#ginny weasley x fem!reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kaciebello · 9 months ago

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Love accusations

Masterlist George Weasley x Gryffindor! reader (fem) Summary: 3 instances where you deny dating George, and the one where you don’t. Much to Fred's dismay. warnings: Mention of sex, swearing, no use of y/n Authors note: one-shot. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes beforehand. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ) Word count: 3k

A pair of Gryffindor sat on a sofa in a secluded part of the common room. The two had previously worked on their charms homework together, however, one had seemingly finished and moved on to a book, while the other one took avoiding it as his main mission in life. However, any attempt to get a reaction from the girl goes unnoticed by her. Disappointed he returned to doing his homework. They both fail to notice his twin approaching with their friend.

“You two ARE having sex!” Fred yells making some heads in the common room turn in their direction with curiosity. George jumps a bit in shock and looks at his brother. Eyes widening.

“Really? George, why didn't you tell me? I would have put my book down.” Says the girl lazily not even attempting to put her book down. She was not even bothered enough to pick up her gaze from it or bothered by her friend's antics.

“ We are not!” George argues back as Fred and Lee sit down opposite the couple. That however goes flat to their ears. Because if there is something Fred loves more than testing his brothers, it's teasing his twin brother.

“Fred, the only people having sex here, are the characters in my book.” She says, turning to another page. George leans over and tries to peek whether that is true or not. The girl shuts the book with a loud bang and places it gently on the table. Now finally giving all the attention to the overly loud Gryffindor duo. Lee's hand reaches for the book but she just swats it away.

“What do you want.” She asks.

“I want, you two to admit you're dating.” He says pointing a finger between her and George.

“Not gonna happen Fred.”

“Why not?”

“ Because we are not dating, easy as that.”

“Bullshit!” Fred yells and slams his fist onto the coffee table. She leans back into the sofa and just shakes her head dissapointly. Kicking her feet up on the coffee table and crosses her hands over her chest.

“You have no valid argument, Fred. I will not debate this with you if you have no evidence.” She says looking into Fred's eyes, knowing damn well it will fire the boy up. He narrows his eyes at her and nods as if telling her he will play her little game. Quickly he turns to Lee and they start whispering sometimes glancing at the pair. The two of them made it look like they just thought of a groundbreaking strategy in quidditch.

“ You know what you're doing, right?” George leans back and looks at the girl. Giving up on the homework at this point. She just smirks and nods. Lee and Fred turn back and simultaneously clear their throats.

“We have proof.” He says seriously and pokes Lee in his side with his elbow. The girl just raises her eyebrow before motioning them to continue. Lee sits up straight.

“ I have seen you two almost kiss in the corridor before.” He says very proud of himself. Fred started franticly nod and a smile spread across his face. Gorges's eyes widen a little at this information. The girl, however, remained unphased.

“ You can't prove that it was us. I could have been anyone.” She argues back, looking at her nails, seemingly bored. Fred's smile flatters a bit before he jumps up.

“I CAN RECOGNISE MY FACE ANYWHERE!” He yells and points at the girl. She just lifts her gaze and him.

“You didn't see us tho. Lee did. Hence, could have been anyone.” Fred's and George's faces snap to Lee who gulps very loudly. Looking nervous between the two brothers and the girl. Lee felt like in the front line of a war.

“ We walked together to the library after tho.” He says.

“ You walked together to the library after!” Fred repeats seeing this as his victory. Placing his hands on his hips and making a superhero pose. The girl just sighs and takes her legs off of the coffee table.

“ Are you jealous about me almost kissing George? Fine. I can almost kiss Lee if you want. Even you if you desire so much.” Whine leaves Geroge as Fred and Lee watch the girl in confusion.

“What.”

“You heard me, Weasley.” She says before getting up from her comfortable spot. Both Lee and Fred move a few inches back. She just chuckles and goes to pack her things. George sees this and goes to do the same.

“Plus it couldn't be me kissing George, as I fancy someone else.” She says after picking her book from the table and placing it in her bag.

“You do?” Say all 3 boys at the same time. She just rolls her eyes at their antics and turns to leave. George hurriedly followed her.

“ Where are you going?” Fred asks as both of them get up and move toward the exit. She just flashes him a smile.

“ To almost kiss your brother in the corridor.”

—

The four of them were on their way to Hogsmeade. The snow as fallen in a thick layer and all there was to do was some shopping. The twins wanted to buy some trinkets from Zonks, while Lee and the girl had only butter beer on their minds. Walking swiftly to get from the cold and hoping their younger siblings don't catch up on them and they would be forced to take them with. Fred and Lee led the group, while the other two were falling behind. Fred and Lee could be heard from miles away. George opted for a much quieter conversation with his partner.

“ When are we going to tell him?” asks George the girl next to him. “Don't get me wrong, it's hilarious, but I miss holding your hand.” He continues and his hand brushes over hers. Although he dubs she could feel it over her gloves. To be fair, George finds it as much fun as she does. He just sometimes misses her despite being right next to her.

“You can hold my hand whenever you want to, but, It's too much fun, it's like he's obsessed.” A smile spreads across her lips as she stops her movements and looks at the boy. He also stops and looks at the girl. Her hand extends to him as a gentle offering. He takes it as fast as he can. Walking closer to her, he places his other hand on her cheek. Smile adored both of them, as George leaned in, Smack.

Crumbs of snowball have fallen on her face, a giggle escaped her. George wipes his head around to see his brother and friend both with loaded-up snowballs. Before he can react, two more hit him. Effectively stunning him.

“OI! Hurry up you lovebirds!” yells Lee before he and Fred run in the direction of Three Broomsticks. George just curses and runs behind them. Leaving the girl to leisurely walk and meet them there.

When she got here, all of them had already shed their outdoor layers and had butterbeers sitting in front of them. One was in a space next to George waiting for her. She took her scarf and coat off. Something perked up Fred's attention.

“Is this your way of telling us?” He says pointing between her and George.

“Telling you what?” She asks, sitting down. Not even being able to take a sip of her drink before Fred spits other nonces.

“That you two are together.” Lee is however faster and suppresses his friend in the explanation. The girl just rolls her eyes before taking a sip. A foam mustache forms on her upper lip that she quickly wipes with the sleeve of her sweater. Momentarily stopping to progress something.

“ Guys, we have been over this.” Defends George this time. Fred just narrowed his eyes at him before pointing at the girl, who was still frozen.

“Explain this then!” He says and grabs the sleeve of the sweater she was wearing. “ This is your sweater!!” Sudden touch wakes the girl up and she retracts her hand.

“Again Fred, you can't prove that.” He looks at her in disbelief, lost for words from the sheer audacity of this girl. Groan leaves George and Lee is just laughing at his friends' antics.

“Oh? So the giant G on the front doesn't mean anything?” Recovers Fred rather quickly. George chokes on his butter beer and Lee goes to pat him on the back. The girl looks down and stretches the sweater. There is indeed a giant G on it. No dubbed Mrs. Weasly work as always. She wondered if she did it to help herself to keep track of whose laundry she was doing.

“It's just a G, could mean anything.” leaves her.

“G for George.”

“ Or G for Ginny, ya know? Your sister.” She says, raising her eyebrow at him.

“Why would you have my sister's sweater?” he asks accusingly. She just shrugs and takes another sip from her drink.

“ Why would I have George's one? I don't like him like that.” When she says it like that it makes sense for her to have Ginnys' sweater more than Georges.

“So you do like him!” Lee jumps on the accusation train. Another groan leaves George and he finishes his drink.

“Just how I like you, and Fred, and Padma, and Harry, And-”

“ Okay, okay, I get it.” Freds gives up and takes a sip. A smirk spreads on his face. “ So tell us, who do you fancy?”

