shoulders. She rose her head to meet his eyes and took a step back.

“Let me stop you right there. I found mine.” She simply told him.

“And ?” He genuinely asked.

“I can see where you’re going with your coat and all of that.” She moved her hand close to his face. “I’m not single. I already found mine.”

“Good for you, so did I. But can’t you just say thank you like a normal person ?”

She looked at him and said “thank you” under her breath.

 The door to the bar opened and two people came out of it, one being Ginny.

“Hermione, the game is over. We won. You can get back inside.” She told her.

Hermione gave back his coat to the man standing and went to join her friend when the other person spoke up.

“Tom, let’s hit Dolohov’s party.”

She looked at the man, Tom. He nodded at his friend and stared at her for a couple of seconds, before Ginny pushed her back into the bar.

 **********

 “How’s your chicken ?” Ron asked her.

“Quite dry.” She laughed. “Come on taste it, and tell me this isn’t dry.” She shoved her fork in front of his face and looked at him in adoration as he took a bite.

“Tastes fine to me.” He smirked.

“Everything tastes fine to you. I’m starting to wonder if you have functioning taste buds.” She teased him.

 He only laughed at that. The waiter went by their side and asked them if they wanted more wine. Ron shook his head and took Hermione’s hand.

“Are we still going to my parents this weekend ?” He wondered out loud.

“Of course we are. When haven’t we spend our anniversary anywhere else ?” Hermione smiled. “Eleven years.”

“Eleven years.” He repeated. “Who would have thought my Complete to be the annoying know-it-all in middle school.”

 Hermione playfully got her hand back and leaned in her chair. “You know what you got into the first time you touched me.”

“And I wouldn’t change that for the world. However, when I think about it, it was quite weird for an eleven-year-old boy to see his all future ahead. The house, the children, you…”

Hermione gently smiled at that. Something began vibrating on their table. Ron took a quick glance at his pager and exhaled.

“I’m sorry honey. I have to go.” He told her as he rose from his seat.

“What ? Right now ?”

“Yes, there is another demonstration near Piccadilly. I am sorry.”

“When is it going to stop ?”

“I don’t know. I hope soon. You know the Incomplete-” Ron got interrupted by another buzzing sound. “I’m sorry again.” He craned his head to press his lips against hers. A minute later, he was out of the restaurant.

Hermione wondered if she should finish eating or just head back early to work. The dryness of her meal answered for her. She picked up her bag, put on her coat and approached the counter to pay.

 She waited behind the woman already paying when someone lightly poked her shoulder. She turned around and saw him.

“Excuse me, may I go before you ? I’m already late to work.” He said without looking at her.

“No you may not.”

He lowered his gaze and met her eyes.

“Oh. It’s you.” He flatly said.

She rolled her eyes and faced the back of the woman paying.

“You don’t want to talk about Frankenstein today ?” She could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Shut it.”

“Come on Hermione.”

She turned around and saw his shit-eating grin.

“Oh pardon me.” He scoffed and stopped smiling. “I shouldn’t smile or you’ll interpret that as flirting.”

“You think you’re funny right ? Well you’re not.” They looked at each other for a while before Hermione exhaled and took a step back. “I’m in a good mood. Go ahead.” She showed with her hand the spot where she was before. He nodded his head a thank you and approached the counter.

  **********

 Monday night was always an almost all-nighter for Hermione. Her internship in this law-firm had started three months ago and apparently her clients liked keeping her busy on the first day of the week. She looked around her and the office was completely empty. She checked her inbox one last time before leaving the building. She stopped before the front door, a horrified look on her face as she saw the heavy rain pouring from the night sky. As the British girl she was, she took out her umbrella and faced the weather. The tube was not that far, but knowing the current social climate she knew it would be packed, she then decided on taking a taxi. She put her left hand in the air, trying to call one. A dozen passed in front of her, all already busy with a customer.

 After ten minutes of long waiting, one stopped in front of her and the passenger window lowered revealing him. Tom.

“How are you ?” He smirked.

“Just go away.” She replied.

“Where are you going ?”

“Chelsea.”

“You’re lucky, it’s on my way. Hop in.”

 She furrowed her brows, wondering if he was making fun of her or not. She decided on getting inside the taxi as she was currently freezing and drenched. She told the taxi driver her address then lounged back.

“Why did you help me ?” She asked him.

“I owe you one. You let me go before you the other day at the restaurant.”

“Well, I guess you’re not as bad as I thought.”

 He smirked. The ride back to Chelsea was not as long as Hermione thought it would be when she saw Tom’s face. They began to talk, about nothing in particular. She found out he was a little shit, but a nice little shit. What was refreshing was that they never talked once about their Complete. Usually, this was the first subject when you meet a new person, they would ask you if you had already met yours, how long it would have been, how many children you would have seen when touching him for the first time.

They didn’t speak about that in this taxi. Actually, they laughed.

 **********

 She was late for game night. Again. However, not ten minutes late like last week but thirty-five minutes late. So when Hermione entered Azkaban, she directly went to the bar, well aware that the girls were currently playing. Cormac poured her usual and smiled as he put it in front of her. She brought it to her lips and rose her head to look at the small TV behind the counter. As usual, Sky News was on loop.

 6 weeks of strikes - Government lost in front of thousands of Incomplete.

Violent demonstration in Westminster.

Prime Minister Fudge - ‘I am well aware of the difficulties the Incompletes are facing’-

 “They’re not wrong though.” She heard from beside her. She startled and saw a tall man standing in front of her. She took a good look at him.

“Taxi guy.” She said.

“Usually people call me Tom.” He smirked. She blinked and smiled.

“Of course Tom.” She remembered.

“Hermione, your team is losing.” Cormac joked. She looked behind the counter and saw Ginny currently pulling at her hair. She laughed at the sight.

“They’re totally lost without me.” She told Cormac.

“Yet, they won without you last week.” Tom intervened.

“I gave them a head start.” She winked.

“Sure you did.” He laughed.

 Tom simply put his beer on the counter and silently joined her in watching the news. The demonstration had started slowly at first, only a dozen of people throughout London. In the next few weeks, the movement had taken great breadth. Thousands of Incomplete marching in the streets, in front of the Parliament and Buckingham, by the riverbanks. Hermione could understand what the Incomplete were trying to tell the government, but seeing Ron leaving every morning in his police uniform to contain the demonstration and meeting him at night, all bloodied, she couldn’t stand this anymore.

“They’re not wrong, you are right.” She spoke up, picking up on what he said before. “I just wouldn’t do it that way.”

He looked at her from the corner of his eye and analyzed the situation before replying. “How long has it been for you ?”

“Eleven years.”

“And you are what ? Twenty-two at most ? You don’t know what those people are going through. You’ve never lived your adult life being an Incomplete.”

 She looked at him and pursed her lips. “Did you ?”

“I did. I only met mine three years ago.”

“But you found yours. They could all find theirs.” She said while pointing her finger at the screen showing videos of the demonstrations.

He let out a somber laugh. “You don’t know that. Maybe their Complete are dead or not living on the same continent. You’re one of the lucky ones Hermione. Not everyone is like you.”

 She didn’t know what to answer. Hermione had never really thought about the Incomplete in that way. They stopped talking after that, they were not even looking at each other anymore. Hermione heard someone talking to her but didn’t register before Luna told her name twice.

“Hermione !” Luna shook her shoulder.

“Hey.” Hermione turned around to face her friend.

“We’re losing because you arrived late.”

 A cheeky grin grew on her face and she looked at Tom. “Told ya.” He laughed at that.

“Hello. I’m Luna Lovegood.” The blond girl extended a hand towards Tom, he shook it. “No Luna Scamander.” She let out a small laugh, she had only been married for a few months and was not used to giving her bridal name yet.

“Hi, I’m Tom. Tom Riddle.”

“You were the one Hermione fought with last week, aren’t you ?”

“Let’s not get back on that.” He smirked. “She’s going to talk about Frankenstein again after that.”

Hermione lightly shoved him in the ribs and laughed.

“See you. The second round is about to start.” Luna concluded before glancing at Hermione, inviting her to join.

“I’ll finish my beer first.” Hermione answered. Luna smiled at both of them and went back to sit at their usual table.

“You don’t want to play ?” Tom teased.

“I don’t want to be linked to a defeat.”

“You’re clinically crazy.” He laughed.

 Both took their beer at the same time and began drinking, their eyes still glued to each other. One sip turned into two, then without even speaking about it, Hermione, alone, started competing for who could finish their beer first. Tom stopped after the second sip and just stared at her.

“You’re fucking insane.” He couldn’t help but laugh.

“But I won.” She replied as she finished her entire pinte.

“It was not even a competition.”

“Says the loser.”

 Tom kept looking at her, something in his eyes Hermione had never seen before. Time felt as if it has stopped for a second. Only two people in a pub, all alone, looking at each other, enjoying a beer.

“And the blue team is the winner !” Lee Jordan shouted, bringing both of them to reality. Tom cleared his voice and turned towards the TV. Hermione left to join her friends.

 **********

 On their anniversary, Hermione and Ron had the habit of spending it with Ron’s family, at the Burrows. Molly was behind the stove, preparing the meal for a dozen people in the kitchen. The others were all gathered in the living room, chatting over a flute of champagne about the current political climate and the strikes. Angelina and Fred were sharing a love seat by the chimney, George and Veracity not far. As usual Ginny was on Harry’s lap.

Since they found out they were Complete, Hermione had gotten along well with the Weasley. She felt good with them, as if she had always been part of the family.

 “Ginny told me you’ve been late for two weeks in a row to games nights. What happened to our Hermione ?” Harry joked as he went by her side.

“Not my fault. I don’t control the tube yet Harry.” She smiled at her friend and soon to be brother in law.

“You must have been quite disappointed not being able to play with the girls.”

“Losing you mean.” Hermione chuckled. “Actually I had a great time. I drank my beer, I talked to.. to someone. I had fun.”

“Someone ?”

“Yeah, a guy at the bar. I don’t really remember. Maybe I drank too much.” She laughed. Hermione looked at Molly and whispered to Harry. “How is she ?”

“You know how hard it is for her when the entire family gathers.”

 Hermione took a step towards Harry to keep the conversation confidential. “Are we ever going to know what really happened ?”

