#ginny is so silly

[lovebotmo]

like the movies

chapter four - the feathered visitor

series masterlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader

wc: 1675

author's note: so so grateful that you guys are enjoying the story so far!!! its been incredible to be inspired and motivated when it comes to writing. i appreciate those who let me know they want to be on the taglist - lmk if anyone else wants to be added!!!

also if i missed someone my apologies!!! first time putting a tag list together hehe

song inspiration: how sweet it is (to be loved by you) by marvin gaye

Clambering into the compartment containing your friends after separating from Theo, you are greeted with expectant silence. Ten eyes peer at you with varying emotions; curiosity, caution, surprise, excitement, and intrigue all seem to swim in the faces of your dear friends.

Slapping your hands onto your knees, you smile nervously at them. “Well, what is it?”

“Don’t keep us waiting!” urges Hannah, who’s practically vibrating with excitement. “What was that all about? Running after Nott of all people.”

Your brows furrow unconsciously, “What d’you mean?”

Ginny laughs at your apparent confusion. “Nuh uh, Y/n. We all saw you go after Nott, no need to be coy now.” She winks cheekily at you. “Are you two seeing each other?”

You sputter at her brashness, “Me and Theo? There’s—”

“It’s Theo now, is it?” Padma asks. “When did he become Theo, eh?” Padma nudges your shoulder with her own.

“Oh, shove it, Pads!” You could practically feel the red rising in your face and neck at the undivided attention now being paid to your very short, tiny, essentially minimal interaction with a male specimen. You felt like a research subject whenever your friends interrogated you like this. “I was just worried Theo was going to miss the train—a very normal thing to be worried about considering he’s my potion partner and I bloody well can’t use his brain if he’s stranded in Hogsmeade! Besides,” you said, pulling at the sleeves of your wooly sweater, “that fight between Malfoy and him looked downright awful.” At that, the girls abruptly halted their aggressive probing, uneasily remembering the spat that had taken place very publicly in The Three Broomsticks. All, except for Luna, who continued to peer at you with that typical all-knowing, dreamy look of hers that seemed to suggest she knew better.

As if there’s anything going on between Theo and me. I barely know the guy…or almost barely know him…kind of know him?

Shaking the disorganized thoughts from your head, you turned to the girls to continue the conversation that had abruptly stopped at the tavern. A train ride filled with trolley sweets, gossip, and uncontrollable laughter soon led to your arrival at Hogwarts, just in time for the evening meal.

Retiring to your room shortly after dinner, you found that your housemates’ beds were empty. You guess that they were likely meandering around the grounds before curfew. You savored the silence and stillness of the room. However, all too soon, it was interrupted by an odd sort of sound.

Clink.

At first you ignored it, thinking something had just shifted in your room.

Clink…Clink.

This time, your eyes swept across the room, searching for whatever could be causing that sound. It didn’t sound like a water drip, someone in heels, or even coins moving around in a coin purse.

Clinkclinkclinkclink!

As the sound increased in volume and frequency, you realized it was coming from the window of all places, even though you were elevated relatively high in the tower containing your bedchamber. That is to say, no person could have been outside your room without the aid of a broom or the flying charm. You cursed under your breathe that the window was glazed, meaning you couldn’t see what lay on the other side. Undergoing a momentary crisis of whether you should open the window, you decided in a split-second to just open it and hope for the best. However, you made sure to grab your wand.

Can’t be too careful now, can we, Y/n?

Your hand grasped at the brass handle, quickly swinging the frame open. An autumnal evening gust of wind greeted you, along with something else.

What. The fuck.

Perching on your windowsill, was a quaint tawny owl peering at you rather oddly. The bird cocked its brown and white feathered head as you did the same.

What the devil is a bloody owl doing up here?

“I don’t suppose you intended to come up here, did you?” Looking at the owl, you noticed it was clutching something in its claws, a small parcel of sorts. “Is that for me?”

As if answering, the owl flew past you and landed on your desk. Its head cocked once more as if wondering whether you were going to join it or not. Realizing you were standing dumbly in front of the window and letting all the warm air out, you shut it. You did not lock it, however, anticipating that your feathered friend would be departing shortly.

You joined the owl at your desk, sitting in your chair. You were now eye level with the mysterious bird, its dark eyes gazing into your own.

“May I?” you inquired, gesturing towards the little package in its clutches. The fowl relented, gently releasing it onto the wood of your desk. Before allowing yourself to rip into the bundle, you pulled out a small cannister of crickets you kept in one of your desk drawers for when you visited your own owl in the aviary. Lightly placing it in front of the owl, you allowed it to treat itself while opening the unknown gift.

Inside, you found a small package of caramel creams, just like those you had gifted to Mr. Flume a few short hours ago.

“How…?” You looked to the bird who was still pleasing itself with your offering of crickets.

You couldn’t begin to wonder at who would have known to gift you that particular candy, who would have noticed your quick interaction among the thick throng of students that had filled Honeydukes earlier. No one had stood out to you in the little time you had spent in the candy store, wholly preoccupied with your candy exchange.

Where could they have even bought it from? It’s not like Mr. Flume even stocks this specific sweet, no matter how much I may beg the man to.

“You must have been flying for ages to bring these to me, I reckon.”

“Hoot.”

Laughing at the short, clipped response of the owl, your eyes noticed a small piece of parchment paper within the parcel. Grasping and opening it quickly, your eyes were met with the same script you had seen on the previous note that had accompanied the moly bouquet currently residing on your nightstand. Once more, the note was succinct and saccharine.

Y/n,

Sweets for you, sweetheart.

Yours,

Teddy

“Seems your owner fancies me,” you said to the owl as you carefully refolded the note. “I don’t suppose you would be able to give me a clue as to who they are?”

“Hoot.”

Sighing, you replied, “Alright, alright. I won’t badger you for answers.” You rose from your chair, intending to allow the plumed messenger to return to the aviary. The bird flew from its perch on your desk to your shoulder, its head gently rubbing against your cheek. You smiled at the little show of affection. Once more, you opened your window, allowing your avian visitor to rejoin the skies. Looking back at the caramel creams and clutching the note to your chest, a warm feeling began to leak out of your heart. Whoever your admirer was, he was rather…sweet.

A few caramel creams later, you were sprawled on your bed and surrounded by your friends as you recounted the entire rendezvous with the tawny owl. You shared the sweets among your friends, but you kept the contents of the note to yourself. Your friends had already seen the first note and none of them had recognized the handwriting. There was no harm done, really.

Besides, you thought, it’s kind of nice to keep something between just me and this elusive ‘Teddy.’

“You didn’t recognize the owl, did you?” asked Ginny. “Godric knows everybody can tell when I’ve sent an owl. That bloody bird, Errol, is hard to miss.” She gives you a vexed look that makes you chuckle.

“No, it looked like any other owl I’d have seen in the aviary. Anyway, there are hundreds of owls here, they’re not exactly easy to differentiate.”

“Well,” Padma says, “at the very least, we know that your little admirer is a third year or older.”

Hannah’s face shows her confusion, “How do you figure?”

“They were in Honeydukes, weren’t they?” Padma shrugs, “Whoever he is, he has to be, at minimum, thirteen years old to go to Hogsmeade.”  

Groaning, you flop back onto your bed, hands covering your face in dismay. “Blimey, I hadn’t even considered it might be someone younger than me. What if it is a third year? Fucking hell, I’ll never be able to live it down.”

Moving your hands from your face, Hermione smiles gently at you. “If it is a third year, which I seriously doubt, you’ll be gentle in letting them down. No big deal.”

“I’d be a laughingstock, ‘Mione,” you say grumpily.

“No, you won’t, Y/n,” replies Hannah. “Besides, it’s just the six of us that knows, right?”

“About that…” Ginny looks at you sheepishly. “I may or may not have possibly, accidentally let it slip when I was perhaps…potentially talking with Lavender…”

The redhead’s confession gets you to shoot up quickly from your horizontal position. “You did what?” You toss at a pillow at her, which, with her incredible athleticism, she easily intercepts. You frown. “Lavender is possibly the worst gossip I’ve ever met. I’d be surprised if Filch didn’t know about it.”

“It was an accident, promise!” Ginny exclaims, “Lavender asked if you were seeing anybody—I think she’s interested in Lee Jordan—so, I suppose she was trying to determine whether or not you were—”

“Ginny.”

“…Yes, Y/n?”

“I’m going to give you until the count of three.”

“Count of three—what for?”

“One.”

“Oh please, Y/n. I didn’t mean to—”

“Two.”

“For the love of Merlin—”

“Three.” At your last count, you sprint at the girl who starts to run from you as you chase her with your wand. She sharts to shriek with laughter, dashing as far from your incurrent wrath as possible.

“You’re going to get it, Weasley!”

taglist: @melllinaa, @randomgurl2326, @lovelyygirl8, @abaker74, @mypolicemanharryyy, @vanevafu, @laceandsuch, @agent-tempest, @themarauderswife7 & @adoraspace

[chwlips]

Had a really funny idea and needed to draw it😼

[finneyneilperrykisser]

I'm no longer on break 🥀🥀

[graceofgondor]

THE MOMENT WE'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR... ✨charginny textpost part two✨

part one

[g3othermal3scapism]

lesbian ron and harry but its the plot of bottoms. obviously harry is josie and ron is pj, then ginny as isabel, lavender as brittany, and hermione as hazel. lupin is marshawn lynch

[keepofkandrakar]

silly concept where this one muggle-born kid whose last name — out of literal, pure coincidence — happens to be black (or any other of the noble house names bc god forbid people share the same last name and aren’t at all related). this is finds out they’re a wizard and goes to hogwarts and the whole wizard community is all like “omg a resurgence of the noble house of black!” and is absolutely freaking out over it meanwhile this kid is like “wtf is happening i just found this shit out two hours ago—”

[how-the-feathers-have-fallen]

Me, fighting tooth and nail against my irl friends who are sw*fties: yeah well, maybe I want my sad girl music to have a 3 minute guitar solo and distorted audio after the second verse of vaguely gay lyrics have you considered that ?!