“Hmmm, well, truth to be told, he's a Gryffindor, tall, and very cheeky and his name is- WELL would you look at that! I will get us another round.” She says and gets up from her spot. Knowing better than to take Fred's bait, she walked away to the bar. She can hear Fred turning to Lee and George.

“I'm telling you it's George, You can't fight me on this one!” Georges's giggles are heard throughout the tavern. “ Motherfucker, you ain't telling us shit!”

—

A scream is heard throughout the burrow, together with fast steps going down the stairs.

Harry, Hermione, and Lee turn to the sound startled. The 3 Weasleys, however, not even looking up from their card game. Fred places one card down making Ginny frown and carefully study her own. Ron just curses under his breath.

The girl appeared first with the other twin on her toes. She stops in front of the group, eyes gleaming with victory. George stops once he notices the other people, opting to just stand behind her.

“Are you okay?” Hermione asks, Placing her own card down without even looking. Ron curses again and tries to peak at Harry's cards. He just presses them to his chest, preventing him.

“Yeah, why?” The girl asks, clearly out of breath from running from the much faster boy behind her.

“ The scream?” Harry says, not really sure he wants to join the conversation. She just waves her arms at them.

“Oh no, don't worry. It's something George did.” The boy behind her straightens at his name. Looking at his sister who seemed to be winning the game with almost no effort.

“ Oh Merlin, he finally did it. He showed her the birthday suit.” Fred says.

“and it was SMALL.” Followed Lee, Fred's head snapped to his friend, he took full offense to that. Hemione's face twists in disgust. A small ‘ew’ can be heard from Ginny before she places another card on the table. Ron makes a fake gaging sound and George had nothing better than ‘dude’. The girl laughs at this.

“Oh Lee, I love you so much,” she says and goes to hug him. George whines and stops her by grabbing her upper arm.

“I can confirm that is not true mate.” Says Fred with full confidence. George just shakes his head. Hermione decided to force her cards on Harry, who was not very happy about it, and got up.

“I'm going to make some tea, you want some?” She says to the girl, she just nods and follower her to the kitchen.

“ Count me in!” Says Ginny as she places her last card on the table, successfully winning the game. Her brothers and friends just groan. Ron looks like he might cry at this point.

The girls moved to the kitchen where Mrs. Weasley was looking out the window, watching her older sons and husband work in the yard. She notices them walking into the kitchen and smiles at them. Ginny mentions something about tea and the girls sit down. After some time and bickering over what does and does not belong in tea, steaming cups were sat before them. Hermione breaks the silence.

“So, when are you gonna announce it?” Confused look from the girl, Mrs. Weasly just glances at them, seemingly paying them no mind. While she may be facing the window, her years are very much facing the three girls sitting at her dining table. Because be assured if something is going on with her children, under her roof, she is bound to know. The girls didn't even have time to answer before Ginny jumped in.

“Wait, are not just pretending to not know in front of Fred?” She asked, confused as well. Hermione stops putting sugar in her tea and fully turns to the girl. She grabs her hands into hers and looks her in the eyes.

“Are you?” The girl grows nervous. Curse Ginny and her watching people skills.

“I have no idea what you're on about Hermione.” she says with a full chest, then leans in and whispers.” Let's not talk about it in front of his mum!”

“Stop whispering, we all know something is going on between you and George. I know my brothers, and I know when they have that lovesick look.” Ginny blows on her tea before taking a sip. Somehow she manages to give both of them a pointed look.

“I know what you look like with that look too, don't start Ginny.” says the horrified girl, still not comfortable that Mrs. Weasly is there. Ginny goes red and just looks away. Speaking of the older woman, she turns to them.

“ Who has a lovesick look?” She asks with a smile that feels a little bit too threatening to all of them, although others may see it as the sweetest one.

“You when you look at dad. What is he doing anyway.” Ginny says hoping to change the subject. The older woman just huffs, turns around, and looks out the window again. Ginny leans forward to the other two before she whispers.

“I'm just saying, let it really be my sweater you borrow next time.” A smirk on her lips when she retries. With the corner of her eye, she sees her brother trying to catch a glimpse of the embarrassed girl.

—

“Source?” Lee asks.

“ Dude, trust me,” Fred answers.

“ You know I am physically unable to do that.” The two boys were hiding behind a bush. Good view of the pair sitting on the bench.

“ I too was advised, not to trust you.” Pipes in Collin, who was dragged into this mess by an accident. The poor boy wanted a picture of that tiny firework Fred had, instead, he dragged him to this when he refused to let him borrow his camera.

“Collin, this is the talk. This is the news! I need you to take a picture of them when they kiss.” Says Fred, a creepy grin on his face. Collin scared a bit just nods his head and gets in position. After a few good minutes of spying, Fred gets impatient and turns to Lee.

“Should we find a better spot? My feet kinda hurt from squatting.” He says but then a shutter goes off. A little photo comes from the camera and Fred grabs it.

“AHA, GOT YOU!” he jumps out waving it in the air and running to the startled couple. Scaring the couple that jumps away from each other a little. Lee and Collin follow behind him.

“What are you on about Fred?” Asks him, George. Still holding the girl that had her legs on his lap.

“ YOU TWO! KISSING! I GOT PROOF!” HE yells and shows them the picture. The girl just grabs it and looks at it. Fred is jumping up and down, hugging Collin and then Lee. Victory celebration. The girl gets up and walks to the poor younger Gryffindor. George is pulled up by Fred and forced to join a jumping hug.

“Hey Collin, can I keep this?” She asks the boy gently. He just nods, seemingly scared of the situation. The girl turns back to the three overgrown babies smile on her face. She can no longer argue about proof, as she was holding one in her hand. She turns to Collin again and tells him he can go. The boy just nods and runs away as fast as he can, very much terrified of his upperclassmen.

George wiggles out of the hug and makes his way to her. Cheers can be heard from his brother and friend. When they meet again, George stops right in front of her. One of his hands finds her waist and the other on her neck. They stay like this for a few seconds seemingly in their word, not noticing the cheers dying down. He leans in, their lips brush, when...

“Not in front of me Forge!” Yells Fred with the girl in his arms, running away with laughter, followed by Lee. George was frozen in his position, the girl missing from his arms. George shakes his head at his brothers' antics. Now that he looks at it, maybe living in denial wasn't the worst thing. Because if there is anything his twin loves more than teasing other people, is teasing him.

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webbluvrsugar · 3 months ago

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texts between Tom Riddle x hufflepuff!reader

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thewidowsghost · 4 months ago

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Separated in the Night (Ginny Weasley x Potter!Reader)

Masterlist

Anonymous asked: Hi, would you be able to do a fic about R(Harry's twin) and Ginny getting separated from their siblings - they're already dating - and R protecting Ginny as best she can from Death Eaters?

The cheers of the crowd echo through the stadium as the game reaches its peak.

“KRUM CATCHES THE SNITCH, BUT IRELAND WINS THE GAME!” Ludo Bagman’s voice roars across the stadium.

(Y/n) turns to her – secret – girlfriend, Ginny, beaming and bouncing with excitement. “That was incredible!” she takes Ginny’s hand, both their siblings distracted by their own excitement, squeezing it excitedly.

Ginny’s cheeks flush, “Yeah! I can’t believe we were able to see it in person!”

“Don’t tell your mother you’ve been gambling,” Mr. Weasley implore Fred and George as they all make their way slowly down the purple-carpeted stairs.

“Don’t worry, Dad,” says Fred gleefully, “we’ve got big plans for this money. We don’t want it confiscated.

Mr. Weasley looks for a moment as though he is going to ask what these big pans are, but seems to decide, upon reflection, that he doesn't want to know.