“I don’t dare to bring up the subject with Ginny.”

“It’s been eight years since he left. I remember that day. Molly had set up the table for thirteen, then suddenly she took one out. It has always been twelve plates ever since.”

“But you remember how he was. Always secretive, sneaking out, always writing in his little notebook. Percy was hiding something, he was lying to his family. To us.”

“I know, but what I find weird is that he left without his Complete. Without Penelope.”

Molly called everyone for lunch.

“Let’s not talk about that anymore.” Harry finished.

 **********

 Ginny had invited her shopping on Regent’s street this afternoon. Hermione got out of Green Park station and saw from afar a Cafe Nero. A cappuccino sounded nice so she entered the coffee and placed her order. The small place was quite packed and Hermione settled next to the counter.

“Excuse-me.” Someone bumped into her shoulder to get to the counter.

“An americano for Tom.” The barista spoke up. The man took the coffee and Hermione opened her eyes widely.

“Tom.” She smiled. He turned around and took a good look at her. She could see in his eyes that he couldn’t place her.

“Hermione.” She offered and saw the realisation in his eyes.

“Of course Hermione. How could I not remember ?” He looked at his drink. “You want to compete over coffee this time ?”

She faked being offended and open her hand to show him she had no coffee yet.

“Oh, let me buy you one.” He offered.

“I placed my order already. But thanks.”

“Do you have time to sit down ?” He shot her a beautiful smile. Hermione looked at the time and nodded.

 The waitress called her name and Tom went to pick it up.

“One cappuccino.” He said while putting the cup in front of her.

“What a gentleman.” She laughed.

“Please keep this image of me and try to forget about the arsehole you met the first time.”

 They exchanged a smile and took a sip. “So Frankenstein. You like literature ?” He started.

“Frankenstein’s monster.” She corrected him cheekily.

“Of course, Frankenstein’s monster.”

“I liked the book, but I prefer French literature. Have you read Boris Vian ?”

“The Froth of Days ?”

“Yes, The Froth of Days.”

“I do enjoy Vian, the absurdity of the story mixed with humour and deep subjects. But I really enjoy his songs. Le Déserteur.”

 Hermione lounged back in her chair, a smile on her lips. She was not often taken aback, but on this day, in this coffee place, she was.

“Did you know that the ending was changed ? The French government obliged him to change the lyrics.” He kept going.

“Who would have thought Azkaban’s arsehole to be educated.” Hermione teased him.

“I asked you to forget about that. I am a gentleman from now on.” He whined.

 They talked about literature, their favourite books and their hidden meaning. The way finishing a good book felt like breaking up with the characters, the way turning a page was satisfactory and the way old books smelled like. They disagreed on a lot, but they could agree on that. He was easy to talk to, easy to laugh with, and easy on the eyes.

 Hermione’s phone rang on the table and she quickly picked up.

“Where the hell are you ?” Ginny asked her.

Hermione looked through the window and could see the ginger her back facing her.

“Ginny, I’m in the coffee. I can see you from here.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Give me two minutes.”

“Well, it was nice talking to you Tom.” Hermione greeted him goodbye. They both rose from their seats at the same time.

“I'll see you around Hermione.”

 Before leaving, Hermione threw away her empty cup in the bin, her mind still on the conversation she just had. On her way out, someone bumped into her, making her snap out of her thoughts.

“Was that the guy from game night ?” Ginny asked her as she looked through the window.

“Who ?”

Ginny pointed her finger at a tall man sitting alone at a table, a grin on his face.

“Oh. Maybe.” Hermione shrugged.

 **********

 Bank station at 8:30 AM was a nightmare. On top of the never ending corridors, people were all rushing, pushing each other to reach the exit as quickly as possible. People leaving the Central Line and the others trying to reach this Tube line were facing each other, only separated by a small iron bar.

Someone caught her eyes. Someone wearing a perfectly fitting dark blue suit, his dark hair perfectly styled. Someone she felt as if she knew from somewhere. Hermione just kept walking.

 Arrived at her office, she said a quick ‘hi’ to Lavender, the receptionist then reached her desk.

“What’s wrong with you ?” Lavender asked her, her elbows on the top of her cubicle.

“What ?” Hermione rose her head.

“You seem weird. You didn’t stop for our usual trash talk this morning. What’s going on ?”

“Nothing. I just feel a little spaced out.” Hermione thought about stopping there, but she kept talking. “Do you know the feeling where you feel something bothering you but you don’t know what ? It keeps nudging you and you can’t put your finger on it.”

“Have you turned off the lights this morning ? It happens to me when I think I forgot to do that.” Lavender smiled.

“No, it has nothing to do with that. I don’t know it’s weird. Forget about that.”

 Lavender sat next to her and start picking at her nails.

“So when he is going to pop the question ?” Brown smirked.

 Hermione had seen the proposal. She had seen it when she was eleven years old, the first time she had touched Ron’s hand. It was at the Burrows, in the little garden behind the house. Just the two of them and candles. It was romantic and Hermione smiled just thinking about it. She also remembered how she looked like, how Ron looked like. They were in their twenties.

 “I think soon.” Hermione replied with a small smile on her lips.

“You’re so lucky.” Lavender grinned putting her hand on top of her fists. “Cormac is not going to do his before ten years. It will be at breakfast, and he will just ask me without a ring. I don’t mind. It’s meant to be.”

 The firm’s main partner, Minerva McGonagall stopped by her desk and rose an eyebrow at the receptionist.

“Miss Brown, if I remember correctly your desk is not here.” She said in a stern voice. Lavender lowered her head and quickly left Hermione to join her station.

 **********

 Hermione had finally gone to the florist. Two weeks late but still she went. The little shop was charming and Hermione wandered around. She heard the small bell on the door ringing, announcing someone’s arrival.

“Hermione ?” She heard the florist, Miss Sprout, calling her. “Could you please check if the bouquet is in the right shade of blue ?”

 Hermione turned around and approached the counter. A tall man was looking at her, his mouth slightly agape.

“Hermione ?” He tentatively said.

“Do I know you ?” She genuinely asked.

“It’s me, Tom.”

 At that Hermione cocked her head.

“Tom.” She smiled. “Of course. How could I not remember you. Remember your name.”

“Yeah, it seems to happen a lot.” Tom nodded. Hermione could see that he was preoccupied with something.

 Miss Sprout brought a huge bouquet of blue peonies. The flowers were perfect, the exact shade of Fleur’s eyes.

“That’s beautiful, Miss Sprout. She will love it.” Hermione grinned.

The florist finally acknowledged Tom’s presence.

“Mister Riddle ! The flowers are ready, I just need a little signature and we will send them to Miss Hornby.”

 Tom shook his head to get back to reality and did as ordered. He then turned to Hermione. “Do you have time for coffee ?” He pressed.

“Hum, sure.”

 Tom opened the door and let her get out first. On the corner of the street was a little coffee shop, entirely empty. They sat down and ordered two espressos. They didn’t talk at first, they both had something to say but didn’t know how to broach the subject. Tom finally broke the silence. “Why can’t I remember your name ? We’ve met five times now. And I still can’t remember it on my own.”

Hermione looked at him, as if she was asking for his permission to talk.

“Say it.” He told her.

“I don’t remember you at all.” She stopped abruptly. “Do you take the Central Line ?”

“Pardon ?”

“Around 8:30AM, do you take the Central Line ?” She repeated.

“I do. Everyday.”

 Hermione let out a small laugh. “That was you. I saw you the other day. Well, I couldn’t remember you, but I saw that man, in a dark navy suit, and I felt as if I knew him from somewhere. It was you. But I couldn’t remember. Why can’t I remember ?” Hermione stared at her hands. “When you told me your name at the florist, everything came back. So clearly. The bar, the restaurant, the taxi, the coffee shop. Everything.”

 Tom was staring at her, feeling as lost as she currently was.

“Ginny, my friend, she remembered you. She asked me if you were the guy from game night. She remembered you. Why can’t I ?” She finally met his gaze.

“I don’t know.”

“Does it mean we’re going to forget each other after this coffee ?” She realised.

  **********

 “Hermione, are you alright ?” McGonagall asked her.

 Hermione was currently sitting in one of the leather chairs in her boss’s office. Hermione had a great relationship with her. Minerva McGonagall had been her professor at law school, then her mentor. She trusted her with her life.

 “You’ve been off lately. Is everything alright ? Do you have too much work ?” Minerva pressed.

“No it’s not about work.” Hermione finally answered. “Can I talk to you about something ?”

“You can always talk to me.” The older woman gently smiled.

“Something has been happening for a while now. I feel like something is missing. Something doesn’t feel right. I have this nudge, constantly.” She emphasised the “constantly”.

 McGonagall got up and went to lock the door. Hermione shot her an interrogating glance.

“Do you feel like you’re forgetting something ?” Her mentor asked her in a small voice.

“Exactly ! Yes.”

“Do you have lapses of memory ? Like certain memories are incomplete ? Like you remember going to the movies, but not with who ?”

“Yes…” Hermione felt her heart beat faster in her chest. “Do you know what’s going on ?”

 Minerva only looked at her. “Did you know my current husband was not my Complete ?” She finally asked Hermione.

“I thought he was.”

“My first husband was, Elphistone. He died twenty-five years ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay. I met Dougal. His Complete was still alive at the time. When we were meeting, I could remember him, our first encounter, our first laugh. Everything. He couldn’t though. But I soon as I told him my name, everything came back to him. Years later, after the death of his Complete he explained this to me. He had the feeling of something missing. Something didn’t feel right.”

“And you think this is happening to me ?” Hermione barely whispered.

“Maybe. Maybe I’m wrong. It sure looks like it.”

“But it is impossible !” Hermione got up. “I’m Ron’s Complete. I love him, we’re going to get engaged soon. I’ve seen the kids, the house. I’ve seen everything, our entire life !”

“Hermione, calm down.” Minerva gently told her. “Unplanned things happen.”

“No they don’t.”

 Minerva went by Hermione’s side and put her hand on her shoulder. “Who is he ?”

“I don’t know.” Hermione felt the tears of frustration in her eyes. “No one ! There is no one.”

“When did it start ?”

“I don’t know… One month ago ?”

“Have you told anyone else ?”