[goodluckdetective]

My cat likes to rotate where she sleeps at night which is quite funny because of how widely it varies:

1. On her kitty tower, living the dream

2. In a box I filled with a blanket and pillow for her

3. Curled next to my bookshelf on a random piece of carpet

[twotimefromforsaken]

Holding hands:]

[vintageseawitch]

people who like or even love Draco &/or Lucius Malfoy but claim to dislike or even hate Severus Snape just... confuse tf out of me. like or dislike any characters all you want but just... don't come near me with such a garbage take 😅

[purblesun]

She's so cute!! I love her...

[fazcinatingblog]

It's not like I can be like "look, this has been fun and all, but let's call it quits because I think Tony likes me back" right???? I'm not doing that

[ihavenointerestinreallife]

family relations | 18+ mdni

everyone knew that where fred went, george was right behind him; even if nobody could tell them apart half the time, two identical ginger boys always signaled trouble. 

when you showed up–someone with a stark difference in look to the two boys–it immediately raised an eyebrow. while not rare to see the two twins apart, it was a sight to see them accompanied by someone other than another member of their family, often at least. 

with the amount of nosy students at hogwarts it didn’t take long until someone got curious. 

“she’s just a part of the family,” george would say. 

“she’s like a sister to us, really,” fred would add not long after. 

— 

holidays with the weasley family were always chaotic to say the least. it seemed every year a new person stayed for christmas in the burrow, most notably in recent years harry and hermione joining their best friend ron–this year, the family home saw you as its new addition. 

the weasley family home had been filled to the brim since the birth of ginny, and the addition of companions only brightened it with more love. 

on christmas morning, everyone who didn’t own one already (or miraculously lost their original) received their first of molly’s many knitted sweaters, all personalized with their first initial. you’d never forget the first christmas you reunited with the twins wearing their own sweaters. 

“did mrs. weasley make those so she could remember which of you is which?” you asked. 

“mother says she could never forget who is who, which i guess is why i’m wearing his sweater, and he’s wearing mine,” fred would reply. 

when the day came for you to receive your own, the twins had visibly outgrown the jumpers you first saw them in, instead adorning new pairs to fit their growing builds. 

“molly, it’s beautiful! i dreamed of the day i’d get my own,” you said, running your fingers along the woollen fabric. 

“i’m glad you like it dear- and look, now you match freddie and georgie.” 

your head whipped in the direction of the two boys to confirm her words, and she was right. you matched fred and george from the overall blue color to the yellow letter. 

the way they looked at you then, you knew you could get used to matching sweaters. 

— 

you were purely friends with the twins up until your shared sixth year when they went to the yule ball with angelina johnson and katie bell. sure, the way they looked at you for the past year and a half had you questioning everything you felt for them. and sure, having them next to you at every given moment–closely, at that–made you think things friends wouldn’t dare say out loud- but this was a whole new level. 

molly had sent all the hogwarts attending weasley children outfits to wear to the ball; ginny a bright pink and mint gown, ron a very explicit hand me down likely of bill or percy’s, and the twins looked dashing in their matching suits. but you knew they could look even better, each hanging off one of your arms. 

instead you had the pleasure of watching both fred and george dance multiple rounds with their dates, while you sat next to harry and ron, also bummed out by how terrible the evening had gone. 

“they wanted to go with you, you know.” 

you jumped, turning your head to hermione who seemed to be itching to escape the crowd. 

“don’t be silly hermione, we’re just friends.” you muttered as you chewed on your lips, effectively removing them of any color you stained them with. “besides, you saw how eager they were when they asked angelina and katie in potions.” 

“or they were just trying to tease ron, you know how brothers are.” hermione looked at you with pity, as if there was someone she had hoped would ask her to the ball as well. 

the moment you decided to guess who she’d hoped would have asked her, your eyes scanned the crowd for either fred or george. it was futile for a second, until on either side of the floor you noticed both twins sneaking a glance back at you, both still occupied in dances with their dates. 

“hermione,” you began, tone laced with shyness despite how loud the music drowned your words out, “how would i know if my feelings surpassed friendly?” 

— 

it only took a day for feelings to be admitted by all three parties, only taking half of another for you to find yourself sandwiched in bed by both of the twins. robes had been discarded by the door, and you weren’t even sure you’d be able to find your scarf considering how long it had been gone. 

the boys sat knee to knee with you straddling both their laps, george to your front and fred to your back. they worked together to pull your hair off your neck, and then to unleash your tie from its collar, effectively exposing your bare skin to them. 

it didn’t feel real when the warmth of fred’s lips ghosted your skin, not even a semblance of it when they finally latched on. the amount of times you dreamt of them touching you intimately could not have prepared you for the feeling. 

“does it feel good when he kisses you like that?” george teased knowing you wouldn’t be able to catch your breath in time to reply. 

“yes georgie- fuck,” you moaned as fred bit down and sucked like a man tasked with marking you as his own. “freddie, people will see..” 

“let them love, they’d put the pieces together soon anyways.” he bit down again only a couple inches away from the first love bite, effectively securing the notion of nosy onlookers creating their own story to tell off. 

and tell off they would when every week new patches would show on your neck. the twins took turns marking you in places just indecent enough to turn heads, but not enough to solidify any real narrative about the three of you. 

a couple of weeks of people swearing they saw you snogging both twins at once in the gryffindor common room had at least one person becoming bold enough to ask you how you really felt about fred and george:

“they’re like my brothers, really.” 

— 

happy valentine’s day

[wisteria-blooms]

P A R A D I S E // P O T I O N S!

PAIRING: Bill Weasley & You  WARNINGS: smut!! so much smut!!, oral (giving, receiving), piv, sex pollen trope, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, creampies, all the makings of a bad porn plot **MINORS DNI** SUMMARY: As per Percy’s recommendation to his mother, you’re tasked to house-sit the Burrow while the family is away for the Quidditch World Cup. You’re Percy's closest friend and much like him, you are more than wary of his mischievous twin brothers, Fred and George. But what if their machinations lead you to something you’ve always dreamt of coming true? (8.0k words)

A/N: Been going through a bit of writer’s block recently, so hopefully a load of debauchery (as big as Bill's) breaks down that wall. I’ve been mad at how my sentences are coming out—they sound so redundant and boring. Also, I’m not great at editing my smut scenes because I get embarrassed reading them, so enjoy at your own risk. ;)

PARADISE POTIONS!

There was an undeniable feeling of late summer that nestled in the morning air, a pleasant marriage of warmth and wind. As you trekked up a tall, grassy hill, you breathed it all in. You were in disbelief that August had snuck up on you so suddenly. That meant only two weeks left of freedom before you were confined to a cubicle in the Ministry of Magic, wasting your life away.

‘It won’t be so bad’, you reminded yourself. After all, Percy Weasley would be there alongside you in the same department. He was your most supportive and reliable friend, contrary to popular opinion. And it’d been him that pitched the idea that you house sit the Burrow while he and his family were away at the Quidditch World Cup. Apparently, he’d told Molly that you were mature, responsible, and ‘very much like him.’ You had to tease him about the compliment he threw in about himself. 

Molly would provide you room and board for the next week. Your tasks mainly included upkeep of the garden, feeding the animals, and ensuring the home didn’t seem completely empty as the whole family vacationed. Molly simply hated to keep an empty house. 

“Good morning, Perce!” you greeted with a wave when you reached the tip of the hill.

He waved back from the main entrance. Then, he motioned for your luggage. 

“How was your journey?”

“Uneventful,” you affirmed. “Though the walk up was great exercise. I feel very much awake now.”

“It’s quite the trek,” he agreed.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the orientation at the Ministry we had last week,” you gushed. “I’m so excited to start work.”

“Me too,” Percy agreed with a nod. 

“Mum would like to have you in for a spot of breakfast,” Percy said.

“I’d be delighted.” You heard excellent things about Molly Weasley’s breakfasts. 

Percy held the door open for you. The windchimes sounded from above you, signaling your entrance. You brushed past a fluttery overhead curtain. When the material unveiled itself, you came face to face with a long dining table. There were only six occupants: Ginny, Ron, the infamous Harry Potter, Hermione, Charlie, and Bill. You gave a small wave to the younger kids. They nodded wordlessly. You reckoned that in their eyes, any friend of Percy’s must be some masochist deviant. 

To the side, Arthur was chatting with who you supposed was Amos Diggory, combing through their plans. 

“Good morning, (Y/N) dear,” Molly greeted. You were glad she thought of you just as prim and proper and organized as her third-eldest son. 

You took a seat with Percy. He sat where his newspaper and coffee mug laid, right in front of Charlie. With a nervous smile, you sat to his right and…

Your eyes immediately landed on Bill. He was Percy’s eldest brother, and by far the most handsome. You were embarrassed to admit that you’d always fancied him. Not in the soul-crushing-adult-love kind of way, but in a silly schoolgirl way. He was so tall, so subtly muscly from sports. And he was a little more fun than Percy, though you’d never tell him that. 

But given that you were so young, there was no viable chance of anything happening. So, you chose to admire him from afar in the two years you overlapped schooling. You were now eighteen like Percy, but you maintained the fact Bill still saw you as a child, nothing else. It was an infatuation that would hurt no one, so you just let it be. 

“Good morning, (Y/N).”

You suppressed a smile as he acknowledged you. 

“Good morning, Bill.”

“Good morning, (Y/N),” sang Charlie. 

You smiled. “Hi, Charlie.” Charlie was quite the handful. You preferred Bill’s calmness than Charlie’s calamity. 

“I see it’s you who was tasked with watching our house,” Bill said. “I couldn’t have chosen better myself.”

“Thank you, Bill.” That compliment was going into your pocket for a rainy day. 

Bill was still ever so handsome, appearances aging like fine wine, with his soft ginger locks that framed his sharp cheekbones. His blue eyes glinted in the morning sun. You peeked at his chiselled jaw and his—dare you say—kissable lips. His t-shirt barely hid the muscles in his arms. He might’ve been tall and predisposed to being lankier compared to Charlie, but you knew he had his own ways to keep fit. 