They are soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to their campsites. Raucous singing is borne towards them on the night air as they retrace their steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns keep shooting over their heads, cackling and waving their lanterns. When they finally reach the tents, nobody feels like sleeping at all, and given the level of noise around them, Mr. Weasley agrees that they could all have one last cup of cocoa together before turning in. They are soon arguing enjoyably about the match; Mr. Weasley gets drawn into a disagreement about cobbing with Charlie, and it is only when Ginny fell asleep right at the tiny table from beside (Y/n) and spilled hot chocolate all over the floor that Mr. Weasley calls a halt to the verbal replays and insists that everyone go to bed. Hermione, (Y/n), and Ginny go into the next tent, and Harry and the rest of the Weasleys change into pajamas and clamber into their bunks. From the other side of the campsite they can still hear much singing and the odd echoing bang.

. . .

Hermione, Ginny, and (Y/n) – who was fully dressed – hurry straight towards them, Hermione and Ginny pulling coats over their nightdresses, Mr. Weasley right behind them. At the same moment, Bill, Charlie, and Percy emerge from the boys’ tent, fully dressed like (Y/n), their sleeves rolled up and their wands out.

“We’re going to help the Ministry!” Mr. Weasley shouts over all the noise, rolling up his own sleeves. “You lot — get into the woods, and stick together. I’ll come and fetch you when we’ve sorted this out!”

“C’mon!” (Y/n) shouts, pulling Ginny with her. They push through the crowd, trying to stay together amongst the chaos. (Y/n) glances back, her heart pounding in her chest as she sees the masked wizards advancing, their wands raised.

“(Y/n), over here!” Harry’s voice reaches her, and she turns to see him and Ron beckoning them over. But just as they make a move towards them, a group of panicked people rushes between them, cutting them off.

“Harry!” (Y/n) calls out, but her voice is drowned out by the noise. She feels Ginny’s grip tighten on her hand, and she turns to see the fear in her girlfriend’s eyes. “We’ll find them,” (Y/n) promises, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her. “But right now, we need to stay safe.”

They run for the woods, the sounds of screams and spells echoing behind them. (Y/n) leads the way, her mind racing as she tries to think of a plan. We’ve got to find a safe place to wait this out, she thinks.

As they run, (Y/n) keeps her senses on high alert. She has a feeling these masked Death Eaters could be anywhere, and she’s determined to protect Ginny no matter what. They find a small clearing, and (Y/n) pulls Ginny down behind a fallen tree, both of them breathing heavily. “Are you okay?” she asks, her eyes scanning their surroundings.

Ginny nods, her face pale but determined. “I’m okay. What about you?”

“I’m fine,” (Y/n) says, though her heart is still racing. “We just need to stay here for a bit. Hopefully, the others will find us.”

They sit in silence for a moment, listening to the distant sounds of the battle. (Y/n) can feel Ginny trembling beside her, and she reaches out to take her hand once again, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“We’re going to be okay,” she says softly, her voice filled with determination. “I promise.”

. . .

Minutes stretch into what feels like hours as (Y/n) and Ginny huddle behind the fallen tree. The distant sounds of chaos gradually fade, replaced by an eerie silence. (Y/n) knows they can’t stay hidden forever; they need to find the others and get to safety.

“Let’s move,” she whispers to Ginny, helping her to her feet. They move cautiously, keeping to the shadows as they make their way through the woods. (Y/n)’s mind is racing, trying to remember the layout of the campsite and where they might find the others.

Suddenly, a rustle in the bushes makes (Y/n) freeze. She raises her wand, ready to defend them. Ginny does the same, her face set in determination. They hold their breath, waiting.

A masked figure steps out of the shadows, wand raised. (Y/n) reacts instinctively, sending a Stunning Spell towards the Death Eater. The spell hits its mark, and the Death Eater collapses to the ground.

“Come on,” (Y/n) urges, pulling Ginny with her. They start running again, not wanting to stick around in case more Death Eaters are nearby.

As they move deeper into the woods, (Y/n) tries to stay calm. She knows she has to be strong for Ginny, to keep her safe no matter what. They come across a small stream, and (Y/n) decides it’s a good place to stop and catch their breath.

“We should be safe here for a bit,” she says, kneeling down to splash some water on her face. Ginny does the same, looking around nervously.

“Do you think the others are okay?” Ginny asks, her voice trembling slightly.

“I hope so,” (Y/n) replies, trying to sound more confident than she feels. “Harry and Ron are smart; they’ll find a way to stay safe.”

They sit in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of the forest. (Y/n) tries to formulate a plan, but it’s difficult with so many unknowns. They need to find the others, but wandering through the woods aimlessly is dangerous.

“We should try to find the main path,” (Y/n) says finally. “It might be risky, but it’s our best chance of finding the others.”

Ginny nods in agreement, and they start moving again. As they make their way through the woods, (Y/n) keeps her wand at the ready, her senses on high alert. She can’t let her guard down, not with Death Eaters on the loose.

They finally reach the main path, and (Y/n) feels a glimmer of hope. They follow the path cautiously, keeping to the shadows. As they round a bend, they hear voices up ahead. (Y/n) motions for Ginny to stay quiet, and they move closer to investigate.

Peering through the trees, (Y/n) sees a group of Death Eaters standing in the clearing. Her heart sinks as she realizes they’re blocking the path. They need to find another way around.

“We’ll have to go back into the woods,” (Y/n) whispers to Ginny. “We can’t take them head-on.”

Ginny nods, and they start to backtrack. As they move away from the clearing, (Y/n) hears a twig snap behind them. She spins around, her wand raised, just in time to see another Death Eater emerging from the trees.

“Stupefy!” (Y/n) roars, sending the Stunning Spell towards the Death Eater. He dodges it, and (Y/n) barely has time to react before he sends a spell flying towards her. She deflects it, her heart pounding.

“Run, Ginny!” she yells, trying to keep the Death Eater’s attention on her. Ginny hesitates for a moment before nodding and taking off into the woods.

(Y/n) engages the Death Eater in a fierce duel, her movements quick and precise. She dodges his spells, sending her own back with equal force. She knows she can’t let him get to Ginny; she has to protect her at all costs.

With a final, powerful spell, (Y/n) manages to disarm the Death Eater, sending him sprawling to the ground. She doesn’t waste any time, turning and running after Ginny.

She finds her a few meters away, hiding behind a tree and clutching at her ankle. “Are you okay?” (Y/n) asks, breathing heavily.

Ginny nods, tears in her eyes. “I think I sprained my ankle, but other than that, I’m fine. Thank you.”

(Y/n) pulls her into a tight hug, relief washing over her. “We’ll get through this,” she says softly. “Together.”

. . .

The sun begins to rise, casting a pale light over the forest. (Y/n) and Ginny, exhausted, keep moving, determined to find their way out of these woods and back to the others. The fear of being found by more Death Eaters keeps both girls on edge.

Ginny, whose ankle had started to throb harshly, leans heavily on her girlfriend, who’d wrapped an arm around Ginny’s waist, her wand leveled in her left hand.

They stay close together as they catch sight of more voices, and (Y/n) almost sobs in relief when she sees Bill.

“Bill,” Ginny calls, choking back a sob at the sight of her eldest brother.

“Dad! Harry!” Bill calls, and Mr. Weasley and Harry emerge from the tent.

“Thank God,” Harry embraces his sister, who still hadn’t let go of Ginny – or her wand.

“You’re okay,” Mr. Weasley chokes out, embracing his daughter tightly.

“Thanks to (Y/n),” GInny says. “She was so brave.”

“Thank you,” Mr Weasley says.

“Of course,” (Y/n) breathes, still shaking from exhaustion.

. . .

The familiar, crooked Burrow appears in the distance, and a sense of relief washes over (Y/n).

Mrs. Weasley rushes out of the house, her face pale with worry.

“Oh, my dears!” she cries, enveloping Ginny and (Y/n) in a tight hug. “Thank Merlin you’re all safe!”

“We’re okay, Mum,” Ginny reassures her, though her voice trembles. “We’re all okay.”