“No. Only you.”

“Good. Keep it that way.” She led Hermione back to her chair and kneeled in front of her. “I am going to tell you something Hermione. You are not going to believe me. But the next time you see him, because you will see him again, you are going to ask him one question.”

 **********

 She had arrived on time this Tuesday. Ginny even applauded when she saw Hermione coming through the door. As usual, she sat down with the girls and gestured to Cormac for a beer.

“Why do you have to tell over and over again about your future proposal to Lavender ?” He snapped as he brought her the beer.

“She asked me Cormac.” Hermione shrugged.

“For fuck sakes Hermione !” McLaggen stormed off. The five girls looked at each other and burst out laughing. She took a sip of her beer and looked around the room. Sitting at a table near the bar, she saw a man. A tall man with perfectly styled hair, elbowing at his friend. “Say my name.” He was whispering loudly. His friend was not obeying so he gave him a hard shove in the ribs.

“Tom ! What the fuck !”

 Everything came back.

 She froze. They were looking at each other, remembering every minute they had spent together.

“I-I need to go, I have a phone call to make.” Hermione mumbled before leaving the pub. Once outside she took a deep breath and looked at the sky. She felt the panic rising in her chest.

“What the fuck is going on ?” Tom snapped.

Hermione turned around and saw him not far from her, his chest quickly rising.

“Do you have feelings for me ?” She blurted out, vaguely remembering her conversation with Minerva.

“What ?”

“Do you have feelings for me Tom ?”

“I already have a Complete.” He tried to change the subject.

“That is not the question. Do you have feelings for me ?”

 He froze, his gaze stuck on her.

“Yes. I do.” He finally let out.

“I know what is happening.” She whispered. Hermione put both of her hands in her hair and pulled. “It’s fucked up Tom. It’s really fucked up.”

 The first time they met, they were almost yelling at each other. Nothing but the physical attraction between them. So they remembered a bit when they met the second time at the restaurant. Still, nothing more than physical attraction. But the third time, in the taxi, they laughed. He had looked at her in the way he was supposed to look at his Complete, and she had given a smile that was only reserved for Ron.

There was more than physical attraction, and faith couldn’t allow that. So they started forgetting. Their memory started failing them, but not entirely. There was always something bothering them. Like something was missing.

However, there is always a loophole. The names. Once they heard each other names, bright flashes came back. The memories of their encounters, the sound of their laughter, the feeling in their chest when the other smiled.

But as soon as the parted ways, they forgot again. It was an endless loop.

 The pub’s door opened and they both turned around in surprise.

“Let’s get somewhere else.” Tom took her hand. As predicted, nothing happened, not flashforward of their lives, no house, no children, nothing. Unplanned things happen. She squeezed his hand.

 They went to a small restaurant and ordered too much wine. He told her about his childhood, his drunken stories and every embarrassing thing that happened to him. And she smiled, she smiled so much that night that her cheeks began hurting.

Because tonight was the first time she learned things about someone she had feelings for instead of already knowing.

They kissed at the end of the night. Not because they knew their first kiss would happen in this dark alley near Soho, but only because they wanted to.

 They forgot that night when they went their separate ways. Hermione wondered why she was smiling and Tom why his heart was beating this fast.

 But every time they met, because they would meet again and again, they would look at each other, not knowing who the other person was but still feeling a pull towards each other. Sometimes they would not hear their names and just went their own way, other times, the good times as Hermione liked to call them, they would hear their names. She would laugh as her memory came back, the first encounter, the restaurant, the taxi, their first kiss. Then she would want to cry, because how could the universe do that to them ? Take their free-will away ? Tom would simply hug her and whisper sweet nothings in her ears. And just like that, she would laugh again.

 **********

 “Maybe we should leave.” Tom whispered against her naked shoulder.

“What ?” She smiled, not taking him seriously.

“I think we should leave. I think I’m forgetting more and more about you. Actually not only about you, but about where I was when we met, about what I was feeling on that day. We’re beginning to forget about things that are not directly linked to each other. I couldn’t remember what I did last tuesday. I forgot an entire day. I can’t let that happen. I can’t let you go. I can’t forget about you no more.”

 Her smile faltered. He put back a strand of her chestnut hair behind her ear.

“Nothing compares to you. No one compares to you Hermione. Can’t you see ?”

“Tom…”

“Everyday,” He cut her. “I wake up next to a woman faith gave me. Someone I didn’t chose. Someone I learned to love because I knew I would love her in the future. What kind of love is that ? If this is love, I don’t want it.” When Tom spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. The whisper of a love confession in the late night, only meant for her to hear. “I want you, I want what we have. I want to wake up each morning without knowing what we will do, will we get married one day ? Will we have children ? Maybe we will fight on their names or on the apartment we would like to move into. We will laugh, and fight, and love. And the best part of it will be that we won’t have any idea of what’s coming next.”

 Hermione brushed his face with her fingers adoringly.

“Tom,” She murmured. “Every morning I will wake up without knowing who you are.”

“And every morning I will tell you my name.”

 **********

 When she arrived at the Burrows with Ron, Harry was standing by the door, looking at their car. She got out and felt Harry’s gaze on her. Ron went inside after clapping one of Harry’s shoulders, leaving her alone with her friend.

“We need to talk.” He harshly said.

“Well, hello to you too.” Hermione tried to joke. “Let me say hello to everyone and I’ll be with you.”

“No, we are going to talk right now.”

 Harry took her by the arm and led her to the garden, far from potential eavesdroppers.

“What the fuck was that ?” Harry snapped.

“What are you talking about ?” Hermione was completely lost.

“About last night !” He barked. “What you told me on the phone.”

“I didn’t call you last night. I was… I was with… I-” She couldn’t remember.

“You were with him.” He looked at her. “You told me that you needed to talk to me. That you were in love. That you were just with him, that you had spent the fucking night with him. You were crying on the phone, begging the universe to let you keep this only memory of him. You asked me to talk today. To tell you-” Harry stopped.

“Tell you what ?” Hermione snapped.

 Hermione took a step back and turned around. She put all of her efforts into remembering something. Anything. A little conversation with McGonagall came back to mind, just a small part of it. Something about her second husband.

 “I’m in love.” She realised. She felt it, the warmth in her chest, the flutter of her heart. “I’m in love Harry.” She faced her friend.

“You love him but you can’t even tell me his name.”

“I’ve told you his name, didn’t I ? Tell me.”

“I won’t Hermione.”

“Just tell me his fucking name !” She almost yelled, her eyes wet with tears.

“Open your eyes Hermione. You know what you’re up to with Ron, you saw the house, your beautiful children. You’ve seen everything. You’ve got everything. You feel like you’re in love with someone else right now but you are not. It’s just a lie, a big lie. You’re in love with Ron. You will have a spring wedding, you will live in this big white house on the hill. You will have two children, Rose and Hugo. Everything you ever wanted, ev-”

“But if I don’t want that ? What if I don’t want to know everything ? What if I want more ?” She cut him. “What if I just want to live every day without knowing what tomorrow will be made of ?”

“You’re just like Percy.” He shot at her like an insult. “Yes, Ginny told me.”

 Hermione stopped talking. Suddenly, it all made sense. What happened, why he left.

“Are you ready to give up on everyone for a man you fucked twice in your life ?” Harry kept going.

“But I love him.” Hermione cried.

“No, you love Ron.” Harry took her by the shoulders and kept repeating the same sentence. “You love Ron, you love Ron.”

“Shut up.” She yelled. “Please shut up.”

“You love Ron Hermione.”

 She closed her eyes, the world was spinning around her. Her brain was about to go off, her heart was panicking in her chest, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think.

 “Calm down Hermione.” Harry said to her in a soothing voice. He took her in his arms and patted her back. “Everything is alright.”

“What is going on ? I don’t feel well.”

“You just fainted. We were talking about Ginny. I think you are tired. You should take a nap.”

“Yes, I think I should.”

 Harry kissed her forehead and led her inside. The last thing she remembered that night, before falling asleep, was loving Ron.

 **********

 “Ron, it’s a mess over here. I think it’s going to get violent soon.” Hermione said on the phone, panic evident in her voice.

“Where are you ?” Ron quickly asked.

“Westminster.”

“Do not move, I coming to get you.”

 He hung up the phone and Hermione looked around her. The protesters were all getting angry by the minutes. The signs they were brandish were not as peaceful as they were when the strikes began 8 months ago. The Incomplete were mad, mad at the government for not letting them buy a house because they had not had the vision yet, so this house could not be theirs. They were mad at the Complete for having the privilege of living a perfect life just because they had met the right person at the right time.

 “Hermione !” She could hear from somewhere behind. She tried to look around her to find Ron, but Westminster Square was packed.

A tall man with perfectly styled hair was running towards her. He took her face between his hand and simply said his name.

 Everything came back.

 “We need to leave. It’s going to get violent here.” Tom said in a hurry. He took her by the hand and led her through the crowd.

“Tom, Tom wait.” Hermione pulled her back. “I’m engaged.”

“What ? I can’t hear. We need to get you somewhere safe.” He kept moving forward.

“Tom !” She yelled. He stopped and turned around. “I got engaged.”

 Tom stared at her, his heart slowly breaking in his chest. “You need to make the choice right now Hermione.”

“So do you.”

“I already made it.”

 People were pushing, stomping on her feet, screaming slurs at the politicians, and she could hear her name being called by Ron from afar.

“You, always you.” She said in a hurry, feeling like time was collapsing. She didn’t have to think, it was a foregone conclusion.

“We leave tonight. No. Right now.”

“I can’t do that, I need to say goodbye.”

“You’re going to forget about me Hermione. I won’t let you do that. Something is wrong, I keep forgetting you more and more Hermione, and I think you do too. I feel like if I leave with you right now, I will lose you forever.”

 Hermione could only agree with what he was saying. She opened her bag, her hands shaking, and took out a pen.

“Write your name on my hand. Quick do it.” She ordered him.

“What ?”

“Write your name !” She shouted.

 Tom took it and started writing.

“You’re here.” Hermione saw Ron coming her way, her stomach was in knots, her eyes were wide open in panic. Her Complete took her by the arm and pulled her back. She felt the pen leaving her hand and Tom’s face. He tried to reach for her but people were blocking the way.