You were so busy being entranced by Bill that you’d lost track of time and space. All you knew was that it was the best morning ever, sitting in front of him, surrounded by faint windchimes and the chirping birds outside to the window. Breakfast hadn’t even been served and you were already salivating thinking about Bill doing push-ups under the hot Egyptian sun, and that wasn’t even that deep in the gutter where most of your thoughts laid, in fact—

Suddenly, a large explosion reverberated through the house and shook the table. It jolted you and Percy. You yelped and ducked. When you regained your sense of place, you looked up. No one else besides you and Percy were fazed. 

“What was that?” you asked Percy, trying to settle your heart. 

“Fred! George!” Molly cried, walking over to the stairs with her spatula still in hand. “What have I told you about your experiments?”

“Sorry, mum,” George said, running down the stairs, a smidge of ash on his face. “That’s it for today, I promise.”

“I don’t want to hear this again, ever!” Molly shrieked. Then, she calmed down when she realised she was in front of guests. “Well, if that’s it, then help out a little bit, won’t you? We have to get going in less than an hour.”

“Sure thing,” George said with a smile. He ran over to the table and to the coffee pot. He gave it a jiggle, letting the remaining liquid slosh around. “Anyone need a top up of their coffee?”

“Mum made that pot, you can trust it,” Percy advised.

“Thank you,” you whispered back, and then looked up at George, “I wouldn’t mind a cup.”

George sauntered over and poured you a cup. “Coffee, Bill?” he asked. 

“That sounds good,” Bill responded.

“You’ll have to wait another ten minutes then,” George said with a frown. He tapped the empty glass container. “I’ve just run out. If only (Y/N) didn’t drink for two.”

“Quit it,” Percy warned his brother with a low tone. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. You were about to offer Bill your cup when Percy held out a hand to stop you. 

“Keep it,” Percy countered as she shoved the white mug back to your side. “I wouldn’t trust anything they put out. I’m glad it’s you that took the last of what mum made.”

You kept your voice quiet and giggled. “I hope Bill has an iron stomach, then.”

Percy nodded. 

While Percy could be harsh on his siblings, you were grateful for his looking out for you. To be fair, you were also skittish around Fred and George. They weren’t as easy to read as other people. A friendly smile often meant something sinister. 

“Would anyone like some liqueur in your morning beverage?” Fred asked, skipping three steps as he ran down the stairs. He reached underneath his coat as if selling contraband. “I have whatever tickles your fancy. In fact, Georgie and I have been working on something we reckon will be extremely profitable.”

Molly shot him a glare. You shook your head politely. 

“Don’t feel like you have to respond to his foolishness,” advised Percy. “He doesn’t deserve your time of day.”

“Loosen up, (Y/N),” Fred commanded. “If you hang around Percy all day and refuse any fun, you’ll both die virgins.”

You went beet red immediately. It was a shade that rivalled Percy’s in speed and depth. You prayed that Bill wasn’t paying attention to you. 

“That is ENOUGH!” bellowed Molly who whipped around so quickly that she nearly decapitated George with her wooden spoon. She’d reached her boiling point. “I won’t have you ruining our morning with your distasteful conversations, especially with all our guests presents.” She charged over to Fred and handed him a stack of plates. “Go on, make yourself useful and set the table.”

“(Y/N), darling,” Molly said, her sudden change in tone a little frightening. “I’ve cleared out Bill’s old room for you. Since he’s heading back to Egypt right after the World Cup, he’ll share Charlie’s room for the time for the last night. There are fresh sheets and towels and a change of clothes if you need. You are welcome to use the bath right next to the room.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.” Fred’s comment about your virginity went through one of Molly’s ears and out the other. Thank Merlin. 

“Coffee’s ready, dear brother,” George sang. “How do you take it?”

“Just black,” Bill responded. “Thank you, George.”

You peered at Bill through a sip of coffee. Your heart fluttered again. Summers were really the best. It was the only chance to see him again for a flicker of time, an hour or two, before he travelled halfway across the world again. In this case, in a week. As the meal went on, you stared at him so intently during breakfast that your fork speared your cheek instead of your mouth multiple times.

When breakfast concluded, you assured Molly that you’d take care of the dishes and ushered her to the door.

“I hope you have a nice time,” you said to Ron and his friends. He mumbled a thanks. You smiled at him, happy that you were making some progress with Percy’s younger brother. Your peace was ruined by Fred and George murmuring amongst themselves excitedly. You hoped it was about the World Cup and nothing else. 

Arthur was doing a routine headcount when he asked: “Where’s Bill?”

“He said he had some emergency work to finish up for the bank,” Charlie said. “Keep the portkey open for him for another hour, and he’ll be sure to make it by then.”

“If you need anything,” Percy said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You know where to find me.”

You nodded.

After the Weasleys left, you locked the door and headed back into the house. Knowing Bill was upstairs working, you got to tidying the kitchen in the quietest manner you could. You hoped the running water and the occasional clinking of dishes wasn’t bothering him. It would be really embarrassing if he came down to complain about the noise. 

After the kitchen was cleaned, you went outside to trim the shrubs, water the plants, and feed the cows. You forced yourself not to peek at the front door to see if Bill had left. He probably had, and it hurt a bit that he’d gone without saying goodbye. 

The temperature had risen dramatically since you arrived in the morning, and by the time you were done, you were a sweaty mess. Bill had likely gone which meant you’d have the house to yourself. You caved into the idea of a long bath to wipe the mud and grime off your body. You dashed up to the main washroom Molly offered you and began running the water. 

When you were finished with your bath, you wrapped a clean towel around you and proceeded to your room. Maybe you could do some reading and take a nap before deciding on dinner, Your chest tingled when you realised it was Bill’s old room—how lucky were you?  The first thing you noticed when you entered was that Bill’s room was clean and sparse. Molly had left a window cracked open to allow for a gentle breeze, and placed your clothes on the bed. You took a couple steps forward and let your towel drop on the floor to reach for your tank top when suddenly…

Your hand met a tuft of hair. Hair that was attached to a pale, sweaty head. 

You screamed as you tumbled back, your bare bum hitting the wooden floor. Oh, where the heck was your wand when you needed it? You grabbed a pair of slippers in self-defence. 

“Who’s there?” you said in the bravest voice you could muster. “You need to get out of here, now!”

The thing in the bed just groaned weakly. You saw a pale, shaking arm stick out of the covers. Whatever it was, it was at least human, hopefully. 

Your hand grappled the top of the desk for your wand. Once you found it, you rose cautiously from the floor with the intent to peel away the covers. You’d dealt with Boggarts; you’d seen your worst nightmares in person. You treaded cautiously because the creature could rise at any moment. But it didn’t, forcing you to get closer. 

Your heart almost stopped when your hands grasped the hem of the covers. Your life flashed before your eyes. You needed to survive. You needed to live to work with Percy at the Ministry come September. You needed to live for your family. You needed to live for the off chance Bill Weasley shared the same feelings as you—oh, you were about to die, what was the point of thinking about Bill?

With your wand in an offensive position, you ripped the sheets off. 

But there was nothing.

Nothing at all.

What?

It took you a few seconds to process it, but this… thing wasn’t a creature at all. In fact, it was Bill Weasley. Well, an apparition of him of sorts. He looked extremely pale and sickly, his skin the shade of paper. His ginger hair stuck to his face, his sweat binding it like it was wet glue. There was an intense warmth radiating from his skin, and his body jostled slightly as the cold air hit him.

“Bill? You called out in complete disbelief. “Are—are you okay?”

He groaned in response. Slowly, he turned his head towards you. He looked even worse up close, or as worse as Bill Weasley could possibly look. His eyebrows were intensely furrowed, his breathing laboured, and he could barely open those pretty eyes of his—oh, not this again! Bill looked to be on death’s bed and all you were thinking about was how handsome he was. 

“I don’t know what happened,” Bill breathed out. His voice was a mere rasp. “I was feeling fine this morning. I can hardly get up now. And I can’t talk,” he coughed as if to prove a point, “above a whisper.”

“Are you running a fever?” you inquired, concern thick in your voice. 

“No, I don’t think—,” Bill mustered the strength to open his eyes. He looked startled. “(Y/N)?” he asked.

“Yes?”

“Where…”

You looked at Bill intently.

“Where are your clothes?”

“Huh?”

You looked down. Your mouth went slack. You were barer than the day you were born. 

“Shit!” you exclaimed. “I’m sorry, don’t look, don’t look, sorry, sorry!” So caught up in the heat of things, you’d haphazardly abandoned your towel in exchange for your life. You scampered back to retrieve it and tied it back on yourself. When you looked up, Bill was, fortunately, turned away, and only a sliver of his naked back was visible to you. 

“Is there anything I can help with?” you asked in a state of panic. ‘Besides giving you a show?’ On the inside, you had to laugh at the thought of a striptease benefiting Bill’s health.

Bill was looking worse for wear with every passing second, and you were just prancing around without clothes. “Your mother keeps potions in the cabinet, doesn’t she? I’ll go find an antipyretic--”

Bill swiped at his forehead with his palm. “I don’t think it’s a fever, well, to the best of my knowledge.”

“Then perhaps some water?” you offered. “Or some soup?”

“(Y/N),” Bill called. Your name rolled off like velvet from his lips. “Come here, please.”

Your eyes widened. Your heart was beating erratically and whether it was out of fear or anticipation, you didn’t know. Still, you complied and began walking over. The floor felt like pricks underneath your feet. 

“Could you please take these sheets off?” Bill asked. “I might try to cool down.”

You nodded. “S-sure.” You pinched the hem of the bedsheet with your forefinger and thumb and carefully stripped the sheet off. Every second that passed unveiled a new, delicious sight: Bill’s toned chest, the crevice between his chest and abdominal muscles, the veins running down his forearms, and the shapely twin creases that led straight down to his briefs. A chill of disappointment ran through your body when you realised he was still clothed. 