Mrs. Weasley looks over at (Y/n), her eyes filled with gratitude. “Thank you, (Y/n). For keeping Ginny safe.”

(Y/n) nods, a rush of emotions making her unable to speak.

Inside the Burrow, the atmosphere is tense but filled with relief. Mr. Weasley and the older boys discuss the attack in hushed tones, trying to make sense of what happened. Mrs. Weasley fusses over everyone, making sure they’re all fed and comfortable.

(Y/n) and Ginny find a quiet corner in the living room, sitting together on the couch. (Y/n) can see the exhaustion in Ginny’s eyes, the weight of the night’s events pressing down on her.

“We’re safe now,” (Y/n) whispers, brushing a strand of hair from Ginny’s face. “It’s over.”

Ginny nods, leaning into (Y/n)’s embrace. “Thank you,” she says, her voice barely audible. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

(Y/n) holds her close, feeling a deep sense of love and protectiveness. “You don’t have to thank me,” she replies softly. “I’ll always be here for you, Ginny. Always.”

Word Count: 1942 words

#ginny weasley x fem reader #ginny weasley x female reader #ginny weasley x reader

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blueberrymash · 2 months ago

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james sirius potter - the star boy

·˚ ༘ just some headcanons on what I think harry potter's eldest son would be like

·˚ ༘ 1.4k words

- he's a big marvel fan and he lovess miles morales (he literally wants to be him), if he had a girlfriend he'd beg her to go as miles and gwen for halloween. literally don't talk to him about any superhero stuff though, he'll talk your ear off he's such a fanboy and gets like a little kid whenever he talks about batman, spiderman or captain america.

- he's extremely popular like almost ridiculously so. he has a huge friend group and everyone except maybe for the slytherins like and respect him. nobody says that they don't like james sirius potter and if anyone within the gryffindor house would even utter one bad word about him, they would definitely be frowned upon

- some say he's like a carbon copy of his father, because they're so similar in so many aspects (they're both sassy boys).

- OH he's absolutely a fuck boy. there's not a single doubt in my mind that he is. he's not against having a girlfriend but she'd definitely have to be super popular as well and stand out from the masses. he'd never date someone shy or introverted, since he's like "if the word 'extroverted' was a person" if you know what I mean. he just wants somebody to match his freak and do crazy irresponsible shit with. he's also the type of person who loves to go out & socialize so he'd need to date somebody who's also like that. he also needs to release the pent up energy inside him so staying in all of the time just isn't an option for him. but he would have introverted friends.

- he likes to make out with hot girls at parties and forget their name in the morning. he likes to drink and sometimes smoke as well. he's the life of the party, always animating everyone to dance and drink and play games, always doing smalltalk with everyone and remembering little details about them but forgetting the big things (like their name lmao). he's a beer pong champion and in general really good at all the party games. he's just like a party animal

- he always knows the right things to say at the right time and people adore him for it. he genuinely cares about everyone in his year, even the slytherin outcasts. if he sees someone crying or hurt he doesn't care who you are or which house you're in, he's cheering you up

- he likes to be the center of attention. whenever his dad is followed by paparazzi or journalists, he makes a show out of talking to them, posing for the cameras until he's pulled away by ginny. she's honestly so done with him by now because he's such a sucker for attention lmaoo. but then he ends up in like famous wizard magazines (even the daily prophet) and he just has the biggest, most smug grin on his face when he sees his picture, it definitely encourages him to keep giving the paparazzi what they want

- he's also a family guy even if he doesn't get along with albus that well. he loves his little sister lily though and his mom and his dad. christmas with his family is his favorite thing because he loves their little traditions. he always puts great care in what he gets eveyone as a present and he loves it when lily's face lights up when he gets her that exact thing she wanted. he also loves his grandmother (slayy grandma molly) and he always proudly wears the sweaters that she knits him! the whole weasley-potter-delacour and whatnot family always has a big get-together ont the 25th or 26th of december and that's where james whips out his guitar and performs the christmas songs he's been working on perfecting all season.

- he lovesss quidditch and dancing and he'd actually be the type to start kpop dancing or something and he'd be AMAZING like actually breathtaking. he's the only thing you can look at while he performs on stage, he's just the golden boy. he'd go to training like everyday when he's at home and while he's at school he'd practice on his own! he really looks up to celestia warbeck and wants to be the male version of her when he's older! definitely he's really dedicated and I can imagine him being in like a boy group when he's older or going on to be a solo performer

- he can also sing and play the guitar, bro writes his own songs! his voice is the one of an angel and whenever he sings at a gryffindor bonfire or party, the whole room is drawn to him, falls for him. he dreams of being an entertainer or professional quidditch player later in his life and he's honestly made for it as well. the scouts who watch him play or dance always eat whatever he does up. he's literally destined to be a superstar, plus he also has great advantages from being a nepo baby.

- he's not that good at school though, except maybe for flying class and some random subject like divination (let's be honest, only because he flirts with professor trelawney), he'll just get some ravenclaw girl to tutor him though

- he's the type to take feminist literature to a café and pretend he's reading it lmaoo. it's not like he's not a feminist or doesn't support women's rights (he loves women), the boy just doesn't read books, like at all. he just wants to pick up women with the feminist literature and he'll pretend like he's read the book.

- honestly he'd even listen to lana del ray or taylor swift and he's not embarrased or scared he'll be seen as gay or soft. he knows he's straight (maybe even a little heteroflexible) and cis and he doesn't feel threatened in his masculinity when a gay boy comes and flirts with him, he sees it as an honour and politely declines, I mean, he even has gay friends and gay cousins and bro let's be honest, even though he isn't out yet, his brother's definitely a bit fruity for his best friend scorpius. he's not scared of rumours about his identity or sexuality, people can misinterpret him, he literally doesn't care.

- unbothered king!! you either love him or you hate him but he literally doesn't care, he can be so nonchalant and can definitely break a girl's heart cause he literally DOES NOT CARE TUT and he's definitely gotten himself into a lot of situationships (like I said, he's a fuckboy) but he will only ever get with a girl he is in love with, he doesn't just bring any girl home to his momma, she'd have to be special

- apropos, he is such a mama's boy! not like those boys who's momma is in love with them and hates every girlfriend their son brings home, no, that's obviously not ginny, but he just honestly loves his mom! he likes to go shopping with her and lily or go get their nails done with them (yes, he also loves those pretty nails with designs, not the long acrylic ones obviously but the short ones. he practically advanced from just painting his nails black to getting designs on them)

- the best way to be in james' life is honestly to either be one of his cousins or friends. his friends are literally like family to him and he's so loyal to them. also he's such a fun friend and always comes up with the best ideas, it's never boring with him. he's also open to doing so many different things, depending on what his freinds are like. if you're introverted and like staying in, he'll literally just do that with you and yes, he'll even watch gossip girl and do face masks, he doesn't mind, he just likes spending time with his friends. he'll enjoy whatever he does as long as its with a friend. and if you're one of his cousins he'll literally treat you like a sibling / best friend because all of his cousins are his best friends

- he's sooo generous and caring. you haven't eaten all day and feel like you're about to die from starvation? have his entire sandwich and let him bring you a plate of food from the house elves kitchen to your room. you feel like throwing up? bbg he'll hold your hair while you're puking and give you back rubs. you don't have anything to do in the summer holidays? come with him on the potter family holiday to spain! he literally just wants his loved ones to be happy and he'll do anything for their happiness

y'all want more?