“Hermione ! Hermione !” Tom kept yelling as he saw her being taken away. He ran after her, trying to find a way through the crowd.

“I won’t forget your name. Hermione. Hermione.” Tom pushed people, without caring about anything else but her. “Hermione, Hermione. Your name is Hermi-”

 Someone violently pushed him on the ground. His head violently collided with the ground, leaving him unconscious for a couple of seconds. When he woke up and rose to his feet, he searched in the crowd.

“No, no, no. What’s her name ? No, no, no.” Tom could feel the memories slowly slipping away.

   He first forgot about the feeling of her hand in his. He forgot about how she chose him you, always you. He forgot about the way she looked at him when they were laying in bed. He could see the memories of their first time together slipping away, the softness of her skin under his fingers tips. He forgot about the dozen of restaurants they tested throughout London. He forgot about the day they rode bikes in Hyde Park. He forgot about all the small bookshop he took her to. He forgot about their dates, their jokes, their constant banter, her clothes, her perfume, her smile.

He forgot about how he tried to talk to his friends about her, getting frustrated as he couldn’t recall a thing. How his friends looked at him as if he was crazy. Then their first kiss, the taste of her. He forgot about the florist, when they realised something was wrong. He forgot when they first talked about literature in a coffee place near the Ritz, how her eyes glowed when he talked about Boris Vian. He then forgot about how he teased her at the restaurant and when she let him go first because he was already late for work. He slowly forgot about the first time he met her, the way she shouted at him, or when he draped his coat on her shoulders. Finally, he forgot about her. He forgot everything concerning her.

 “What am I doing here ?” He wondered out loud.

  **********

 “Easy, easy.” Ron soothed her. Hermione slowly opened her eyes and found herself sitting on her couch, in her house. She couldn’t remember how she got here, why Ron was kneeling in front of her, a worried expression on his face.

“What happened ?” She slowly slurred.

“Don’t move, I’ll make you some tea, love. Do you need anything else ?”

“No, I have everything I ever wanted.” She smiled lovingly at him.

 He kissed her forehead and left for the kitchen. Hermione slowly rose and went to the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror and put her hair in a bun. As she lowered her hands, she caught a glimpse of her engagement ring. She smiled at the memory of the Burrow’s garden, the candles, and Ron.

 She turned her hand around and saw something written on the palm.

 I love you. T

 She furrowed her brows trying to find out where this came from. She couldn’t remember. She simply washed it away.

 _____________________________________________________________________

For those who read DDM, we didn't abandoned it. We are current writing Chp 16 BUT it's a pain in the arse (not going to lie). We'll try to post it as soon as possible.

[yukippe]

you will have memories because of what we did back then

ginny doesn’t think twice about going back to school.

so she does.

-

it starts on a summer day. things always start in the summer - is it the humidity? is it the magic boiling underneath the skin of all the underage students away from school?

but which summer day did it start? the summer day when ginny’s eldest brother was married? the summer day when her ex boyfriend was born and a prophecy twanged? The summer day when the boy from the second year diary got his hogwarts letter?

the summer she spent in a sickly house in london with a runaway convict and a mishmash resistance?

the summer before her seventh year she had five brothers - she had six once, and she’ll dream of having six one day - and all five of them told her to be safe. (the sixth did too, the one she pretended wasn’t hers. he sent her a letter that said to be safe, that told her to think about homeschool for her last year. she burned it.)

she didn’t listen to any of them. one brother had already joined the cause, one was recruiting in foreign countries, two more were doing their own type of resistance, one with laughter. the last had known it would come to this since his first year when he became the best friend of the boy-who-lived. her parents are happy to think of at least one of their children at school. they’ll try to wrestle her out of it throughout the term.

ginny goes back to school. she has her own cause to keep alive.

-

there were children born before the last war - or the first part of this one - and they’re mostly grown now. there were children born during the war, and they’re the ones fighting this one. and then there’s her. ginevra weasley. the first weasley child to be born to peace.

but was she?

she’s done five years of school. her sixth doesn’t really count as schooling, per say. in her first she’s possessed, in her second dementors move into her school, in her third a death eater takes the face of her defense teacher and a boy dies, in her fifth the ministry took their turn and carved scars into her hands and she joined a militia her boyfriend ran and she snuck into the department of mysteries and another man died and she dueled with her life on the line for the first time.

peace seems impossibly far away. peace feels like another fairytale from a barely there childhood. she remembers her years tucked away. with all six brothers, and two parents safe. but, even then every holiday there were two missing spots at the dinner table for a different set of troublemaking twins she never got to meet.

she is supposed to be the first set of children born in peace. they forget that for children to live in peace you have to defeat more than just the bogeyman - the parents must defeat their own demons before they fight off their children.

-

on the first of september there is only one redheaded weasley waiting to board a train. in her brother’s bed at home sleeps a ghoul sick with spattergroit. every other brother sleep in homes with walls of fidelus charms.

did you hear about-yes that's her-wait is he coming this year-huh?-wands taken-filthy mudb-death eaters teachi-weren’t there always look at sna-headmaster??him??

the last weasley left sees a blonde willowy girl and a stocky brown haired boy waiting in the crowds. she doesn’t meet their eyes, not yet. first she finds the firsties. it’s easy enough to spot them, the few that have made it to the platform this year have nervous parents holding their hands.

she finds them, shakes parent’s hands, loads trunks, brushes hair back. then she tells them all a secret.

a little girl with two black braids stares up at her, a cat napping in her arms. ginny gives her a chocolate frog and whispers, “if anything happens go to gryffindor tower and ask for fawkes.”

the girl repeats back the words, “i’m looking for fawkes, please.” they smile and the girl squeezes her hand and as ginny goes to leave the compartment luna’s there waiting with a dark skinned girl with a pink pygmy puff.

ginny stands next to luna and they watch as the firsties sit next to each other. they practice saying a word, quietly. they whisper, “i’m looking for fawkes, please.” back and forth. ginny’s toes are turning cold. luna grabs her hand and when the firsties start talking about which house they’re dreaming for the two walk away. neither will be sorted into gryffindor, as long as they listen to the warnings they were given when they got onto the train.

the house of the brave isn’t safe this year.

-

they say it’s hard to leave school because you spend most of your life in it. before ginny turned eleven she went to the muggle school down in the muggle town. she learned her maths and how to play muggle sports and ate her snacks and when she came back her dad quizzed her on everything she learned.

muggle primary school was a different kind of magic than hogwarts, looking back. it had been safe.

on her first day of sixth year, ginny goes to the welcoming feast and when one of the carrows, one of her new teachers, passes by he spits on her. neville wipes it off with his napkin and seamus sets his on fire to make her smile. she does, because she’s a target. It means she shouldn’t have to play safe. she’s never been any good at that.

there are three gryffindor firsties. a boy and two girls. parvati and lavender each sit a girl next to them and tell them jokes. colin creevey shows the boy how to work a camera after he makes sure the boy eats enough.

gryffindor is a long, empty table. four seventh years, five sixth years, four fifth years, seven third years, two second years and three firsties. twenty five lions in robes of gold and red in the entire hall. they all sit at the end of the table, closest to the door and farthest from the professors that are a little too hard to trust this year.

-

the fall semester does it’s best to bruise.

-

there is a boy with a scar and two friends by his side that are on the run. they’ve been on the run since the summer. since a wedding with two kisses - one from the bride and groom and one between a boy prophesied to die and his best friends sister. the first kiss was a beginning. the second was an end. i open at the close. the boy sleeps in forests and hunts bits and pieces of souls that sing like the one in his skull. he dreams of green light, and his friends dressed in red, and a mentor with half-moon glasses falling off the astronomy tower, and running through the ministry to see his godfather slip into an archway he can’t walk back through. sometimes, maybe, he dreams of the kiss. the goodbye kiss? or the kiss in the common room, after their win? or all the ones in between? or maybe not.

-

sprout sits down her ravenclaws and her gryffindors and breathes deep. once. twice. then she begins. the sixth years learn different things this year. they learn how to grow walls, how to set traps, which plants can kill, which plants will heal, the type of things you can find in forests that are safe to eat if you were to find yourself camping - or on the run.

this year herbology is a class on how to survive. neville longbottom stands by her side and tells his friends with forests have the best trees to climb to hide in, and which ones have streams with clean water, and which ones they shouldn’t try because the risk is too big. at the end of class sprout watches him sink into a seat next to his two closest friends and they all hold each others glove covered hands. sprout lets them be and brings her third years to a different greenhouse.

when she leaves neville sinks further into his seat. ginny watches him and thinks, what if i hadn’t come back?

-

romilda vane screams in her sleep. she wakes ginny up at least once a week. There’s only one other girl in their dorm room, and she charms her curtains quiet. ginny knows the spell, but at least one thing that her mum tried to ram into her head stuck, when people are hurting you help.

ginny and winky have come to a hot chocolate smuggling contract. if ginny calls for her at night winky brings her three mugs with cocoa and marshmallows. one for vane, one for ginny and one for winky. when vane wakes up there's something there to cheer her up, and winky catches ginny up on the gossip she’s heard. she writes it down because she won’t be able to remember it to tell to neville later otherwise.

winky hears what the hufflepuffs whisper when they sneak down to the kitchens, her eyes happen to glance over the notes the ravenclaws pass when she cleans their rooms and the slytherins talk freely in front of her, spilling their secrets without care, for, what difference does a house elf make if they hear something?

“the carrow’s are going to start practicing unforgivables,” winky passes along. ginny’s skin seems to tighten, just at the thought of the cruciatus. she thinks of neville at christmas, visiting his parents. she thinks of the lightning scar on her ex-boyfriends forehead. she thinks of the death eater in year 3 who made her backflip over a desk. ginny drinks her hot chocolate, thanks winky, and waits for vane to wake up.

-

little maddie jordan, ravenclaw 3rd year, whispers a secret into luna lovegood’s ear on october 3rd. by october 7th every da member at hogwarts knows the first password of potterwatch. river remarks on a beautiful first turnout over the airwaves. ginny sinks into the cushions of a conjured red couch in the room of requirement, neville and luna’s arms wrapped around her and she bites her lip as she hears riot advertise weasley’s wizard wheezes. it’s one thing to know your brothers are fighting in a war while you do your best to mind your business at school. it’s another to hear them help their best friend read off a list of the dead.