‘Stay focussed’, you pleaded with yourself. You were here to help Bill, not to take advantage of him.

“Is that better?” you asked Bill, but your eyes weren’t on his face. They were instead fixated on the centre of his body and namely, the very present bulge at the apex of his black briefs. His manhood had tented so viciously that it stretched the black fabric until it was translucent. Was that a spot of pink flesh or were you just seeing things? You gulped and tried to reign in your imagination. 

Bill breathed out as the cool air kissed his skin. “Marginally.”

“I can bring the fan inside the room,” you suggested so quickly you almost toppled off the bed. 

“Wait.” Bill’s hand grabbed your wrist before you could get anywhere. Your skin scorched. “Can you help me with one more thing?”

You were about to explode. “Sure, Bill.” 

“Could you help me remove my briefs too?”

Your jaw had, at this point, permanently detached from your face. “What?”

“Just one last thing and my temperature should regulate itself.”

Was stripping really a remedy to Bill’s ailment? Shaking your head, you decided to help him in any way possible before running back to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face to ascertain that you weren’t dreaming. This definitely had to be a dream. Today probably hadn’t even started yet. Any minute now, your alarm would ring and you would wake up so disappointed. 

“Alright.”

Slowly, you hooked your fingers underneath the elastic waistband of Bill’s briefs. His blue eyes fluttered close and his face twisted in relief. You suppressed a groan at the sight of Bill like this, pleasured by your every touch.

You’d never admit that Fred was right in his observation this morning, but it was true that you’d never seen a… penis in the flesh. But there was no turning away now as your hands worked to expose every inch of pink flesh hiding underneath Bill’s undergarments. It was deliciously lewd, the way his long cock sprang out from the confines of his boxers and nearly slapping you in the face. A tad closer, and the appendage would’ve swiped your cheek. Just inches in front you pulsed a swelling, oozing pink tip that was connected to a thick shaft that only seemed to grow slightly in girth as you stripped him. 

You had nothing but anatomical pictures and the circumference of your wrist to compare him to, but even you knew he was bigger than average. Bill had, truly, the prettiest cock to ever exist. Pale, smooth, pink, but an angrier shade coloured the head. He was thick, but even thicker near the base. Veins painted his manhood like art. You almost had to wonder how he’d feel inside you, splitting your virgin pussy open. It would kill you.

Holy shit. You had to stop thinking, because you were getting yourself wet. 

Bill raised his hips up to help you bring the last bit of his briefs down from underneath him. Your hand grazed the back of his thigh. The unintended action elicited a not-so-subtle moan from Bill. 

“I’m sorry, I—,” Bill said, pushing himself up on the bed. His neck was flushed crimson and his breathing heavy. You had plummeted into the ocean with the saltwater flooding your ears; you could barely hear. You gulped as a bead of wetness suddenly spurted out of the tip of his cock and threatened to run down the length of it. “I reckon I was cursed or hexed by someone,” he surmised. “It’s not like me to require such things of you, or anyone for that matter.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered. Your hand was turning white with the deathgrip on your towel. “But Bill, did that… help?”

The smartest thing to do was to remove yourself from this conversation and call for help, but you kept pressing the topic. You planted your palms on the mattress and looked on in awe. Bill was well-endowed beyond your wildest dreams. You couldn’t stop admiring him.

Forgetting he was naked, Bill sat up. His cock curled closer to his navel as a result. “What?”

You ripped your eyes away from the bead of precum that’d captivated your attention. “When we touched. It seemed to bring some colour to your face.”

“Come to think of it, I reckon it did, yeah,” Bill responded. He furrowed his brows, his words dying on his lips. There was only one direction this conversation was going to go and you had steered it off the overpass and down the cliff. 

You spoke up first. “Have you tried touching…”

“Myself?” Bill finished with a chuckle.

You blushed. “Yes, well,” you countered. “It’s not entirely unreasonable, and—”

“I have.”

You tilted your head. “And?”

Bill attempted to lift his hands, but they gravitated down to the bed. “Well, I’ve… tried,” he admitted sheepishly, “but it’s made it worse.” He chuckled and shook his head at the state he was in. “And now I can’t even manage to move my arm.”

“Oh.” You frowned. “But when I touched you, you felt better?”

Bill blew out some air which tickled the wet hair on his forehead. He gestured to his raging erection. “Can you… would you mind? You’re right, it might help.”

Would you mind?

Of course you wouldn’t. 

“I’ve never, erm,” you countered. A blaze of heat rushed to your cheeks. You didn’t want to admit to Bill that Fred was right when he clocked you as a virgin, though it didn’t take a deep understanding of your person to come to that conclusion. You and Percy both looked down on dalliances as prefects back in school, even busting students in the act and sending them to be reprimanded. You reckoned Bill was going to find it uncool but it was better to be truthful. “I’ve never done this with anyone.”

He chuckled. “I figured.”

You wanted to shrivel up and die. 

“But it’s absolutely fine,” Bill correctly quickly, knowing he’d offended you slightly. “You don’t need to have done it to know how to do it. I’ll guide you.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

He did his best to motion to the base of him with his hands. “Grip me firmly down here.” 

You obliged, holding him at the base with your right hand as you clutched your towel in the other. For an usually flaccid body part, Bill was very, very hard and warm. All the blood in his body was concentrated into one area, so it made sense. You were grateful when your thumb still managed to touch the tips of your fingers because, well, he was quite big and you weren’t confident he was going to fit in your hand. 

“Move up and down,” Bill instructed in between heavy pants. You nodded. When you started shifting your hand from the base to the head and back, he let out a low groan. His skin felt like velvet in your hands; he felt so good. “Yeah, just like that.” Precum dribbled from Bill and onto from the side of your fingers as you moved faster and covered more ground. Bill’s eyes alternated from open to close in erratic intervals as you began to adjust your speed and the tightness of your fingers around him. When Bill stopped talking, you reckoned you were doing a pretty damn good job. 

Bill was powerless underneath you and you relinquished the feeling. But you wanted more. 

So, you shifted from the edge of the bed towards the end of it, squeezing yourself in between his long legs. You never took your hands off him in the process so Bill was none the wiser about your mischievous movements. So, it was only when Bill heard the creaking of the bed that he looked up in surprise. By then, it was too late. You had already stopped pumping his shaft and leaned in to inhale the sweet musk instead.

“Can I?” you asked, batting your eyelashes.

Bill inhaled sharply, his cock duking out his brain for once the last shred of modesty. Oh, fuck modesty. “Only if you want to.”

In one swift motion, you leaned in and kissed the red and leaking tip. Clearly, it was you who really wanted to do this. When the soft skin of your lips met the soft skin of his head, Bill let out an audible gasp that was immediately swallowed by a throaty moan. He was not expecting you to be so brazen, so generous in your help. Little did he know you’d do anything for him at this point, his own affliction long forgotten. 

“How does that feel?” you asked.

“Amazing,” he rasped.

You licked the precum—salty, a little tingly, you noted—off his slit with the tip of your tongue. He tasted so good. Bill threw his head back. The ridges of his abs crinkled as he tried to hold himself upright with his elbows on the bed. He wanted to see you. You smacked your lips, unable to wait patiently to devour your meal. Then, in a moment of pure deviousness and sheer horniness, you enveloped Bill’s tip around your mouth.

“Shit!” 

This was the last thing Bill said before he fell back onto the bed. You took that as a sign of surrender; what you were doing felt too good for him to keep his defences up. He’d long stopped giving you instructions and let you take reign. Emboldened, you licked the slit with your tongue with Bill still nestled in your mouth. You then began to take him in further, as far as you could before he reached a natural stopping point at the back of your throat. Your mouth tensed—he was too big to fit comfortably inside. You sucked in your cheeks, hypothesising that a tighter fit would feel better for Bill. Sure, you were inexperienced, but you weren’t stupid or ignorant on the subject of what was pleasurable. 

“Yes, that’s it, (Y/N), just like that.”

You forewent your towel in favour of holding onto Bill’s thighs, placing one hand on the side of each of his legs. Still, you pressed your breasts down on the bed to hide your nipples to preserve what little was left for Bill to still see. Then again, what was the point of dignity when his dick was in your mouth?

Bill’s hands quietly crept along the bedsheets and floated towards your head. From there, his long fingers wove and nestled themselves in your hair so deeply that it wouldn’t be easy for you to untangle yourself. Clever of him. His fingernails glided across your scalp, slowly, tenderly, like a predator circling their prey before the attack. Bill then started guiding your head up and down slowly, his patience clearly wearing thin and needing to take matters into his own hands--literally. 

“Feeling okay?” he asked.

You nodded, unable to speak. Bill noted this and chuckled. You gave him a pointed look. 

“Hard to look intimidating with my cock in your mouth, love,” he said, tightening his fingers around your hair. You grumbled something unintelligible. The wetness leaking out of your core spoke volumes for you. 

Bill’s hands were fully entangled in your hair as he continued to lift you up and down. Slow at first, but he could hardly contain himself after the first minute. The way his big cock pulsed in your mouth, gods… The faster he commanded you to move, the more his visage grew streaked from the tears in your eyes. You tightened your grip on his thighs every time his cock glided across your palate and pushed itself down your throat. You did everything in your power to not gag or choke, but when he did strike particularly deep, you pulled off of him immediately. 

“I’m sorry,” Bill quickly said. “Was that too much?”

You shook your head, wiped a wet line of tears from your face, coughed, and responded, “No, I’m fine.”

You crawled back to him and engulfed him without another word.

“Ah,” Bill breathed out. “Fuck, (Y/N). You feel so good.”

You shouldn’t be enjoying being used so much, but you loved it. Loved it especially when Bill held you in place and began thrusting into your mouth instead as a means to conserve effort and increase his speed. You were growing wetter and wetter with every compliment he spoke. You imagined Bill’s big hands gripping your hips, stilling you, as he thrust repeatedly into your pussy. You wanted to be used everywhere. 

“Shit,” he growled, lazy eyes hovering on you. Deliciously lazy and so hazy. “I’m close.”