#james sirius potter •⪩⪨•#hp next gen x reader #harry potter next gen x reader #james sirius potter x fem!reader #harry potter #harry potter next generation #james sirius potter x reader #james sirius potter #james sirius potter headcanons #albus severus potter #lily luna potter #james sirius potter x platonic!reader #ginny weasley #molly weasley #grandma molly weasley

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yelenaslyubov · 11 months ago

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well hello friends!!!

long time, no see. i hope you all survived the 2023 year fairly well. if not, i hope that 2024 brings in all the good energy you could ever want!

my time here has not been consecutive whatsoever for over the past year, and i do apologize for that. i have had a lot of life changes throughout that time and i have been trying to prioritize my studies more than anything. with that, i have one more semester left of university!! while my main focus will be school, i do want to try and return to my roots and get back into writing which is what i love. i’m currently working on a piece and brainstorming elements of this, and i hope to complete it by this week…. but we shall see!

i know so many of you have been along for my tumblr ride and this journey really began with @youreatotalposer . you all got to see the before and middle of our relationship on here which has been so special. we’ve come a long way and this space is where we first met and i’m excited to announce that only a few months ago did we break the distance! kayak moved up here so we were able to start a new little family; myself, her, and our kitty ‘fig!’ we love our little family so much and we’ve had so much fun thus far sharing our life with you all! it’ll only go up from here🤍

with this, i also know the dynamic of tumblr has changed since i’ve been extremely active, as well as new people have created their own creative space. i would love to make more friends on here and become mutuals, so whether you’re new to my space or it’s been a while since we’ve connected feel free to reach out!! also, if anyone has any blog recommendations that i may not follow definitely tag them so i can interact with them! i would love to reconnect with this wonderful space and find joy in my old passions once again. i will of course continue with the previous characters and people i have written for, but i would like to know what people would think about fics written for ‘yellowjackets’ and ‘harry potter’ characters?? if anyone has any thoughts about these new additions let me know! i wanna see if there’s a decent amount of interest in these ideas before i decide to dive right in. if there are characters outside or inside of these fandoms you are interested in, do not hesitate to visit my inbox and reach out to see my thoughts on them!

i’m excited to timidly make my return here and i hope to talk to many new and old faces soon🫶🫶

p.s. figgy wanted to make her tumblr debut and say hello!!🐈‍⬛

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lostmyremembrall · 2 years ago

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𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐁𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑥 𝐺𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑦 𝑊𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑦 (𝑑𝑒𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛) 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐻𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑟, 𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒 𝐵𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝐻𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑟, 𝐶𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑠𝑚 𝐻𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑟

Chaser 2 Prompt: Carrie Optional Prompts: Ginny Weasley, Red, A Character Descending Into Madness

Recommended Music: Tick Tack, Tick Tack by Ben Frost

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“Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, a world without end,” she whispered to herself. At her chest, she clutched a black-beaded rosary, the cross giving off a rattle at her every shaky breath. Her hands, folded tightly, were trembling, her knuckles turning white with sheer force. “Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was–”

“Sister Ginevra?”

She gasped, returning to reality. The room was dark. Confined. Suffocating. Only puffs of her shallow breathing were audible.

“Are you there, Sister Ginevra?” that calm, velvety dulcet voice spoke again.

Ginevra blinked rapidly several times, her eyes shifting towards the light. A pair of grey eyes watched her from the dark. Through the lattice of oak wood, Ginevra saw the pale, gaunt face of Father Thomas. He was leaning towards her, his sincere eyes studying her. The cool white of the daylight from a nearby window hazily illuminated the side of his face, his slender nose casting a stark shadow on his high cheekbones.

“Yes…” the voice that left her lips was feeble. “Yes, I’m here.”

Regaining her grounding, she crossed her heart and began what was quickly becoming her routine. “Forgive me father, for I have sinned.”

For days she’s waited to have this time with Father Thomas, recounting and weighing what to tell: what she saw, what she heard. What she felt. But, now that she was here, the lines she had practised on her way were lost, all of a sudden. She found herself searching for the right words as her eyes wandered through the dark, as if attempting to find them somewhere in the depths of the shadow.

“So,” it was Father Thomas who broke the silence first. “How is your nightmare?” he asked softly.

Ginevra shook her head. There was no point in sugarcoating it; Father Thomas most likely knew the answer already from the heavy bags underneath her eyes.

“This is a punishment, isn’t it,” she asked in what did not sound like a question at all. Her eyes flickered down to her hands, toying with her rosary. The black beads glinted in the shadow, its stringed eyes casting a reproachful look up at her. “But… I cannot control it,” she choked, crumbling in front of the Father's judgement.

“You must, Ginevra,” Father’s voice was vigorous and charismatic, like the voice of God himself. “Your age–, the time when a girl blossoms into a woman, is the most vulnerable.” Ginevra nodded absentmindedly, thinking back to the many times the older Sisters repeated the same words. Control yourself, they often said, or the devil controls you.

“All these emotions and carnal desires… it’s overwhelming, is it not?”

Ginevra nodded fervently as she clutched her skirt in her fists, watching it wrinkle.

Father Thomas watched her sympathetically. “It is not your fault,” he continued. “It is not your fault, Ginevra. The blood of Eve runs through you.”

He sighed, helplessly shaking his head in defeat as he beheld the pitiful sight of Ginevra sobbing.

“Look,” intuiting she was too preoccupied to respond, he added. “Sister Margaret told me you’ve been here the longest out of all the children. Orphaned. Is that true?”

Ginevra sniffed, and in the midst of trying to calm her breathing, managed to nod.

“God will not forsake you, Ginevra,” Father Thomas delicately placed his fingers against the lattice, as if trying to reach her. “You’re strong. Brave. Stronger than this,” he whispered.

Ginevra swallowed hard and nodded once more. Finally finding the strength to look Father in his eyes, the crisscrossed shadow of the lattice now branded Ginevra’s pale features. Her freckled cheeks were stained with fresh tears. The bags underneath her eyes foretold many sleepless nights. But, as she stared at him straight on, Sister Ginevra looked just about ready to face anything head-on.

Father’s features softened at Ginevra who had now managed to put on a smile. “God will not forsake you,” he repeated, his eyes giving off a zealous shimmer that was quite infectious. “Next time you’re overwhelmed by it, breathe deeply, hold your bible, like so,” he pointed to her worn-out book and demonstrated holding tight to his chest. “And your prayers will be answered,” he smiled, his eyes full of conviction.

This time, Ginevra couldn’t help but let a smile break out on her lips. She welcomed and rejoiced the serenity that embraced her once more.

Content with her peace, Father Thomas smiled. “Lord has freed you from your sins,” he did not need to speak out loud, knowing you had memorised them anyway. “You may go in peace.”

“Thanks be to God. And,” Ginevra turned her still tearful eyes to the Father. “Thank you, Father.” She clutched the Bible to her chest, the golden print of her name and the address of Vauxhall Road gleaming in the sun.

She stepped out of the confessional.

Liberated. Carefree, once again. Like how she’s always been.

—-----------

“I just don’t think she’ll get away with it,” Angelina was rolling her eyes.

“No, I promise, I’ve seen it,” Lavender ignored her friend’s knowing smirk and continued in a hushed whisper. “Sister Narcissa says confiscation. But I’ve seen her steal Astoria’s lipstick!”

“Why on earth would she have a use for that?” Ginevra’s voice was quiet yet assertive, suppressing laughter in front of a stern Sister Andromeda that they happened to walk by. With a side glance, she followed the old woman until they were out of earshot. “Isn’t she, what, 70 or so?”

“More like 80,” Angelina squinted as they stepped foot into the courtyard. The sun was bright today: a sign of the coming spring in the cool breezes that gently passed by.

“Ugh,” Lavender, as always comically exaggerated in her gestures, placed her fists on her hips, clearly offended. “So? What, we just become boring and miserable when we turn old?”

Ginevra scoffed. “Boring and miserable? Honestly, Lav, when was the last time anything remotely interesting happened at the Monastery of Our Lady Magdalene?” watching Angelina nod in affirmation out of the corner of her eyes, she challenged Lavendar.