-

DUMBLEDORE’S ARMY IS STILL RECRUITING.

in her very first year at hogwarts ginny tried writing in a diary. she had a terrible encounter with a piece of tom riddle’s soul and at the young age of eleven was possessed. one of the horrid things her tiny first year self was forced to do was right terrible things in blood on walls. on every wall she once stained her hands red defacing with voldemort’s words, she now covers in bright gold paint with a new set of words.

DUMBLEDORE’S ARMY IS STILL RECRUITING.

luna gets the idea the third week into school and neville finds them the paint and ginny picks the walls. the three of them cloak themselves in disillusionment spells and write their messages during the witching hour. with gold flecks in her hair and splotches on her clothes, ginny beams up at her walls. now, she feels like she’s come back to school for a reason.

kids come asking in the morning, only a few are dumb enough to ask one of them directly, most of them know by now to ask friends who will ask friends who will ask friends. hannah abbott sits next to neville two mornings later with a list of hufflepuffs ginny watches lily cho show luna a charming doodle, when luna shows it to ginny later she sees that the lines of the sunflower are done with names of ravenclaws from first to seventh year that would like to try their hands at fighting back.

the gryffindors pass her notes in class, or come up to her in the common room with shy smiles, or catch her on the quidditch pitch. by the end of the week twenty three of the twenty five lions at hogwarts have their names written in neville’s record book in the room of requirement.

-

on halloween three little boys with ties of yellow and black knock on gryffindor tower and ask for fawkes. a group of upper year boys in robes trimmed in green and silver practiced unforgivables on them in front of professors. parvati and lavender wrap them up in blankets and romilda vane sneaks down to the kitchens with her friends to fetch hot chocolate.

ginny weasley and neville longbottom won’t hear about this until the next day. they are a little bit busy trying to steal the sword of gryffindor with luna lovegood.

the sword is on display. it’s in a rectangular glass box, on display as if it’s a piece of art or really special relic in a museum. the sword is ancient and all, but something about it makes ginny’s skin crawl. the last time she saw that thing, she was half dead and it was in the hands of harry potter, stabbing a diary and a basilisk and filling her lungs with air again.

the sword of gryffindor shouldn’t be in the hands of snape. luna grabs her hand and squeezes it, luna’s practically got a seventh sense for knowing when ginny’s out of sorts. ginny takes a deep breath and nods. the three of them are still standing in the doorwar, right in front of the stupid eagle that let them off. ginny steps forward, pulling luna with her to stand in front of the sword.

“so,” ginny asks. “how do we get this pointy bastard out of here?”

luna smiles at her, “we could ask the paintings if there’s a key or spell, but then we’d have to wake them up after we went through all the trouble of charming them to sleep.”

ginny looks up at the walls of slumbering former headmasters. normally, theres at least ten or so blatantly eavesdropping, but luna wove some fancy spell to keep any of them from reporting back to snape. “hey neville,” she says. “any ideas?”

there’s no answer for a few seconds. ginny turns back to see neville staring, almost frozen, at the glass case with gryffindor’s sword. “nev?” luna asks.

“are you sure that the paintings can’t see or hear us?”

“as sure as a wringlesquitz.”

Neville nods. Then he walks up to the glass case, lifts up the broom he’d been carrying and smashes it nice and hard against the glass. luna and ginny jump back a bit and then the ringing starts in her ears. oh. fuck. the three of them meet eyes and then ginny lunges forward and picks up the sword. it doesn’t feel quite right, but she ignores it. luna spots a window and the three of them race over to it. ginny pulls her broom out of her pocket and luna enlargens it and they both jump on. neville moves to open the window when the eagle crows at the other end of the room.

fuck. snape’s caught them in the act.

that night while three badgers are fed and have their wounds wrapped the three students that told them to ask for fawkes are stuck doing detention in the forbidden forest.

they’d been dragged out of snape’s office with nothing but detention in the forbidden forest with hagrid. it should be more. even before snape was revealed to actually be the worst and one of voldemort’s followers, his detentions had always been laced with a level of cruelty. luna holds her and neville’s hands and asks hagrid about the different creatures in the forest. it almost feels as if it’s not a detention at all.

-

they chose fawkes as the firsties password because the da had died with sirius black. but this year it had to come back. it had to come back to keep the first years safe and to keep some sort of light left on hogwarts. hogwarts has always been a castle with walls to keep those inside safe from the outside. this year, and all the years ginny could remember to be honest, the sickness and evil came from teachers. ginny hadn’t known dumbledore very well, but his death should mean something. his name did mean something.

few people knew the name of dumbledore’s phoenix. ginny knew because the bird had helped save her life when she was eleven, hopefully it would help save all the eleven year olds at hogwarts this year, too.

-

in november the da starts having meetings again. thirty badgers, twenty eagles, and all but two of the lions at hogwarts find themselves in the room of requirement. two slytherins have been given the rings neville made up from some strange plant. the snakes have their names written up in neville’s list of records and every da member knows not to hex them too bad, but it’s not safe for them to be up here. to know everything.

not one member has to walk through the school like they once did in ‘95. neville’s asked for passageways to every common room, ones that only he or luna or ginny can open. the passageways are a little too short to make sense, but their existence is already nonsensical enough. ginny asked luna about it once, when neville first requested them and the room bowed over to fill his every want.

“oh, but gin it’s magic,” luna smiled, her freckles sparkling in the candle light. “it doesn’t have to make sense unless we really want it too.”

the castle is cold, so neville asked for the room to be warm like the greenhouses still are. the room gave him glass walls fogged up too much for anyone to see what lies behind. during the day sunlight bleeds in and lights up the room, at night candles line the walls and lamps hang in convenient spots and a fireplace is found burning low.

the floor was hard and stone, so neville asked for cushions and sofas and more. when the three of them started falling asleep over plans they woke up to blankets covering them and pillows beneath their heads. luna teaches neville how to embroider the nicest ones when nev’s too stressed to get more work done. ginny tries to tidy up the cushions a bit and sleep the floors and water the plants neville drags in.

by the time the da makes its way in, the room’s started to be a bit of a home. everyone helps move the furniture to the walls, the walls that seem to have expanded once everyone trickled in, and they plop all the first years who’ve used their passwords onto the hammocks and ply them with exploding snap and quidditch books. and then they plan, and practice and breathe.

by midway through november another ten students have found their way into the room and susan bones has gone and named this version of the room fawkes’ nest. the name prompts some of the fourth years into helping the first years do a big mural of the phoenix himself on one of the stone walls.

neville tells luna and ginny one night, after they’ve seen all the other students back to their common rooms, that the room’s never been so pleased. it’s never been so scared either, but it’s so terribly happy to be doing some real good.

ginny hugs the two of them breathless at that. this. this feels good again.

-

if she didn’t go to class her mum would be disappointed. her mum’s heard of some of the things she’s gotten up to this year, and she isn’t happy. she’s proud, of course, but ginny knows her mum thought that going back to hogwarts meant she wasn’t going to be fighting in the war. her mum’s always been a dreamer when it came to her, but ginny supposes she should at least try to do the things you’re supposed to do at school.

the only classes she has with luna are herbology, runes and astronomy, the rest she’s got on her own. there aren’t many kids left in her year and ginny’s trying to take classes that will actually help in case she doesn’t end up playing for the harpies the year after next. so, she goes to classes by herself and does her work as well as she can and does her best to remember everything her teachers connected to the order right on her marked papers.

a day will go like this:

breakfast is spent barely awake, finally getting going when seamus sets something on fire.

1. herbology with luna and sometimes neville. luna frets over neville if hes there.

2. ancient runes with luna, ginny does her best not to scream when she gets it wrong

3. ginny volunteers to be tortured in dark arts so she doesn’t have to cast any unforgivables. unless she manages to trick one of the snakes into volunteering. then she hexs them until carrow gives her detention

4. slughorn praises her average potions skill because she’s the best of the six kids in the class

then there’s lunch. most of the time ginny’s spending it in detention. when she’s not she sometimes sneaks off to flirt with one of the cute hufflepuffs in her year or the year below. luna eats with lily cho and her ravenclaw friends at lunch and neville spends it in the greenhouses with sprout.

5. ginny does alright in transfiguration, all the gryffindors in her year are still in the class because mcgonagall is the only professor that plies them with points for anything they do. ginny doesn’t even lose points when she calls mcgonagall minnie.

6. that’s charms. charms is really defense now, flitwick puts them through the paces of a dueling club and pushes pushes pushes for them to learn how to cast non verbally. he tells them they’ll need it soon.

7. ginny has care of magical creatures with hagrid. it’s nice, she’s always liked the idea of wrestling beasts. her mum blames charlie. charlie blames mum.

8. this is the blessed spare. if she’d bothered with divination for another year she’d have that, but ginny’s trying to get helpful courses. not nonsense.

then there’s dinner. neville, luna and her take turns sneaking food from the kitchens and they bring it up to fawkes’ nest. then they curl up on a cushion or couch around one of the tables with plans and names and numbers and rings and they try to come up with something to do.

8. Before they fall asleep luna and ginny trudge up to the astronomy tower and listen to professor sinistra teach them about the skies. ginny’s fingers itch for a quaffle.

it’s better than it could be. ginny knows it won’t last forever. she holds luna’s hand when she can and she brings vane cocoa when she has nightmares and she takes care of firsties and tries not to think about her brother and her friend and her ex boyfriend off fighting voldemort.

-

it doesn’t last past the train home for christmas.

-

luna had the window seat because she likes to look out every so often when she gets tired and it just makes ginny’s head dizzy. neville had the other side because he has long legs and he needed a nap.

luna was whispering star names into ginny’s ear, her breathe warm and ginny’s ears embarrassingly red. ginny can still hear her voice. “gin, oh gin isn’t cygnus just the prettiest? i do love swans. i think i’d like a swan in a pond you know. what about you, gin?”

then they were pulling luna out from her. ginny doesn’t remember that much, she knows she didn’t let them at first and that neville woke up but it was so fast and she tried so hard and-

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

ginny’s hands twitch for the rest of the train ride, neville tries to hold them but his hands don’t fit the way luna’s did.