He stopped thrusting, but you hadn’t stopped bobbing your head up and down. You were so far gone in your quest to make Bill come that you’d thrown your own needs aside. 

“Hold on, (Y/N),” Bill commanded. “Don’t you want to—ah—!”

You knew he’d reached his climax when his hips ascended and stilled above the bed. A deep moan left his mouth. Bill’s cock twitched heavily with every rope of cum that shot its way into your mouth. He didn’t quit until every crevice of your mouth was sloshing with his seed; he was a never-ending faucet of cum. 

After a minute, you finally detached yourself from him, careful to keep the fruits of your labour in your mouth and not on the bed sheets that Bill’s mother had laundered so well. You swallowed all the cum in your mouth. It wasn’t as pleasant as the books and films had made it out to be—it was warm and slightly bitter, but it was Bill’s and heaven knew you’d do anything for him.

Bill threw himself back on the bed, his head meeting the pillow with a soft thud. He was still breathing heavily as he reposed. Though his hair stuck wildly to his cheeks—which were slowly regaining colour—his face expressed newfound calm. 

Bill patted the pillow beside him, on the spot in between the wall and his body. “Come here,” he rasped, his eyes still closed. 

You obliged and scooted upwards. Bill splayed his arm on the pillow to give you a makeshift headrest. You settled into the nook of his bicep. Through the corner of your eye, you stole little glances at Bill and the rise and fall of his chest. A warm, midday breeze fluttered through the open windows, the red curtains billowing out. Everything was so serene, so tranquil, so…Holy shit, what had you just done? 

Just three hours ago, you were wistfully staring at Bill at breakfast, grateful to have seen him at all this year to feed your starving crush on him. Now, you were laying naked in his bed with him after giving him what you hoped was an acceptable blowjob. It was both great and terrible that you wouldn’t see him after today. How would you explain this to anyone if you couldn’t even believe it yourself? You needed to bolt and never see Bill again. 

Bill snapped you out of your trance. “(Y/N)?” 

“Yes, Bill?”

You turned around to find yourself reflected in his crystal blue eyes. 

“Would you like to finish, too?”

“Oh, uhm!” Well, you hadn’t expected him to ask you that. “No, I’m okay.” An utter lie. Your pussy was pleading to be fucked. You sat up, preparing yourself to go. “I should finish up with my chores. You should get going before the portkey closes.” 

Bill grasped your wrist again. “I don’t want to go.” He sat up with you and looked you straight in the eye. 

He was serious. The intensity of his gaze was so overwhelming that you looked down. You sucked a quiet breath in. 

“I want to make you feel good,” he said, placing a hand on your cheek. “Let me, please.”

You choked. Was Bill Weasley begging to go down on you? The resolute look on his face definitely extinguished any fight you had left in you. A fraction of a second after you nodded, Bill turned you over and kissed you. One hand remained on your cheek while the other wrapped itself around your naked waist to pull you closer until your chest was flush against his. If you weren’t focussed on how hard his lips were pressed on yours, you would’ve been more embarrassed about how your pert nipples were pressed against his chest. Bill obviously didn’t mind, in fact, he was trying to pull you in as close as possible, closing the last sliver of space between your bodies. 

Bill tilted his head to deepen the kiss. His lips felt like hard silk—a walking contradiction— against you and now you wished to feel them everywhere: on your neck, on your breasts, on your stomach and in between your legs. You reckoned he should kiss heavily in between your legs. 

Bill was all lean muscle and long limbs. He couldn’t splay out on the bed as easily as you could. He landed on his knees, then shifted you upwards until your head was resting against the baseboard of the bed. He spread your legs with his hands—so big that they absolutely swallowed you—using his thumb as anchors. 

He looked back up at you. His eyes had darkened significantly, like a sudden storm that had broken through a clear day. Whatever drug was flowing through his veins, it was only growing more potent. “You’re so wet.” 

You made an attempt to shut your legs. You were cycling through moments of confidence and embarrassment, and his words made you want to curl up and die.

“Don’t,” Bill said. “You turn me on so much. Who knew that behind such an innocent facade was a girl begging to be fucked?”

And just like that, your legs fell open in one buttery smooth motion. 

”That’s it, such a good girl for me,” Bill praised. He leaned in and ran his tongue flat over your folds. You squirmed but his iron-clad hold on you prohibited any movement. You tried so very hard to quiet yourself as his tongue painted you in oscillating strokes. You gasped whenever he landed briefly on your clitoris. He hummed, pleased, and let the vibrations rock your body. Your breathing was dangerously unsteady as Bill pulled you closer to him and increased the intensity of his tongue. He unlatched one hand from your thigh and shifted them near your drooling entrance. Gently, he inserted a finger. Before you could jump upwards at the intrusion, he brought his tongue back to your clit to massage away any pain. “So sweet,” he hummed again. Bill kept his finger steady inside you until your squirming stopped. 

“You’re so tight,” Bill whispered. He added another finger to your already taut hole. “I can barely fit two fingers in here. How do you suppose you’ll take my cock, hm?” 

A rhetorical question. Instead of waiting for an answer, Bill began moving his fingers back and forth. You let out a small whine that you buried into the pillow. “Sh, it’s okay, just relax, darling,” Bill assured. In a matter of moments, Bill had gone from shallow little thrusts to burying his fingers to the hilt. The motion of his fingers curling inside you elicited a load moan from your lips, and your legs parted further in response. It was over when his stupid tongue found its way back to your clit; you nearly screamed. He flicked your sensitive bud over and over, building the pressure in the region. Between that, and Bill’s face buried between your legs and the wet sounds of his fingers inside you, you were just one thrust away from coming undone.

“Bill, Bill—” you tried to stop him, too scared to be thrown over the edge. But Bill showed no sign of stopping. When he sucked on your clit, you knew it was over. He had pushed you off the cliff. “Bill!” 

You clamped down on his hand, but Bill hadn’t stopped moving; he was intending to fuck you through it. Waves of pleasure, sweetly punctuated by Bill’s nimble fingers, washed over you until you had no coherent thought left. You laid there for a minute, until your heart rate had finally settled back to normal. 

“I’m getting impatient,” Bill chuckled. “Seeing you writhe around like that, coming on all over my hand, Merlin..”

You tightened your lips. “Me too.”

“What was that?” he teased, pretending not to hear. 

“I’m getting impatient.”

“For what?”

“You know what for.”

He shot you a cocky grin. “I won’t know until you tell me.”

“Fuck me, Bill,” you almost screamed. “Fuck me, please.” It was killing you. You looked down at Bill’s manhood. He looked even harder and fuller than how you found him, if that were even possible. His cock twitched to stand at full attention when you shuffled back to him. You wanted to feel him, so warm and engorged, inside you, splitting you open with how big he was. 

“You’re so needy, (Y/N),” Bill teased. He laid down. “Get on top of me, I want to see you.” 

You clambered over immediately. You splayed a leg on each side of him and propped yourself up with your knees. Wordlessly, Bill pulled you in and your body listened. He met your lips for another kiss that showed no signs of being broken. Well, not until he decided to latch onto one of your nipples instead. His lips covered the circumference of your areola and sucked gently. 

“Bill,” you whimpered, succumbing once again to his dexterous tongue. He swirled around your sensitive bud, flicking it back and forth, and sending little electric shocks down to your toes. You were getting so, so wet for him.

One of Bill’s hands trailed down to his cock and gave it a couple of strokes before he aimed it towards your core. You moaned every time he pressed against your throbbing clit before moving back to your opening and repeating the motion. You needed to come again, and Bill was intent on bringing you there. He rubbed the head back and forth, concentrating the slick to where he eventually wanted to be. He was showing great restraint; it was taking everything not to just thrust into you. 

“You already feel so good,” he praised. “So wet, so tight, love, all for me. I can’t wait to fuck this tight pussy.”

Bill piled on the words and continued to ravish your breasts as a distraction of what was to come. The head of his cock was directly aligned with your opening that was weeping at the thought of him inside you. But the largest thing you’d taken ever were Bill’s fingers; he couldn’t possibly fit without absolutely destroying you. The universe couldn’t have gifted you with a warm-up, could it? Instead, it gifted you the girth of Bill. Still, you remained in place, readying yourself as he began to enter you. 

You gasped at the first intrusion. You clenched Bill’s forearms in retaliation, your mouth parting in shock. You wanted him badly, but your anatomy wasn’t letting your desires take the front seat. 

Bill placed a hand on your back. Stiff. “You’re tense,” he noted, kissing up on your neck. “Just relax. It’ll feel good, I promise.” You nodded, trusting him. 

“Hngh—!” was all you let out when he pushed deeper. Your breathing fell out of sync as you tried to calm yourself. Maybe this was it, and all of him was already inside of it. 

“That’s just my head inside you, love,” Bill stated, as if reading your mind.  

You paled. “How are you so big?”

Bill chuckled in agreement before swallowing you in a kiss. His tongue found its way into your mouth, and you could taste the pure need radiating off him. He gave little shallow thrusts, trying to ease himself into you. Though it still burned heavily, a ring of pain, as he stretched you out, Bill’s pace was making it much more tolerable and frankly, more erotic. 

When he was halfway in, Bill’s eyes fell shut in utter bliss. His hands gripped your ass cheeks, pulling them apart, as if it would help you sink further down on him. 

“You take me so well,” he said as he continued impaling your poor little pussy. He never stopped littering you with kisses, whether it was on your lips, cheeks, neck, or breasts. He suckled your tits again when he rammed the thickest part of him inside you in one thrust. 

You stifled a cry into the crook of his neck and tightened your arms around him. “Bill!”

“Give it a minute, (Y/N),” he assured, but his voice sounded garbled, so far away. “I promise, it’s going to feel so good.”

When he felt you relax a little, Bill began to increase the length of his thrusts, breaking into your pussy a little more each time. You fell onto him, the pleasure beginning to overwrite the pain. 