“Wellll,” Lav cast a meaningful glance towards Ginevra’s left. Ginevra followed her gaze to find Father Thomas in the corner of the courtyard, chatting with the gardener, most likely discussing the flowers to plant in the coming month.

With a strong jawline and perfectly combed hair, the new Father Thomas was the target of many wistful sighs and dreamy gazes in the all-girls convent. The clerical collar wrapped around his pale throat, and the all-black attire emphasised his tall and lean figure.

He was young to be a priest, his quick wits and intelligent eyes signalling to her that he must have skipped a few grades. His smooth complexion still held remnants of his boyish youth. His cheeks bloomed ecstatically when discussing Jesus. When he stood on the altar, his grey eyes shimmered passionately, changing colours in the kaleidoscopic lights of the rose window.

Ginevra had wondered several times before how many women wept at the news that he was becoming the messenger of Christ. But all the while, Ginevra had to say Father Thomas was born to be a priest. Her thoughts were interrupted, however, when the Father’s keen eyes flickered over to her.

“Yeah, he is quite fit, isn’t he?” Angelina’s playful voice seemed distant to her all of a sudden. Everything seemed to slow down as Father Thomas’ eyes appeared to follow her, even through the trees and sisters that passed between them.

Ginevra hummed absentmindedly as he finally blinked away, returning his full attention to the gardener.

“I suppose that man would drive anyone to depravity,” Lav murmured, and Ginevra finally tore her eyes away.

“Come on then, we’re gonna be late,” Ginevra sighed, picking up her speed and deciding to pull the sleeves of her two friends. “Sister Margaret isn’t going to take ogling at Father Thomas as an excuse.”

The very vocal complaints did not stop all the way to the classroom as Angelina and Lav staggered behind her, making it just in time for the afternoon Bible study. Ginevra bit her lips under the stern gaze of Sister Margaret, taking her seat in the usual spot between the two.

The bible study was, as always, mundane. Sister Margaret was not one of those gifted with public speaking, as her lecture droned on, her eyes piercing the Bible in front of her. ‘Lively Molly’ they sometimes called her, which did not fail to confuse the newcomers every time. Naturally, the class fell into the routine trance, including Ginevra, whose eyes drifted longingly to the view outside.

“The name of the Lord is a safe tower–,” Sister Margaret’s voice went in and out of focus.

Ginevra winced at the sudden tinnitus. But, soon came to realise that it was actually a phone ringing. She blinked away the drowsiness, awoken by the ringing that was effectively now functioning as an alarm clock. In the midst of the confusion, she found the phone, tucked away in the corner of the wall by the entrance. All these years she’d lived here, when she thought she had every detail memorised, she was surprised to find a phone there.

Sister Margaret sighed, visibly irritated by the intrusion, and shuffled towards it. The eyes of every girl in the room followed the occurrence that has never happened before – at least, not in her experience.

Sister did not hesitate to show her annoyance when she picked up the phone. The hmms and huhs pursued.

Her eyes flickered over to Ginevra, causing her to sit up. Sister Margaret raised a finger, and gestured for her to come over.

In a screech that seemed obnoxiously loud, Ginevra slowly pulled back her wooden seat and stood up. Her fists clutched her skirt as she manoeuvred her way to the Sister.

“For you,” was all Sister Margaret said as she passed the phone.

Taken aback by the unconventionality of it all, she took the phone, failing to come up with anyone who had the business of calling her. With one last sideway glance at her classmates, then at Sister Margaret, she turned to the corner for any privacy available to her in this very public room.

There was constant static and cracking that caught her by surprise. Despite the dreadful silence of the room, she closed her right ear, attempting to catch anything organic. Then, amidst the chaos, as if buried in the depths of static sand, a voice. Ginevra’s brows knitted, pushing the receiver further against her ear.

The calm, velvety, dulcet voice reached out to her through the cracks.

“Father Thomas?” Ginevra asked, her voice involuntarily getting louder against the static. “Father Thomas, is that you?”

Ginevra turned her head to Sister Margaret, who was continuing to watch the exchange in silence. Her usually stern frown was replaced with a sympathising look.

“Father Thomas,” Ginevra turned to the corner again at his voice that was becoming audible, enough for her to decipher that, at this point, Father Thomas was repeating the same message in an attempt to reach her.

“Father Thomas, the connection seems to be–,”

Ginevra’s voice trailed off, however.

Amidst the constant, callous crackling, Father Thomas’ voice resurfaced from the sand to voice the words, “There will be blood.”

She doubted her ears as she clung to the receiver. “Father?” her voice was shaky, submerged by the loud static.

He did not respond. In the distorted, monotonous voice that almost did not sound human, the voice repeated. As if the message has been recorded to be delivered right to her ear.

The same four words. Over and over.

Before she knew it, Ginevra had slammed the receiver on the wall.

Her breath fogged up the glass, temporarily obscuring her behind the white veil. When the veil receded, she did not recognise the reflection that she saw in the mirror. Her sharp nose. Her jutting cheekbones. Her freckles splattered. Technically speaking, they were the same shape, size, placed in their correct locations as they’ve always been.

But, in the mirror, the individual pieces had become distorted. Her left eye larger. Her nose cracked into two. off-centre to the right. Her lips off-centre to the right. Mutilated and Misplaced.

She did not know the girl that stood in front of her. This poor girl forced to the cliff of her childhood. Her sombre eyes caught sight of herself. Her hair frazzled and wild like they’ve not been combed for years. The fear, tremor etched into those steely blues at the metamorphosis she was beholding in the cracked reflection.

Strong. Brave.

The girl raised her head. Proud.

The girl in the mirror raised a hand. In her right, a shard of a broken mirror. In her left, she clutched a fistful of her hair.

Like a river, the red cascaded down her sides.

“Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, a world without end.”

Ginevra gasped for air and tore her eyes open.

She wasn’t sure if she’d just fallen asleep and woken.

The space held a hyperrealistic detail to it, but she had no recollection of how she got here.

Like she’s always existed here in this spot.

Her careful eyes surveyed around her: an empty corridor. It was the annexe, the extra bedrooms haphazardly added as the number of sisters grew. Ginevra now stood in one of the many that faced the sister’s bedrooms, each corridor diverging and meandering like a maze. It was dusty, as always. And abnormally cold, like someone had left the window open.

Ginevra took a hesitant step forward, knowing the comfort of her own room awaited at the end of the corridor on her left. At the end of the current hallway, a window. From the looks of it, the dead of the night. In the deafening silence, the familiar hallway had never looked so foreign. Obsolete. Desolate.

Ginevra dragged her bare feet, her toes cold against the wood, to turn left.

The door on her left closed with a quiet thud.

Ginevra gasped. She breathed deeply, trying to compose herself. In the dim moonlight, she just about made out the metallic glint of 4 on its door. Lav’s room.

Ginevra stepped towards the same door that she leapt away from a mere second ago.

“Lav?” she whispered, knocking quietly yet somewhat urgently on the door. “Lav, are you awake?”

There was no response.

Ginevra swallowed hard. “Lav, it’s me,” she raised her voice.

The hallway was as silent as ever. Not a single whisper, cough, or rustling of the bed cover.

Ginevra looked at the sturdy door, intent on shutting her out.

“Lav…” Ginevra refused to acknowledge the feebleness in her voice, “Lav, was that–, was that you?”

The door remained lifeless and still. The silence was deafening, save for the huffs of her shallow breathing.

Ginevra felt a chill run down her spine, and with one last apprehensive look at the door, began walking to her room once more.

She had not taken more than a few steps when there was a click of a door knob. She turned her head, to find the door ajar once again. Ginevra watched nervously, her fingers subconsciously reaching for the rosary. She watched, waiting for Lavendar to poker out from behind the door, laughing and smiling at her.

But, in its ominous silence, nothing came.