-

when they pull into 9 ¾  neville has to get help from some of their friends to pull her off the train. neville carries their trunks, but he puts pig and trevor and arnold firmly in her hands. her hands cling to them. she won’t let go of them like she-

her mum is smiling when she spots her, but it doesn’t last long at the sight of neville and lavender and lily and susan. the four drop her off at her mums feet and neville asks for trevor, but she doesn’t hear it at first and then it’s

“hey ginny, can i have trevor?””ginny, can i have trevor?””can i have trevor?””i have trevor?””have trevor?””trevor?trevor?trevor?trevor?”

ginny blinks. “of course.” then she hands trevor over and collapses into her dad. bill is next to him and he picks ginny up and carries her out. she doesn’t remember what happens after that.

-

at home it’s better. pig is let out of his cage and fred and george make fun of arnold and even fleur isn’t that bad, she brings fresh cookies. bill gives her a hug every time he sees her and her mum doesn’t let her out of her sight.

ginny thinks of luna and she-

she doesn’t think of luna. she thinks of hogwarts and she wonders how she’s supposed to get through runs and astronomy without luna-

she tries not to think of luna. she eats and she unwraps presents and she beats her brothers when they race on their brooms in the yard. dad, mum, bill, fleur and the twins whisper at night. order business.

-

hello we have a new guest today. her name is rover!

hi river, it’s nice to be here and seeing the magic instead of just listening for once.

you’re a listener? aw shucks rover.

oh you know, a little stream got me hooked.

ha! alright everyone, rover’s here to give us an update on the hogwarts situation. she’s either a student, a teacher, or just in very good contact with someone there! so rover, how is it?

well, dumbledore’s army is still recruiting so you know they aren’t taking things easy up there. a good thing too, the carrows have turned defense against the dark arts into just the dark arts and muggle studies is now basically pureblood propaganda. so, if you’re a hogwarts student and you think you need a helping hand ask any of the upper years with the flickering green vines on their fingers for fawkes and that should help.

thank you, rover. i’m sure glad i’ve graduated but we’re all worrying for you. and- i’m sorry for the incident with ms lovegood especially.

oh i - thank you river.

for those of you that haven’t heard, luna lovegood, the daughter of xenophilius lovegood, was kidnapped off of the hogwarts express on her way home from christmas because of mr lovegood’s honest words in his magazine the quibbler. keep them in you heads. Now thank you again rover.

of course river!

and now, for the list of the missing.

-

ginny goes into town and she learns that the muggles have sent a robot up to mars. and that before that they sent one up to the moon. the muggles call these robots rovers. they’re supposed to send back pictures and watch over the planets.

-

her aunt muriel comes by. her mum's christmas cards this year asked everyone to stay away because of the son sick with spattergroit in the attic. aunt muriel comes anyway. she pokes and prods and says fleur is too skinny and that charlie needs a girlfriend and which one of the twins is dating the girl and which one is seeing the boy.

(the answer is neither because they both have their heads up their asses, but that isn't the point.)

she clicks her tongue at ginny’s jeans and asks, “oh what’s the fuss about calling her a girl if she’s just going to keep wearing trousers?”

all of that is expected. it’s awful and horrid but it’s expected. and then aunt muriel drops a sixth brother sized bomb.

“oh, is percival not coming?” she smiles her shark teeth. “when he wrote me back last week, he was the one talking about missing christmas dinner. i’d so hoped to see my favourite of your brood, molly.”

when ginny came around there were six brothers waiting. bill was the oldest and had to help the most, ginny was a bit of a chore for him. him and charlie, both. but, the two of them had both scurried off to hogwarts before ginny was more than three. the twins teased her and tormented her until she was old enough to get them back to get them off her back. and ron was more of a friend and playmate than an older brother.

ginny only has five brothers now. but when she was little, the older brother who took care of her was percy. he took all four of them to the pond and to the muggle village and taught ginny how to bake brownies and helped her read her first book. he was a bit of a prat at hogwarts but he wasn’t all that bad. he wasn’t all that bad until he and dad screamed at each other and ginny lost her older brother. percy was the one to call her gin first.

maybe-maybe ginny would let him come home for christmas. but he doesn’t really want too, she’s sure.

-

fred and george wake her up on the 1st of ‘98 as soon as the sun rises. then they drag her out of bed by her arms and cram her into her coat and carry her down to the frozen pond and lace up her skates before she’s fully awake.

ginny pushes them both over and they grin back at her, fred chasing her one way and george the other. they tackle her into the snow backs and they stay there until their pjs start to get soaked.

george can do a couple of jumps and ginny learned a spin or two from luna. fred just throws snowballs at them and skates around them. the three of them laugh and laugh and laugh.

they start ‘98 as best as they can. then their mum comes down and yells at them, but she’s smiling.

-

there is no red headed weasley waiting at platform 9 ¾ because there is no blonde willowy girl there to hold her hand. a general boards the train without his seconds. still though, one will be waiting in the castle to greet him and the army when they arrive. 

ginny floos to hogsmeade and mcgonagall walks her to school, “things will be worse this term.” 

“things already are worse.” ginny’s hands twitch. she has no brothers to keep her busy and no mother to keep her eyes on her.

-

but she has a friend and an army to help. fall bruised, and winter burns.

-

january twists and turns and all she hears are whispers and screams. she listens to potterwatch in fawkes’ nest. friends ask her about rovers. she wraps her hands, still twitching. she goes to class and the carrows crucios open the words she once carved into her skin when a sorry excuse for a teacher made her. 

things always start in summer, always happen on halloween. winter break is a refuge. when you return from break the trees are gone and every menorah on every house table put away. but- the pine needles are still on the floor and when you look at the table the candle wax hasn’t been wiped down yet.

professor sinistra tells the newt class that the black lake is frozen enough to skate on. ginny glides and twirls and pictures her brothers with her. she glides all the way down to the middle of the lake and stops. here, underneath, is the giant squid. her hand reaches out - for luna’s hand. but luna’s not there. she skates back and hides her skates underneath her bed.

-

in february ginny and neville start setting up permanent corners in fawkes’ nest. they’re hiding their first years now. winky had warned her months ago. but last night she had a worse twist on it. 

“the carrows are going to start practicing unforgivables on first years.”

hannah abbott, ginny weasley, lily cho. three students, three houses. they’ve all volunteered to sleep with the firsties this week. next week it’ll switch. but ginny knows it won’t be needed for long, they won’t all be able to stay out in the halls and in the classrooms if they’ve already started hiding firsties. 

ginny puts the cots and blankets and chests by the fireplace for now. then - oh shit. “nev?” she calls over. “we can’t keep raiding the kitchens and how’re we gonna feed them?

neville pauses where he’s setting up a table for the first years meals. “oh.” he stands up straight. “fuck uh. hey room? do you think you could help us feed the firsties?”

that’s when the passageway opens. ginny’s jaw tightens. neville looks back at her, “i guess we should follow it.”

“no,” ginny says. “i’ll go. you need to find bathrooms and we don’t know what’s down their. i’ll send sparks if i’m in danger.”

neville looks all worried at her, he fiddles with his cuffs and sighs. he knows how stubborn she is and he knows he does need to find some sort of bathrooms. “don’t be dumb, all right?”

ginny squeezes his hand when she passes him on her way to the passageway. she’ll probably be a bit dumb, but she’s a bit dumb to be at hogwarts at all right now. 

-

dumbledore’s brother ends up smuggling food to dumbledore’s army. 

-

neville and ginny take the third week with a fourth year ravenclaw. the ravenclaw’s fallen asleep underneath the three eleven year old lions. neville’s already taken a picture and tacked it to the pictures on the wall with the phoenix mural. ginny sighs back on the old red sofa they’ve had since september. neville collapses next to her and squeezes her hand. ginny closes her eyes, but she doesn’t like what she sees behind them. she opens them and pulls neville back to his feet, ignoring his grumbles, and they dance the same dances they had to learn for the yule ball she made him take her too. neville laughs into her shoulder. 

they taught the younger years how to dance for valentines last week. ginny’s still never danced with luna. the two of them keep dancing to no music. 

-

she starts having tea with mcgonagall. mcgonagall even smiles when she calls her minnie sometimes now. they start on the 1st of march. on the 17th of march minnie hands her back a marked essay at the end of tea with a note hidden in a code in the notes. 

luna’s safe. lunassafelunassafelunassafelunassafelunassafeLUNASSAFE. it takes ginny three minutes to get that out of the paper and she hugs mcgonagall tight and races out the door. and then she calmly and slowly makes her way to gryffindor tower where she calmly and slowly slips through the passageway and up into fawkes’ nest and then she screams it for everyone to hear, “LUNA’S SAFE!” and when everyone else jumps up and screams back - then ginny starts crying happy tears. romilda vane even tackles her in a hug. 

later, neville will comb through her essay and laugh, bright and loud. “hey gin.”

“yeah?” she asks from where she’s sprawled, sort of twisted up in a hammock as some second years giggle up at her. 

“you, uh, kinda missed something after you saw ‘luna’s safe,’” neville looks as if he’s trying not to smile. 

ginny rolls her eyes, “what’d i miss?”

“harry, ron and hermione are with her at your brother bill’s, they’re all safe.” that’s when the hammock untangles and drops ginny onto the floor, right on her face. they’re all safe. 

the second years fall over each other laughing at her.

-

easter comes. less students go home for easter, but mcgonagall pushes for her to head home so neville helps her sneak out of the castle and out of hogsmeade and fred and george are waiting there to apparate her out. she waves to neville and makes him promise to stay safe. the both have them have gone into full time hiding with classmates smuggling them work. ginny doesn’t want to have to repeat a sixth year. 

-

ginny goes to move out of fred and george’s arms to run up to the door of the burrow - but then she realizes it’s not the burrow. “no,” she says. 

“oh gin,” george says, frowning. “we thought you’d known.”

the families at aunt muriel’s. they’ve gone into fucking hiding and they’ve dragged her out of the hiding spot where she’s doing something to the one where she’s as useless as a gnome.

-

everything blurs together. it’s less than a month spent in aunt muriel’s home, but it feels longer. 

-

fall bruised, winter burned and spring itches. 