Bill moaned as he sped up the slightest. “You’re so tight, (Y/N), tighter than I could’ve ever imagined.” His words only added fuel to the fire. “I can’t believe it’s me that gets to break into your pussy.”

“Then break me, Bill,” you pleaded. “Please. Harder.”

He chuckled. “You don’t have to ask twice.”

Bill looped his arms around you to hold you in place. From there, he began to drive himself into you faster, harder, just like a hole to be used for his pleasure, just like you had asked.

“Oh!” 

You could hardly keep your eyes open as he assaulted your body. He tested different depths and angles, watching your facial expressions for the perfect one. His long, deep strokes were landing on the perfect place - a place that had you seeing stars. So pleasurable but just millimetres away from being too much, too painful. There was so much of him inside you. Your legs stiffened, almost cramping, as the heat increased in pitches in your core. Your hands went wild, trying to find a place to stabilise your body. They found refuge on the top of the headboard. In one particularly hard thrust, he sheathed himself completely inside you, the widest part of him spearing you open. 

That was the precise moment you came undone, screaming. White obfuscated your vision as you lost control of your body. You convulsed on him, your pussy contracting around his cock like a vice. Bill continued to fuck you through your orgasm, bottoming out in you repeatedly,  letting you ride out the pleasure for as long as humanely possible. You fell onto him like a rag doll, limp, worn out from your second orgasm. Bill could only smile at a job well done. He withdrew himself from you and flipped you over. He nestled his manhood back between your legs. You watched with excitement as his cock, covered in your cream, sprang to his navel. You felt so hollow without him inside you, and you were about to beg for him again, but he moved quickly. He leaned towards you, placing the head of his cock to your opening once again. But instead of delving into you like you had hoped, he rubbed himself against you, occasionally pushing into you the slightest.  

Confused, you raised your hips up, trying to align yourself perfectly with his cock and push him back in. But your attempts were futile. 

“Don’t do that,” you chastised when you realised he was doing this on purpose. 

“Do what?” Bill asked innocently. 

“Tease me like this.”

He smirked. “Who said I was teasing you?” 

Just as you were about to retort, Bill drove himself into you when you were least expecting it, burying himself entirely into you. Your body shivered in pleasure, legs straightening and stiffening. You screamed when he quickened his pace, pounding into you with deep, full thrusts. His hands gripped your bouncing breasts, keeping them in place and occasionally pinching your nipples. Bill pushed himself to the hilt, then almost withdrew completely, before filling you up again as hard as he could. At certain points, he would hit a bundle of nerves that caused your toes to curl. At some point, you couldn’t tell the difference between pain and pleasure—it all felt so overwhelmingly good. 

The lewd sound of his balls hitting your skin was heaven to your ears. In this moment, you wanted nothing more than to be filled with his seed. 

“Come inside me,” you near screamed. 

Your little request was enough to break Bill out of his trance. “What?”

“Come inside me,” you repeated. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” 

With no reason to ask you to clarify again, Bill obliged. He gave a couple more thrusts, so powerful it forced your body to slide up over the bedsheets and your head to almost slam into the headboard. Then, he let out a loud, choked grunt, his eyes screwing shut. You could feel his cock twitch heavily inside you as he deposited his seed, filling your pussy. He hovered over you, exhausted, draining every last bit of him inside you. Both of you shared the same laboured respiration. You reached up and pushed back the ginger hair that was strewn across his forehead.

Bill began to soften inside you, but refused to pull out just yet. If you stayed here like this any longer, there was no doubt you’d meld together into one.

With a heavy almost regretful breath, Bill reluctantly removed himself out of you. You felt his cum trickling rapidly out of you and onto the bed sheets. You sat up to look. There was so much. it was smeared all over your sex, all over your inner thighs, and all over the sheets. There was no doubt there was more deep inside you. 

You looked up at Bill. Much to your disappointment, he looked to be back to his usual, happy self. Your services were no longer required. And much to your disappointment, he was looking around for his briefs. Well, it wasn’t like you could stay in paradise forever. 

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he said. 

“Of course,” you responded.

Bill gave you a small peck on the lips which made you smile. Then, it all went downhill from there, as he returned not more than a second later for another kiss. This time, deeper, thick with more lust. The next kiss, he had you pinned you on the bed by the arms. Unexpectedly, you felt him harden against you once more. His cock was back its previous stiffness and trying to find its way back to your cunt. 

He paused. “I’m not sure what’s gotten into me,” Bill admitted sheepishly.

“You mean you’re not usually like this?” you questioned with a smile. You didn’t mind it, not one bit. 

He contemplated it. “It has been a while, but it’s highly unlikely for me to go twice, let alone three times a day.”

“Really?” You cocked your head. “Is that not—”

Before you could speak, Bill plunged himself into you once more. Your mouth went slack. It was quite an effective way to shut you up. Most of his spend was still either deep inside you or running down your inner thighs, but he was intent on pumping you full of him even more. 

You had no complaints. Instead, you succumbed to the wet sloshes of his thrusts and messy kisses once again.

…..

In a tent one long Portkey away from the Burrow, a very different conversation was taking place.

“How do you reckon our Paradise Potions did?” 

“Considering that Bill hasn’t joined us, I’d say pretty well.”

END!

Part 2

[naelysvelaryon]

¿

naelys’ lips parted slightly, as though to respond, but no words came at first. she only stared ahead, lilac eyes reflecting the silvered glimmer of the currents below. ginny said it so easily—be yourself. "sometimes you can, yes." her response was earnest and genuine, wrapped in kindess and uncertainty; it had always been so. there had been times where nellie had to ask ginny to repeat herself, or talk slower for the vale accent was a funny quirky thing. but that had never been a winning strategy for anyone, had it? her fingers twitched where they rested against the railing, tightening for a moment before relaxing again.

the words stirred something uncertain in her, a quiet discomfort she did not know how to voice.

“myself?” she echoed at last, the word tasting strange on her tongue, as though she were testing its weight before committing to it fully. her fingers traced absent circles against the cool stone, movements slow and deliberate. “...i do not think that would work any wonders, ginny.” the words were not harsh, nor were they said in jest. they were merely a quiet truth, one she had long accepted. she turned her gaze towards her companion then, watching the way moonlight caught in the warm strands of her hair, how she stood with a natural ease that naelys had never quite mastered.

ginny made it look effortless—the way she stepped into the flow of conversation, how she shaped the space around her with a few well-placed words and a knowing smile. naelys could not do that. she had never known how.

“i have never known how to make people listen,” she admitted, her voice softer now, though not without thought. “not the way you do.” she did not mean it with resentment; if anything, there was an odd sort of admiration in the way she spoke. ginny could weave words like fine silk, light and enticing, drawing people in before they realised they were already ensnared. naelys was not woven from that same cloth. her words were often left drifting, lost to the tide before anyone could hold them.

the night air carried the scent of damp earth and river mist, mingling with the distant murmur of unseen revelry. naelys let out a small breath, fingers trailing along the railing once more. “perhaps that is why i do not speak as much. i have never had much faith that people would care to listen.” a small, wistful smile flickered across her lips before fading just as quickly. “but you... you have never had to wonder about such things, have you?” she fiddled with the jewels on her hands as she exhaled, watching a cloud of smoke fill in the air in front of her; now she was a real dragon. the thought caused the corners of her lips to turn upward, almost half laughing at herself in her own head. beware vhagar.

"what would you say shows... finesse? how do i enter conversations if i am not being directly spoken to?"

Ginevra’s lips curled into a soft, knowing smile as she listened to Naelys, her eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. She never failed to find a quiet amusement in the way Naelys spoke, her words laced with that unassuming honesty that Ginny had come to appreciate.

“Do I talk too much?” she mused, her tone light but with a knowing edge. “Perhaps. But it’s a skill, really. It’s not just the talking, but the knowing when to do it and with whom. People are remarkably receptive when you take the time to listen first, and then speak with just the right amount of… charm.” She flashed Naelys a teasing smile, her words carrying a playful ease that seemed effortlessly poised. “It helps, of course, to have a certain finesse when slipping into conversations.”

Her gaze lingered on Naelys as the Valyrian woman continued to observe the path ahead, her quiet, thoughtful nature as distinct as ever. Ginny, ever the observer, caught the vulnerability in her friend’s question, a flicker of doubt hidden beneath the surface. “Talking to strangers is hardly a challenge,” Ginny said with a light laugh. “It’s all about finding the right hook, something they care about, even if it’s something as simple as the weather. People love to talk about themselves, and once you’ve discovered that, well… the rest is simply a matter of timing. I don’t do it because I like hearing myself talk - though I do enjoy that part too - but because people are fascinating. Every little quirk, every little thing they say, it’s like they’re handing you a piece of themselves. All you have to do is listen and ask the right questions.”

At Naelys’ reflection on people’s darker actions, Ginevra’s expression shifted, her elegance not lost even in serious moments. “Ah, yes. People can be… tiresome at times. But there is beauty in their chaos, isn’t there? Just like these currents. They continue to shimmer even after storms have passed. It’s proof that, even in the wake of disaster, something enduring remains.”

Ginny’s smile softened as she stepped closer to her friend, offering a comforting presence. “You don’t have to change, Naelys. Not one bit. But perhaps, if you ever find yourself uncertain of how to speak, you might consider simply being yourself. It works wonders.”

[kyber-crystal]

tunnel vision || f.w.

summary: you’d be able to tell him apart even with your eyes closed and a barely beating heart. and he would do the same, of course.

words: ~4.2k LMFAOOO

warnings: minor violent flashbacks, the usual cheesiness, fred being too perfect as always, also this is kinda poorly written i'm so sorry sadfhgie

a/n: this is set after new year’s so…hehehe new year new love amirite LMFAO add yourself to my hp taglist here!

“...it’s a masquerade! I can’t believe it!” Hermione clasped her hands together; she shone as she spoke. “McGonagall said it was the first of its kind to be held at Hogwarts!”

“Wicked,” said Fred. “So…you lot got dates for the dance?”

“No,” Ron sighed. “Haven’t gotten around to asking. You?”

“Y/N, obviously.” 