Ginevra was now clutching the rosary tight in her fist as she turned around. Eager to reach the warmth of her room, her feet quickened. She clutched her black-leathered Bible against her chest. She dashed to her door, a sliver of warm light spilling from underneath it. How quickly her carefree youth abandoned her to fumble in the dark, searching for the dulled metallic glint of the doorknob. Ginevra ran a hand through her frazzled dark willowed hair that was obstructing her view, and reached out to the doorknob.

It slipped out of her palm.

Ginevra gasped, immediately withdrawing her hands. She stared at the dark smear on its dull metal. Her brows knitted, wondering where on earth it came from.

Ginevra squinted in the dark at her hands.

It was dark, viscous, and smelled of iron.

She felt her heart drop.

She had no recollection of how it got there. But, the string of the droplet that rapidly made its way to the floor, was unquestionably blood.

She screamed, rubbing away the thick coat of blood on the nearest cloth she could find: her white nightrobe.

“God will not forsake me. God will not forsake me,” she was now frantically whispering the same words the Father spoke to her. But, however many times she dragged her hands across the cloth, her hands seemed to be getting coated with more blood.

She was sobbing now. The strong scent of iron struck her nostril as she wiped away the tears with her fingers. She wanted to get back to her room now, more than ever. To fall asleep like everyone else and pretend everything was the same as always.

She shut her eyes, willing them to all go away. But, God was unforgiving to a girl who’d lost control.

When her eyes opened, she was still alone in the dark, the waist of her white robe now drenched in blood.

She slumped down to the floor but immediately jumped back, however, at the warm liquid she felt on her fingertips. She pushed herself up against the wall, watching in horror, as the black liquid continued to pool on the wooden floor. In the dim moonlight, she made out the blood that was coming from underneath the door, silently creeping towards her.

“Leave me alone,” She knew nobody was there to listen to her measly plea for help, yet Ginevra still whimpered, tasting the salt and blood in her mouth. She flailed her arm, in a futile attempt to shoe the liquid away.

The cross rattled. Ginevra’s eyes stopped at the rosary, now giving an obsidian, wet glint drenched in blood, still clutched in her hand. Swiftly, her eyes searched for the worn-out book. Ginevra reached for the Bible, just a few centimetres away from the lapping blood, still on the floor from the time she was wiping her hands.

Ginevra flipped the pages of the black-leathered book frantically. There was a loud bang, causing her to jump. She whipped her head towards the sound to find the wind that had pushed the window open. It was abnormally strong for indoors, causing the pages to flip and her blood-crusted hair to fly in all directions, obstructing her view. She squinted, and flipping to the desired page once more, began reading out loud. “I’ve commanded you to be brave and strong–”

The air flipped the book out of her hands. There was that phone ringing again in the distance, getting closer and louder. She clambered for the book once again and continued, now shouting over the ringing, “Don’t be alarmed or terrified, because the Lord your God is with you wherever you go–”

Her voice trailed off helplessly as the words of God began to disappear. She watched in shock at the sections of writing that began to dissolve into paper, as if the ink was dissipating in water.

“No,” her voice now devoid of hope at salvation, she muttered. “No, no, no, no, no…”

She flipped through the pages hysterically, searching for any remaining words. Index. A page number. Anything.

Her fingers dragged over the blank pages, leaving bloodied fingerprints.

Ginevra knitted her brows, as, through her fingerprints, the black ink floated to the surface. It was handwritten in elegant, elongated curves.

“You’ve lost control,” The line surfaced, its reproving words condemning her.

She stared at what was either a miracle or her hallucination. A single tear made its way down her cheek, onto the page. "I've tried, Father. " Ginevra was pleading before she knew it. "I promise, I tried," she sobbed into the crook of her elbow. Her hands folded over the pages, her body bent forward, begging for forgiveness.

“Control yourself or be controlled by the devil.”

“It didn’t work,” she banged a condemning fist against the blank page. “You said it’ll work!”

Ginevra raised her teary eyes just in time to see the words "It is not your fault," dissolve into the page.

Ginevra sniffed her nose. In the roaring wind, its pages fluttered violently. There was a glimmer of hope. The end of a tunnel. That despite it all, God may have had the heart to forgive her. The sound did not reach her ears as Ginevra's teary eyes watched the book expectantly for its next line.

“The blood of Eve runs through you.”

Something had snapped within her.

All those moments she’d tried, worked exceedingly hard.

The prayers in the freezing cold chapel. Rules and punishments for every minuscule act.

How to dress. How to speak. How to think.

It was never enough. No matter how hard she tried, it was never going to be enough. Her prayers were never going to be answered.

She gritted her teeth. The knuckles turned white as she gripped the book. In a fit of blinding rage, she grasped the shard of the broken mirror. The deafening sound was her own scream. Tears and blood ran down her cheeks.

The last thing she saw was the reflection of her wild blue eyes, her raging red hair, and her bared teeth as she plunged the shard into the Bible.

A/N: Thank you for reading! This was originally posted as part of the Quidditch League Competition on fanfiction.net

I chose to write from Ginny’s perspective as an unreliable narrator to emphasise her descent into madness. I tried to leave everything ambiguous as possible, sort of like absurd realism. Is this the devil’s work? Or is this simply the somatisation of the psychological distress from repressing her emotions, sexuality, etc.? Is Father Thomas the devil incarnate or is he simply the figurehead of repression that Ginny subconsciously tied to her experiences? (The visual connection of the bible to Tom Riddle’s diary, which Father Thomas promised Ginevra would work.) From what point on is it Ginny’s hallucination? And so on.

I also tried to add some allegorical meaning. Like her room, that is described as a space of safety and warmth, was her desire to return to the ‘womb’ so to speak, where she is allowed to remain a child. Her friends are still in their respective rooms. Lav may have considered letting her back into a bedroom, but ultimately, Ginevra’s never allowed back in.

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weasleyreidstyles · 11 months ago

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Serendipity Masterlist

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

series status: currently on hold (but not for long!!🙈)

“serendipity is the phenomenon of discovering something interesting or valuable by chance”

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. All characters are aged up to be over 18. and bellatrix isn't mattheo's mother in this fic (just fyi)

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

general warning(s): 18+ content, angst, fluff, some canon compliance, some canon divergence, typical wizarding world violence, war, torture, drugging, hospitals, familial problems, mean!harry, mean!ron....

** indicates smut warning

~∞~ chapter one

chapter summary: on the trainride to your sixth year, your friends give you a proposition that you can't refuse.

~∞~ chapter two

chapter summary: it's your first day back as a sixth year student. Classes are more intense and your first lesson with Mattheo ensues.

~∞~ chapter three

chapter summary: the first Hogsmeade trip of the year has a rather unpleasant ending.

~∞~ chapter four

chapter summary: after you end up confined to the Hospital Wing, you're surprised when Professor Dumbledore pays you a visit.

~∞~ chapter five

chapter summary: Mattheo has been avoiding you. You find and confront him after a frustrating week.

~∞~ chapter six **

chapter summary: the growing tension between you and Mattheo snaps. He reveals something about yourself that you has scarcely any prior knowledge of.

~∞~ chapter seven

chapter summary: joyful dinner parties and a switch in point of view. Two juxtaposing starts to the christmas holidays.

~∞~ chapter eight **

chapter summary: you're given plenty of revelations: all equally as daunting as the other.

~∞~ chapter nine

chapter summary: Ginny ambushes you in the library and Ron's birthday is off to a delirious start.

~∞~ chapter ten

chapter summary: in the aftermath of Ron's poisoning, Harry learns a thing or two about where your loyalties lie when he overhears your private conversation with the headmaster.

~∞~ chapter eleven

chapter summary: intent on avoiding him, you underestimate just how desperate Mattheo is to be around you.

~∞~ chapter twelve

chapter summary: new friendships are formed and you finally learn to control your abilities. Mattheo comes to a life altering realisation.