-

on may 1st her rings burns in one pocket and less than five minutes later her ring tightens around her finger. it won’t release until luna, ginny and neville are all their to untie the one around neville’s finger. she winks at her brothers and jumps into aunt muriel’s fireplace before any of them can try to keep her out of the fight. her fight. as the fire turns green she hears muriel say, “oh molly, you’re daughter’s always been a firecracker.” 

aberforth nods at her, almost smiling, “you’re the first so far.”

“it’s gonna be a long night,” she tells him. she doesn’t know the truth in her words yet. then- the fire crackles again and she turns around to see luna. luna steps forward to meet her and ginny almost tackles her in a hug. 

then they race through arianna’s portrait, ginny showing luna the secrets she missed and they trip out into fawkes’ nest. their army is waiting. their army tugs them forward, she almost loses luna but then their hand’s link together and luna squeezes their hands and - now. now ginny can breathe. she might die tonight, but she’s held luna’s hand one more time. 

-

when harry walks in the room quiets down. the first year’s don’t know him, but everyone third year down has been forcibly evacuated. neville pushed for fifth year down but then they all reminded him he’d gotten into the ministry with fourth years just two years ago. he let it be. ginny’s heart had twanged. some of them will die. 

but then harry’s walked in and he has a plan. he meets her eye and she wonders if he thought of her. she’s barely thought of him, he left her. she built a better army in the walls of the castle than the one he’d left behind his fifth year. luna squeezes her hand again and she squeezes back. 

-

her mum really tries to keep her from the fight. harry looks as if he’s on her side and ginny wants to puke, but she gets out anyway. she doesn’t wish she hadn’t gotten out, but she wishes there wasn’t a fight in the castle’s halls as she trips through a battle. she can duel and she does and she sees glimmers of her friends and she does her best to breath and she thinks she understands what neville said months ago when she falls into a suit of armour and it helps her back up.

hogwarts wants to help. 

-

the night doesn’t seem to end until it does. she makes her way to the great hall and when she does a count she finds six brothers standing. six brothers. her hands itch and then percy’s lifting her up and fred and george are crowding them and bill and charlie are laughing and ron’s tugging her back down to hug her solid. she turns to smile at her mum, disbelieving and her mum is sitting next to her dad and- her dad doesn’t have any legs. just as quickly as they’d all gone up to hug ginny they all rush over to their dad’s side. but - he’s alive. thank everything he’s alive

-

later, ginny finds luna and they go to count the fallen rings neville made them. they haven’t seen neville yet, but if he was dead their rings would have all fallen apart. dumbledore’s army is only two thirds here with so many other years safe and away. still, they find too many rings. 

-

harry potter is dead. harry potter is dead and this sick creature who once snuck in and out of her mind is smiling. luna lets go of her hand and ginny does her best to not look as if she’s terrified at the loss of contact, but she doesn’t have the strength to link even their pinkies anymore.

but then - he’s alive. harry potter. the boy who lived, the boy who brought down voldemort, her ex boyfriend, the gryffindor quidditch captain, the founder of the da, a 17 year old wizard. 

a 17 year old wizard that survived. ginny breathes in and out, and later this will be the part she doesn’t remember. 

-

the next thing she does remember is peace. not peace, not yet. but a breath of air. harry potter finds her and his smile is hopeful and ginny smiles back, but not in the same way and then - there’s luna behind him. she walks up to ginny and harry takes a step back and then she says, “gin, gin you’re okay.”

“you’re okay,” ginny says, just as relieved. 

and then luna grabs her hand and when she squeezes it, ginny leans in and luna’s leaning in and they’re kissing. it’s the easiest thing they’ve done all year and ginny feel’s luna’s smile underneath her own lips. 

-

ginny goes back to school the next year, because it’s her school. and her girlfriend’s coming with her and they have to make sure that the firsties know that there’s a room where they can go when they’re worried. they won’t ever sleep there again, but if they need a hug from an upper year all they have to do is ask for fawkes. 

-

hogwarts purrs all through ginevra molly weasley’s seventh year. but, when summer comes it lets her go.

everything seems to start in summer. and the rest of ginny’s life is no different. the sun burns and her hair is fire and she is safe and she is going to finally live in a world of peace one day soon. 

[alindakb]

Letters to my Parents - Saturday 16 July 1993 - by Alinda

Saturday 16 July 1993

Dear mom and dad,

I’m back at the Dursleys and the summer holiday is not even halfway done and I already want it to be done. As soon as I had come home Uncle Vernon had locked my spell-books, wand, cauldron and broomstick in the cupboard under the stairs. I have a lot of holiday homework I need to get done, so this was a big problem. And don’t be mad, but I picked the lock of the cupboard the first chance I had and grabbed the books I would need to do my homework. And now I study in the middle of the night. At least Hedwig is allowed to fly outside this year, so I can send and receive letters from my friends.

The last weekend at school was the best of the entire year. On Saturday morning Draco had to participate in an impromptu Quidditch match against Gryffindor. I went to watch it with all my friends and it was very exciting and fun, having both Gryffindors as Slytherin friends around me, screaming at each other in a friendly manner over the game. Ron and Greg are both very enthusiastic about Quidditch. Hermione and I just laughed at them half of the time for their crazy accusations of foul play. Blaise didn’t seem to be interested in the game at all and was talking with Daphne about summer holidays plans. Halfway to the game, Neville, Seamus and Dean joined us on the stands and joined in with the cheering for their house team.

I love watching Draco play. He’s really good and looks so beautiful on a broom. And now even more since he stopped putting so much grease in his hair and it falls more natural around his face. Mom, dad, I’m sorry, I’m hopelessly in love with him.

In the end, Slytherin won the match and Draco came to greet me with a sweaty kiss before heading to the showers. Daphne and Hermione wooed us and started laughing. Ron looked like he had just witnessed a murder being committed to the amusement of his brothers Fred and George (who are on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but didn’t seem all that upset with losing, their captain Wood, on the other hand, walked away with an angry scroll as soon as the game was finished because Terence had caught the Snitch). Come to think of it, that was our first kiss in front of others, I hadn’t realised until now. I wonder if Draco thought about that.

When Draco came back all showered and cleaned up we spend the rest of the afternoon hanging out on the stands until it was time for dinner. During dinner, we all sat down together at the Gryffindor table this time and Blaise his friend Luna (who’s in Ravenclaw) and Ron’s little sister Ginny joined us. We almost all eat together now, either at the Slytherin or the Gryffindor table. I hope we keep doing that when next year starts. It’s good to see everyone getting along. And even better is the fact that nobody cares that Draco and my hand are entwined non-stop. I miss his hand in mine here at home. I miss him a lot. He hasn’t written to me yet and he said it would be better if I would wait with writing to him until he was sure his father wouldn’t destroy my letters before he would be able to read them.

That last Saturday, Draco and I also had a party for our birthdays in the evening. It was a big success. All our friends came and Terence had enchanted a gramophone to play music non-stop. Fred and George had somehow managed to steal food from the kitchens and we danced and eat till it was time to go back to our common rooms because of curfew. We also took the time to open up all the presents our friends had gotten us. Hermione had gotten me a Broomstick Servicing Kit, with a large jar of Fleetwood’s High-Finish Handle Polish, a pair of gleaming silver Tail-Twig Clippers, a tiny brass compass to clip on our broom for long journeys and a Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broom-care.  I know Draco was a bit jealous when he saw how happy I was with that present. The others had gotten me books about Quidditch or writing supplies. And Daphne had gotten me a scarf in Slytherin colours. Draco was also happy with his gifts that also included books about Quidditch, an identical scarf as mine and hair products. We ended with the gifts we had gotten each other and I was very nervous when I handed mine to Draco. He unpacked it and just stared at it for a long time without saying anything and I was afraid he didn’t like it until he looked at me with tears in his eyes saying it was perfect. According to Hermione, it was so cute to see us smile at each other like the world was perfect.

I had asked Dean to make a drawing of Draco and me. He draws with normal Muggle pencils, so the pictures don’t move, but he captured us in a happy perfect moment. And I’m so happy that Draco likes it. He said he will keep it under his pillow all summer so he can look it every time he misses me and can’t sleep because I’m not in his arms.

And his present for me was also perfect. My last letter I had to scrawl the last lines on the back cover of my notebook since I had ran out of pages and Draco has bought me a new notebook. It’s from a Muggle store, to make sure there would be no evil spirit in it to hurt us. And Draco has decorated it with magic so the cover changes colour according to my mood when I pick it up. It’s really awesome and just what I needed. He also got me a quill and ink set to write with. Hermione told me it’s a really expensive set and that I should cherish it. I told her that even if had been the cheapest quill in the world it would still be the quill I would cherish the most.

Before I knew it, it was already the 1st of July and we were on our way back to London with the Hogwarts Express. Our little group shared two compartments, walking in and out of them since one was too small to hold all of us. Daphne and Hermione are starting to become friends, talking about things girls find interesting and we boys don’t care about. We played Exploding Snap and practised disarming each other by magic. And at some point, Draco and I left them all alone to find an empty compartment so we could kiss some more before we would reach King Cross. I just hope it won’t be our last kiss for a long time and that we can find a way to see each other this summer, or at least that Draco will come back to Hogwarts in September and I can see him again. I wish he would write to me and tell me how things are going at his house.

Draco didn’t want to leave the train when we arrived at King Cross. He was afraid to face his father. He had written to his mother about what had happened in the last weeks of school and he hadn’t heard back from her and that scared him. It’s not normal for his mother to not write back. I told him that everything would be okay, that I would still love him even if he would go to Durmstrang. That we could write letters if that would happen and that we would find a way to see each other. What I didn’t tell him, was that I dread it just as much as him if we would not be at the same school anymore and that I’m scared of losing him over all this. Letting go of his hand before we stepped off the train was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, not knowing when I’ll be able to hold it again. But I need to believe we will be okay. I need us to be.

I still have bad days, where everything just seems to be too much. Draco gives me the strength to face those days and without him here, well some days I don’t leave my room at all. The Dursleys don’t care, they are happy to see as little as possible of me. Miss Davis has given me some exercises to do this summer that will help me fight the negative thoughts. She says they are Muggle techniques, so they don’t acquire me to use magic. I have to write down all my negative thoughts I have in a notebook she has given to me and then write behind them why they are not true and what I can think about instead to make it better. And I also have to write down when something good happens, so I can remember all the good things in my life when I’m having a bad day. I haven’t written down a lot of things yet since I’ve been mostly just been alone here. Writing down the negative thoughts is easier until I have to figure out why they aren’t true and what I should think instead. But I’m trying and that is all Miss Davis asked of me.