“Y/N? When I last asked her she said she was yet to find a date,” Ginny chimed in. “I told her I’d go with her if she couldn’t find anyone by the end of the week.”

“Oh, right. One second.” He turned over to where you were sitting by the fire, sitting still while Parvati braided your hair. “Oi! Y/N!” 

You shifted in your spot to look at him. “Huh?” 

“You’re going to the ball with me.”

The entire room had gone silent, staring at you both. Someone in the corner giggled. “Uh…what?” 

“You, me,” he pointed at you, then himself, “Ball.”

You gave him a look of confusion, but nodded anyway. “Okay.”

“Blimey, Freddie, you didn’t even ask her! That was a statement, not a question,” Ron exclaimed as the common room resumed its normal chatter like nothing had happened. “which doesn’t count! That’s not the way to get the girl.”

“But she said yes, did she not?” Fred countered, pointing at his brother. Nothing came out of his mouth at this. “Exactly. That’s funny coming from you, Ronniekins.”

Ron scoffed and crossed his arms. He turned bright red when he asked, “Whatever. Well, it’s now or never then so, um…Hermionedoyouwanttogototheballwithme?”

“It’s about time you asked!” she grinned. “Of course I would.”

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Fred patted Ron’s back. “You two, very cute. Now get married or something.”

Both Ron and Hermione blushed furiously, looking away from each other. 

You watched this exchange from your spot on the floor, fully amused. “It’s so funny that they’re still dancing around each other like this. You’d think that after confessing to each other, they would be less awkward.”

“Well, you could say the same about yourself and a special someone, don’t you think?” Parvati asked as she motioned for you to stay still, tying your braid off with a hairtie. You ran your hand over the intricate braid and whispered a quick ‘thank you.’ “He asked you, just like you’d hoped.”

“He didn’t even ask, he told me we were going together.”

“You told me you wanted someone with a lot of confidence.”

“I don’t even know what I want.”

“Do you, really?” Parvati gave you a ‘look’ before turning her head, and you followed her gaze to where Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Harry were now crammed together on the tiny sofa, doubled over in laughter over some silly joke. She noticed the longing look in your eyes as you gazed at the older twin. “The war’s over…he came back. For you. He could’ve chosen to stay in the shop and not come back to finish his studies but he came back. Don’t you think that means something?”

“He—he’s my best friend,” you spluttered. “My best friend would do that!”

“He’s not your best friend and you know it.” Right as she said this, Fred caught your eye, winked at you, and mouthed There’s my favorite date before returning to his conversation with Harry. 

Maybe Parvati was right…? But keeping your overthinking self in mind, you opted not to read into it too much. After all, one’s feelings could change without warning. 

FOUR DAYS LATER

The evening of the ball came, and the Gryffindor girls’ dormitory was packed with girls from all houses rushing around and helping each other get ready. Classical music flowed from Hermione’s Muggle Bluetooth speaker, and the room smelled of sweet perfume. You were perched on a beanbag chair as Parvati held your hair in her hands, twisting it into an elegant updo. Making a mental note to ask her for styling tips after the evening ended, you stayed as still as possible.

Before you knew it Hermione was helping you into your dress with its elegant, flowy skirt and all, and you were standing in front of the vanity, turning this way and that as you admired how the fabric shone brightly. 

“I just know my brother won’t be able to take his eyes off you, I mean, the bloke already can’t as is. Now watch how he reacts when he sees you looking like—” Ginny paused momentarily to place a sparkly tiara on your head, “—a princess. Also, I totally didn’t steal this from Mum. She gave it to me, but I think it’d look better on you.”

“I’m only here to have fun…” you tried to explain, “nothing more. He’s your brother and my best friend.”

“Yeah, and I’m the Minister of Magic,” she said sarcastically. “Come on. He’s so in love and you gits are too blind to see it.”

“Gin, stop…” your pleaded as you slid your heels and glittering mask on. “I don’t want to think about it too much.”

The real reason was that you were scared to. The last time you slipped and let yourself care about Fred too much, you’d almost lost him entirely, voice hoarse from screaming because you’d felt his heartbeat slow down as you held him on the stone floor, his blood coating your hands. You didn’t want to let yourself love him as anything more than a friend because you were afraid of him slipping away. Your knuckles had gone white from the force of your grip on him, the dried cuts on them threatening to crack open and start bleeding again. You had him now, and he was back and better than ever, but that didn’t stop you from worrying. 

Her voice softened. “For what it’s worth, I wouldn’t want anyone else as my sister-in-law. It’d be nice to have another girl inside the house asides from Hermione and Fleur…not that I don’t love them, though.”

Her words seem to comfort you a bit. “Thanks…”

“Ginny!” Hermione blushed behind her satin, lilac mask. “We’re not even married—”

“Yet!” she giggled. “Let me have hope!”

You and Fred hadn’t seen each other all day; Hermione had said something along the lines of it being “ tradition” but you reminded her that “this was a dance, not a wedding.” She still insisted. 

Linking arms together with her and Ginny, you exited the common room and carefully descended down the pristine marble staircase together. 

It was hard to resist letting your gaze linger a bit as you entered the Great Hall, which had been bewitched tonight to look like an otherworldly winter wonderland. Snowflakes fell from the enchanted ceiling in delicate, glittering spirals, colorful garlands and bunches of ivy were strung over the frost-covered walls, and several grandiose Christmas trees stood in the far back, stars shining brightly. The layer of (semi-) masked identities only further added to the charm; the seas of deep red, metallic green, and sunflower yellow were definitely a sight to be held. 

You allowed your eyes to linger for a bit before looking for the rest of your friends. For a moment you felt like you were just fifteen again, dancing your worries away at the Yule Ball without a clue as what lay ahead of you. 

Several people started to whisper as you passed by side-by-side with Hermione and Ginny, audibly gasping at the sight.

“Blimey, that looks like Y/L/N…is that really her?”

“Is that Granger next to her?”

“And the Weasley girl? The one in green?”

“I thought they were humans, not angels.”

“Should’ve asked them before the others got the chance to…”

The three of you made your way over to Ron, Harry, and the twins, who were holding champagne flutes and chatting amongst themselves. You could tell who they were in mere seconds despite their disguises because of 1) their mannerisms and 2) they always gravitated towards their favorite color when dressing themselves. They all stopped and set their drinks down as soon as they saw you approach, jaws dropping open in surprise. 

“You look—” Fred gaped as you momentarily lifted your mask to greet him. The light layer of glitter beneath your eyes made them pop, and he couldn’t help but stare. “beautiful, Y/N.”

“And you clean up quite nicely, Weasley,” you grinned and gave him a quick once-over, admiring his sleek, black and navy dress robes and matching feathered mask. He was a sight for sore eyes in midnight blue—you knew that red had always been his color, but were starting to think that maybe, blue suited him just as well, complimenting his eyes perfectly. “You ready to dance the night away?”

“Say no more, milady,” he said, taking you by your gloved hand and whisking you away into the crowd. 

Hagrid had been put in charge of tonight’s festivities, and as couples made their way onto the dance floor, he switched the tune to something much softer and slower. 

Fred tugged you into his arms, holding you flush against his chest as your arms looped around his neck. You were 

quick to fall into the rhythm, bodies moving perfectly in sync to the music. It was as if everything else faded into the background and nobody else was there except for the two of you.

As the music swelled, he lifted you by the waist and spun you around, causing you to yelp lightly in surprise. It was graceful and effortless, the way he led you into a careful waltz and twirled you across the glimmering floors. He then dipped you slightly, causing laughter to spill from your lips, and he declared in that moment that it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. The mask that was obscuring half his features did absolutely nothing to stop how your heart raced every time you locked eyes. 

“Have I told you that you look beautiful?”

“You have, but I’ve got a terrible memory…wouldn’t mind if you said it again,” your lips quirked up in a playful grin. Two could play that game. “Care to remind me?”

“You look,” he paused to lift your hand up over your head, spinning you in place, then bringing you back in, “beautiful. Stunning. Angelic. But are you sure that you haven’t taken Polyjuice Potion? I’d hate for the clock to strike midnight and find out I’ve been dancing with the ferret this whole time.”

“My father will be hearing about this,” you said in your best Malfoy imitation, tone dripping with contempt and sarcasm.

Fred feigned a look of shock and offense. “How dare you.” 

“Scared to lose me, Weasley?”

“Scared of you, Y/L/N,” he corrected. You snickered before going quiet while adjusting his shirt collar. But right as you were about to bring your hand back down to his shoulder he took ahold of your wrist, keeping your hand against his neck for a brief moment. You were unable to look away.

“Must be extra terrifying, seeing me in the common room every day.”

“Absolutely. However,” He craned his neck down slightly to brush a few stray curls away from your face and mask, “I find it easy to face that fear when it comes to looking at a walking dream come true. It’s worth more than a thousand Galleons, you know.”

Though it wasn’t uncommon for Fred to tease or flirt with you, he would, once in a blue moon, say something that made your heart flutter a bit more. All you could manage now was a small smile, relaxing against him and continuing to sway to the music. The feathers and jewels near your face were beginning to scratch at your skin—albeit pretty, the mask wasn’t comfortable—but the discomfort was long forgotten as you were far more focused on the man in front of you. 

Countless songs (including one fast-paced, upbeat one in which you joined all your friends in one giant, tightly-packed group and jumped around), snacks, and drinks later, you felt completely drained. But one thing was for sure: you would do it all over again if you could. 

Although the chatter about the ball didn’t stop, the following week presumed as normal, and you were thrown back into a final few bits of frantic studying before the first exams of the new term. You hardly had time to see Fred because you were holed up in the library all day with piles of books. Hermione had pulled you along with her and you obliged, desperately wanting to start the year off right by receiving top marks and subsequently, no anxiety attacks. (And that wasn’t without Ron saying something along the lines of “It’s like seeing double Granger! You two need to relax.)

A rare post-evening break had you wandering around the halls of the castle to take a breather. You approached the front of the Room of Requirement, muttering about a place to relax in peace. The door appeared in front of you and you looked around before deciding to enter. 