I’ll keep you informed of how my holiday is going and will let you know as soon as I know how Draco is doing.

Love you both,

Harry James Potter.

[likehandlingroses]

What You Love

Summary: As Harry already knows, a tremendous amount can happen in seventeen years. But the seventeen years after the war bring him something he once never thought possible: contentment. (Inspired by “Daylight”--Taylor Swift)

Read below or on Ao3

~

“I want to be defined by the things that I love. Not the things I hate, not the things I’m afraid of, not the things that haunt me in the middle of the night...I just think you are what you love.” 

1999

Harry’s hand hovers over the pastries in the breakroom. He shouldn’t...but then, it is Clara’s birthday--

He snatches up a pumpkin pasty, repulsed the utter banality of his own thoughts.

Ron pops in beside Harry, scooping up a muffin without hesitation.

“Lucky thing we’re on desk duty this week.”

“Is it?”

Harry still fights with himself other whether or not he’s simply become another Ministry shill. Too complacent and far too forgiving.

“Hermione’s starting tomorrow,” Ron says, grinning. “Remember?”

And with Hermione joining them for lunch every day, things don’t feel as out of place as they did before.

~

2000

The Monument to the Fallen at the Battle of Hogwarts is up within six months of the war ending.

Harry’s fight to memorialize the Order of the Phoenix is trickier, and in many ways more painful. The old guard is hesitant to legitimize the organization--and even more hesitant to admit their past mistakes.

But Harry--who still averts his eyes in certain halls of the Ministry, who does anything to avoid being the last to leave for the evening--refuses to relent.

He almost smiles when he first sees the incredulous looks of the crowds as they notice Sirius’s warm, lively grin.

~

2001

Harry collects the letters he finds in Grimmauld Place--under beds, in dresser drawers, even under mattresses--in a box up in his attic. Every so often, he’s tempted to read them: after all, what does it matter to Sirius now?

But each time he opens the box and procures a faded letter off the top, his desire to read the words wanes.

That they exist at all is the main thing. That Harry or anyone else might someday decide to sit on the attic floor and pore through each and every line justifies their existence.

He won’t today. But someday, perhaps.

~

2002

Ginny flies in a dramatic loop on her broomstick, playing to the crowd as the Harpies conclude another shut-out.

She could play for England, if she had a mind to.

“I know that,” she tells Harry. “But international play is a nightmare.”

In any case, she’s a star right where she is. In the sanctuary of the Harpies stadium, Harry has more than once been summarily ignored while Ginny is shouted down for her autograph.

“Besides,” Ginny says with a coy smile. “It wouldn’t be quite fair for me to run off and become more famous than you, would it?”

~

2003

Harry still can’t quite believe Dudley said yes to the invitation. Tea or lunch is one thing...an entire wedding--wizarding style-- is quite another.

But it’s now well into the second hour of the reception, and he’s still here, making passable conversation with Oliver.

“Alright?” Harry asks, joining their table.

Dudley nods, but Oliver leans forward in his seat, looking manic.

“He suggested swimming for conditioning,” he says, as if he’s just handed Harry vital trade secrets. “No one’s doing that! I’m telling Reynolds on Monday...”

Harry shoots Dudley a knowing grin, and Dudley ducks his head with a laugh. 

~

2004

“--we’re here with Harry Potter, who has brought along a very special guest to the program. Harry, would you please introduce us to this lovely fellow who is currently eating his own fist?”

“Thanks, Lee. I have James Sirius Potter with me today, making his airwaves debut.”

“I was talking to James before the show...he was just babbling away.”

“Well, he gets very excited sometimes.”

“Is that the best part of being a dad?”

“No, the best part is he’s got this tiny little nose, and you can just...boop it whenever you want.”

“You heard it here first!”

~

2005

Percy tosses the agenda on Harry’s desk. “They’ve put it on after all.”

Harry scans the list in disbelief. The proposed legislation to officially close the Ministry’s Werewolf Registry and reopen its services under the umbrella of St. Mungo’s would be heard by the Wizengamot a week from Tuesday.

“But how--? We’ve been trying for months to get it in front of them....”

Percy smiles, rolling his shoulders back. “Well, I’ve been putting in words with some of the more established members...I don’t know if that helped at all…”

Harry laughs, shaking his head.

“We both know it did.”

~

2006

“He has the prettiest eyes,” Mrs. Weasley coos over Al, bouncing him on her knee as he gazes up at her intently. “Arthur, just look at his eyes! Aren’t they stunning?”

Ever the doting grandfather, Mr. Weasley drops down beside his wife, eagerly agreeing that he’s “glorious,” before reaching out a finger for Al to grasp in his fist.

“They’re just like his daddy’s,” Mrs. Weasley says, smiling at Harry. She’s not the first to mention how much Al looks like him.

It makes Harry all the more grateful that Al won’t ever need to wish for love or family.

~

2007

“Can you help me, Harry?” Teddy doesn’t normally bring Andromeda’s schoolwork over to Harry’s, but today he’s already kneeling at the coffee table, quill and parchment in hand.

“Well, I can try,” Harry says, sitting down beside him. “But if it’s division again…”

“No, none of that!” Teddy says with a grimace. “I’m learning about persuasive essays now, and Gran says if I write a very good one, we might be able to get a cat!”

“A cat? Well, that’s serious business, isn’t it? We’ll have to go about it carefully…”

And with Harry’s help, Teddy wins his new cat.

~

2008

“Skeeter will be poking her head in where it doesn’t belong once I’m gone,” Elphias Doge says, pressing a bundle of letters at Ginny, his wizened face beaming. “And what do I care what anyone says, really? Only I detest the woman, and if you got the story out first...oh, the look on her face!”

The ink on some of the letters has almost faded, but the most important piece remains.  The valedictions: effusive, undeniably romantic...with “Albus” signing his name to all of them.

“It’ll be out before she’s decided which stone to turn over first,” Harry promises.

~

2009

“Daddy!” Alice Dursley pulls on Dudley’s hand as the Potters gather at the door. “The present!”

“Yes, right! Before you go…” Dudley hastens back through the house, emerging with a carefully wrapped package.

“Alice helped me with everything…” Dudley presses it into Harry’s hands. “Even the paper--”

“--and the bow!”

“And the bow.” Dudley smiles in the face of Harry’s bemusement. “For Lily’s birthday next week. I’ve meant to get the dates straight for years...but I’ve got this calendar on my phone now, and...well, anyway. I’ll remember now.”

Lily hugs her teddy from “Duh-dee” the whole way home.

~

2010

“D’you suppose they might only let me on the team because they feel sorry for me?” Teddy asks as he and Harry settle on the grass.

“Of course not.” Harry shades his eyes from the sun before looking off into the distance. Ginny is still trying to teach Albus how to mount his training broom…

“What about because you’re my godfather?”

Harry claps Teddy on the shoulder. “Listen: if you make it, it’ll be you’ve got a great arm and a sharp eye.”

“You really think so?���

“I really do.”

Teddy beams at Harry before lying back on the grass.

~

2011

“Oh, she’s beautiful--hi, Harry!”

Despite Parvati and Hermione’s smiles, Harry feels as if he’s intruded. He’s used to finding Hermione poring over something or other when he enters her office: she even spends her lunch hour wrestling through her Beedle translations.

“Padma’s baby came Saturday!” Hermione explains.

“I have pictures!”

Harry hasn’t considered before that Hermione’s move from Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures might have been motivated by something other than her career progression.

Now that he thinks of it, he understands why Hermione’s joined half of the DA in Magical Law Enforcement.

They make the work more worthwhile.

~

2012

“No! No kids behind the bar,” Hannah good-naturedly prods James out from behind the counter at the Leaky Cauldron.

“Even me?” James says, fixing Hannah with a doe-eyed stare.

“ Especially you,” Harry quips, patting the stool next to him as Hannah fixes James a consolation soft drink. “Sorry about that, Hannah…”

“Oh, I don’t mind!” Hannah pauses to tie back her hair with a colorful ribbon. “Only if the wrong person comes in and I’ve got an eight year old with his paws on the firewhisky…”

“What’s firewhisky taste like?” James asks.

“You’d hate it,” Hannah and Harry both say.

~

2013

“--so that’s where we put all our files for uhm...anything that needs filing.” Harry taps the filing cabinet next to his desk, looking into his nieces' rapt faces. Molly and Lucy are with Percy for the day, and “Uncle Harry’s work” is a key portion of their tour.

Harry privately thinks nothing could be duller for two little girls than exploring different people’s desks.

“Does it ever get full?” Molly asks.

“Er--sometimes.”

“So you get a new one?” Lucy’s eyes are wide as she scans the wall, perhaps picturing mountains of cabinets.

“Sometimes. Mostly we just toss things.”

“Wow!”

~

2014

“He’s going to do it!” Fleur grips Harry’s shoulder from her seat behind him as the crowd roars and Viktor closes in on the Snitch. “He has to, after all this time, he--YES!”

Harry hugs her first as their box cheers the Bulgarian victory. Fleur apologizes for the tears she’s burst into, but Harry’s own eyes are stinging.  

Viktor throws his arms around both of them upon landing in the VIP box, tears still running down his cheeks.

“He would be so proud,” Fleur says, calling Cedric to mind so powerfully that they might have been children fighting dragons again.

~

2015

“And this one doesn’t like parties because she’s shy…” Lily sets her stuffed rabbit in front of Luna. Harry’s warned Luna about Lily’s “tea parties”--how they involve more profiling of stuffed animals than tea.

“Well, some people are like that, aren’t they?” Luna says agreeably.

“Yes,” Lily agrees. “And this one--she’s so funny, but she doesn’t eat anything green.”

“Not even green sweets?”

“No!” Lily says conspiratorially, whereupon Luna puts on a shocked expression.

“But how does she get her vitamins?”

“Uhm...carrots and the sun, I think!”

“Oh, well, that’s alright, then,” Luna says before smiling at Harry.