Any bit of relaxation you thought you’d get was swiftly interrupted by the door creaking open just minutes later. 

“Are you kidding m—” you paused, whirling around to see a supposedly innocent-looking Fred. Innocent? Had he been playing pranks again? He always gets that look on his face when he does, you thought. “How did you get in here?”

“I asked to see my favorite person in the world. And then this place appeared,” Fred explained. “Miss me?”

“You wish,” you teased. “Merlin’s beard, it’s too dark in here—Lumos.” 

The tip of your wand lit up, and you tapped it against several of the candles that were sitting around the room, faint orange glows beginning to emit from each of them. 

“Aren’t you a genius.”

“I know,” you agreed as you slipped your wand back in your pocket. You settled on a nearby cushion and took your books, parchment, and quill out of your tote bag, legs tucked underneath you.

It was quiet for the next hour and a half or so, with you focusing on your homework and Fred doing Merlin knew what. You appreciated the peaceful routine; how the silence didn’t feel awkward and how he didn’t interrupt you while you were studying.

Forty more minutes passed before you decided it was time for a break. By some miracle you heard no loud clangs or crashes the entire time you’d been studying—a rarity for someone like Fred Weasley. You looked up, almost a bit concerned at the lack of noise, but paused as you saw him standing across the room, focusing on the ornate mirror in front of him.

“Fred?” 

No response. You tried again. “Fred…what are you doing?” 

You gave up and set your books down, walking over to where he stood. He looked as if he had fallen into a semi-trance of some sort and it took you a second to snap him out of it. 

“I’m alright,” he assured you, flashing you a smile. “Just curious as to what I saw in there.”

“It’s just a mirror, Fred.”

“No, it’s not, look.” 

You took a closer look at the writing engraved into the mirror’s frame. “Oh…the mirror of Erised…I forgot this thing existed.”

“Interesting, isn’t it?” Fred asked. “Harry’s told me about it before. Said ‘ol Dumbledore had told him how it caused many men to drive themselves mad standing in front of it, wishing their visions were real.”

“Then you’d have a heart attack, not being able to stare at yourself forever,” you joked, eliciting a chuckle from him. “What a tragic way to die.”

“I’d rather stare at you,” he shrugged. “That’s a much better way to leave this planet.”

“I don’t know about that,” you countered, face feeling hot, “now move aside. I want to see myself bathing in glory.” 

You stepped forward and peered into the mirror, but were taken by surprise. 

“What do you see?”

You squinted, tilted your head to the left, then to the right, and blinked a few times, but nothing seemed to have changed. Fred’s arms gingerly wrapped around your waist from behind and he rested his chin on your head, placing a tender kiss there. 

His reflection seemed to do the exact same thing.

And it hit you right then and there that the figures staring back at you were yours and his. 

Still, you weren’t quite sure what exactly you were supposed to be seeing, if you were even seeing the right thing. 

“Uh…you, Ron, Hermione, George, and I. We’re in the Burrow…” Your sentence trailed off. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him the truth; you didn’t want to tell yourself the truth either, “...sitting by a crackling log fire in the meadow…just us five. Something like a dream.” 

Knowing you as deeply as he did, Fred could tell you were lying. But seeing the faraway look in your eyes made him decide not to prod any further. He knew better than to try and bug you about something you’d never voluntarily speak up about. 

It was absurd. It couldn’t possibly be true. You were in denial; there was simply no way that your reflection in the Mirror of Erised hadn’t changed one bit. It made no sense to you. There had to have been something else. 

Avoiding Fred hurt you more than you wanted to admit, but you weren’t sure you could face him after what you’d seen. It wasn’t that you didn’t love him; it simply bugged you how, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the feelings you had for him. They flowed through your blood and settled deep within your bones, curling around and burrowing into every nook and cranny of your being. 

It came to a point in which Hermione had to pull you out of bed with Ginny’s help in order to get you to go anywhere. To eat, to class, to the library. You appreciated that they didn’t bombard you with questions about your odd behavior; they instead opted to simply sit there and offer you their company. Though they ended up piecing together what happened, based on the way Fred looked more down than usual because you weren’t hanging around him as much. 

Finally after a week of not seeing you face-to-face, he cornered you outside the library, having waited there as he knew you’d be walking out of there, or Hermione would, and she might’ve told him where you were. 

“Y/N—”

“Fred,” you croaked, and he felt his heart shatter as he took one good look at your face. Dark circles had always been a thing you’d complained about, but they were much more prominent now than before. It might’ve been the dim lighting in the hallway but you looked beyond exhausted. Your eyes were bloodshot as well, which told him you hadn’t slept much last night, if at all lately. 

“You look tired,” he said with concern. “Don’t you think you need to—”

“If you’re going to ask me to test one of your products, I’m saying no,” you exhaled. 

“Look, I’d never make you do anything you don’t want to,” Fred stated. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing, I’m just—” you yawned, “—really tired.” But that faraway look, the same one he had seen the previous week, was still there. 

“Come with me, I think I have just the thing that might lift your spirits.”

“Wh—”

Before you had the chance to object, he took you by the hand and led you down the hallway. You were silent the entire way there, except for Fred humming something under his breath; it sounded like something you heard on Hermione’s Muggle radio a long time ago, during one summer that you had spent with the Weasleys. 

You began to make your way up a narrow, winding staircase. For once, you found that your heart wasn’t beating out of your chest, and realized it was because Fred had slipped his hand into yours, the warmth and tightness of his grip keeping you steady. It made your claustrophobia fade into the darkness, reduced into nothing more than background noise. 

“It’s freezing,” your teeth began chattering as soon as he pushed the door open, a rush of cold air hitting your face. “My face feels like it’s going to crumble and fall apart.”

“Hold on…” he whispered, “the view is worth it, trust me.”

You followed him to the edge, leaning against the railing and glancing down at your entwined fingers. Fred began rubbing circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, staring at your hands as well. “I don’t get why you’d take a girl to the top of the Astronomy tower at night like this. It’s a bit nerve-wracking, if I’m being honest.”

“Can��t a man do a romantic gesture without being questioned?” his classic, joking voice made its return. “It’s not like I’m proposing to you, is it?” 

Your face flushed. “I guess…”

“I just wanted to ask you,” Fred cleared his throat, “what did you really see? In the mirror. It wasn’t the Burrow, was it?”

“I—I’m not sure. You’re supposed to see something change…right?”

“All I know is that you’re supposed to see your heart’s deepest desire.”

“I didn’t see anything.”

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

“I mean—” you almost didn’t want to admit it out loud. Admitting it out loud meant that you were admitting you cared for and loved him beyond reason, a pill that had been harder to swallow than you expected. “Nothing changed for me. I thought…I thought I’d see the things I always dreamed about. Seeing the world, having a complete family again, obtaining endless fame and glory…yet none of those appeared.”

“Then what was there?”

“Just you,” you said quietly. “I looked into the mirror, and I saw my reflection staring back at me. Our reflections, that is, and nothing else.” 

“Nothing else?” His knuckles brushed against your cheek, the motion sending your heart into overdrive. 

“Nothing else,” you repeated. 

“Y/N, I didn’t tell you why I was standing there for over two hours straight.”

“You didn’t do anything except just stand there?” 

Fred nodded. “It didn't feel very long, that’s the thing. Georgie would’ve told me I was going insane, Harry and Dumbledore would’ve too…I started to understand why someone would go mad staring into that mirror. It shows you everything you want; what you love and desire more than anything. How could one not lose their mind from something like that?”

“What did you see, then…?”

“We were in our ball attire again. You looked very pretty—not saying you don’t always look pretty—you were in your white dress. I had a red rose, probably the deepest shade of red I’ve ever seen, pinned to my robes. You’d think it was made of someone’s blood. Gorgeous, though.” 

“Fred…my dress wasn’t white.”

“I know it wasn’t.”

Oh. 

Oh.

Any and all remarks seemed to have died in the back of your throat. It was inevitable, you realized, the way you’d come back around to each other over and over and over again. 

Right then, an explosion in the distance snapped your attention back to the horizon. You gasped as you watched an extensive array of fireworks explode into the night sky. Brilliant trails of gold, silver, and pink blossomed across the pitch-black expanse, and you thought it was the most breathtaking thing you’d ever laid eyes on. 

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” you pointed at the sky, gazing upwards at the explosive, shimmering display. 

You were too busy staring at them to notice that he wasn’t paying attention to the view at all. 

“Beautiful,” he agreed, eyes never leaving you. 

You continued to watch the display in silence, turning around a few minutes later to see that his eyes were still on you, gazing at you wistfully. 

Suddenly, you’re overwhelmed by just how much love you had for the boy standing in front of you. Of course you hadn’t seen anything change—your heart’s deepest desire was right there and had been for years. You believed that if you just kept him at arm’s distance, then nothing would come of your relationship; that your feelings wouldn’t develop past the line of friendship and you wouldn’t fear for your life that you’d lose him forever. Much to your dismay, though, doing so was damn near impossible when he had staked a claim on your heart on the very first day you met.

“Fred—”

“You know I love you, right?” he murmured. “You don’t need to say it back right away—or at all—I just needed you to know. And I’ll say it as many times as I need you to hear it—”

You simply responded with a small smile before gently grasping his collar and pulling him downward, effectively silencing him by bringing your lips to his. 

A dizzying sensation spread through every inch of your body, sending you headfirst into a rapid tailspin with nothing to keep you from slowing down. You were free-falling from miles above; his lips were so warm and soft as they moved against yours with such a tenderness that threatened to melt you down to skin and bone. He tasted like steaming hot firewhisky and cinnamon on a cold winter morning and you never wanted to let go. 

The fireworks continued to stream across the sky, taking your rapidly beating heart along with it, and you allowed yourself to relish in the moment; sinking into his steady embrace. 

tags, inc. people who may be interested (based on last my fred post too lol): @htchnr @arkofblake @xhanthexzoria @pinkdaiisies @lovely-whale-is-lovely @antriimx