~∞~ chapter thirteen **

chapter summary: idk how to summarise this but i will say it's pure smut...enjoy

~∞~ chapter fourteen

chapter summary: friendships are rekindled and you save Draco from certain death in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, igniting your powers in the process.

~∞~ chapter fifteen

chapter summary: now fully recovered, Draco has a task to complete. The fate of the Wizarding World hangs in the precipice of his actions.

~∞~ chapter sixteen

chapter summary: after a startling and gutting discovery. secrets are revealed and alliances are questioned as Voldemort's tyranny begins to fester into the beginnings of another war.

*invisible string fits into the plot here!!*

~∞~ chapter seventeen

chapter summary: Dumbledore's funeral reveals new allies as you navigate a world without its protector.

~∞~ chapter eighteen

chapter summary: with his new role as a secret spy of the Order, Mattheo begins to grapple with the consequences of the horrors that occur at his father's hand.

series oneshots/headcannons:

~∞~ tulips & starlight – valentines day drabble

~∞~ serendipity hcs (mattheo) – a glimpse at his life pre sixth year

~∞~ invisible string – bonus scene from chapter 16 **

~∞~ snippets of navigating fifth year with fred weasley

series taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag, reblogs of the individual posts have an extended taglist)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj @nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette @prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl @rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost @weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @sunasbbie @rainy-darling @faeriepigeons @lovely-blackinnon @hiireadstuff @gimalo135 @elsafromcabinsix @moonlightreader649 @blueshome @nopedefe @spencerreidsthings @navs-bhat @agent-tempest @magimtz23 @y0urm0m12 @sbrn0905 @leona-hawthorne @whatsupb18 @moni-cah @taylorann2013 @unstablereader @gisellesprettylies @nat1221

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wordsarelife · 9 months ago

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—gorgeous

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: being in love with your best friend might be a bad idea, but drowning your sorrows in alcohol might be your worst one yet

warnings: underage drinking, partying, no usage of y/n, a few suggestive remarks

notes: this is my official entry for the hogmarch challenge of @thatdammchickennugget using prompt 2: “are you speaking parsletongue or am i really that drunk?”

the night was rushing fast away in front of your eyes, easy chatter, at the start of the party, quickly turning into drunken singing and shouting along to the music that was drowning out everything else.

the dim blue light that was shining through the ravenclaw common room did it‘s best to worsen the drunken state many of your classmates were in.

mattheo was sitting on a couch, wearing his usual cool demeanour and being surrounded by his friends. they were known for getting a bit drunk, but never making an embarrassment out of themselves through loud singing or obnoxious dancing.

and normally you were known for sitting right next to them and doing the same.

even though it was dark, you could see mattheo's head turn and his eyes searching the crowd for you. you had excused yourself to get something to drink. that had been over ten minutes ago and you were really debating to just go to bed.

the night had turned out differently than you had expected and you weren't really in the mood to act like it hadn't.

"someone is looking for you" a voice behind you said and you turned around startled.

"harry" you said relieved when you recognized the boy.

it wasn't like the two of you were friends, after all you were coming from vastly different groups, but since a project in astronomy you had become acquaintances, sometimes sharing a few nice words at parties.

"why are you standing here all alone? why aren't you with your friends?"

"why aren't you?" you shot back, making harry quirk an eyebrow.

"well played" he complimented and smiled "i was trying to get away from dean and ginny making out"

"ouch" it wasn't really a well known fact that harry fancied ginny, but you had noticed it right away a few parties ago and he had been able to read you well enough to know that you had known.

"it's alright" he shrugged "i just don't want to sit next to it"

"who would?" you asked sarcastically as you eyes fell on the couple, hungrily making out on the couch, successfully pushing seamus off.

it seemed that a few people felt way too comfortable in the ravenclaw common room.

"oi, it's no fun with these two" seamus complained, sympathetically hitting harry's shoulder on the way to the table with the drinks.

"back to you" harry grinned, seemingly uncomfortable with talking about his secret crush on ginny weasley more than necessary "why are you avoiding riddle? i thought you two were the best of friends"

"i'm not avoiding him" you said defensively, taking a big gulp from the vodka in your cup to prevent yourself from saying any more.

harry took a moment to study your facial expression, before he sighed in a tone that almost made you tear up "oh"

"no" you shook your head "no 'oh', stop looking at me like that, potter"

harry laughed dryly "too late" he shrugged "so, being the best of friends is your actual problem, huh?"

you didn't answer his question, but took another sip from the cup. immediately regretting it.

harry cringed "if you continue drinking at that rate you won't be able to speak a coherent sentence in a few minutes"

"maybe i don't want to speak coherent sentences anymore"

"so we're already at the point of drowning our sorrows in alcohol?" he raised his cup and took a sip "no, you're right, it doesn't look like you're unluckily in love with riddle at all"

you sighed "okay, fine, you're obviously smarter than you look" you rolled your eyes.

"well, ouch" harry said offended, but you could see a hint of mischief in his eyes. "am i allowed to join your little club of self-pity?"

"sure" you nodded "the more the merrier i guess"

"there's no better way to spend a party than drown yourself in self-pity with the girl you're kind of on good terms with"

"yeah, totally" you grinned "but i think if we continue talking at that rate we will be able to call each other friends in an hour"

"deal" harry laughed, before he grabbed the bottle of vodka on the table behind you, filling both your own and his cup back up. he put the bottle back and held his cup in your direction "to unrequited love" he said dramatically.

you grimaced, but raised your cup to clink against his. "to unrequited love" you toasted "and unexpected friendships" you added.

"yeah that too" he smiled before you both took a big sip from your cups.

"vodka is fucking disgusting" you complained and harry nodded, making a face that would allow the assumption that he had been thinking the same thing.

"at least it does the trick"

you and harry spend the next hour recklessly sipping vodka, while you were telling each other ridiculous stories. the vodka had a quicker effect than either of you had thought, making the both of you dance and refer to each other as friends sooner than you had predicted.

just as 'dancing queen' began to play and you were twirling on the dancefloor, did you notice the empty spot on the couch occupied by your friends. there was only one of them missing. before it could really register in your brain who exactly was missing, a voice rang out next to you.

"make room, potter" you and harry both turned around, looking surprised at the arrival of mattheo riddle.

"matty" you laughed after the few seconds it had taken you to recognize your best friend.

mattheo's arm darted to the side, catching you before you could fall to the ground. you had made the attempt to hug him, missing his body by a few feet. you had been closer to hugging cormac mclaggen who was standing off to the side.

"there you are" mattheo noted, gently taking your cup out of your hand, sniffing the contents and grimacing at the strong sent of vodka, mixed with a bit of orange juice.

"do you want some?" you slurred, grinning up at the boy, who's arm was still holding you steady.

"how many of these has she had?" mattheo asked harry, thinking he would be a little less wasted than you.

"like thirty-four thousand?" harry answered before him and you broke into simultaneous laughter.

"had to have been a lot" mattheo muttered, noticing the way you were laughing with the chosen one, gripping his arm, like you were old friends.

he let go of you, taking harry's cup as well, emptying the both into the bucket under the table with the drinks. he came back right in time to witness you saying goodbye to harry with a dramatic hug, kissing both his cheeks and lastly his forehead.

"yeah, that's enough" mattheo said, dragging your body back against his when he noticed you going in to plant more kisses on harry's face. he looked bad enough, the red lipstick you were wearing leaving marks all over his face.

harry smiled before he waved at you and turned around, stumbling through the crowd of students probably in search of his redheaded best friend.

mattheo rolled his eyes. "you're absolutely wasted, darling"

you turned around to look at him and unconsciously bring a bit of space between the both of you "is it that obvious?" you asked.

mattheo watched with a smirk, how you tried to balance yourself out, to just be able to stand. your arm ended up stabilizing your own hip and you almost fell full on to the side, when you moved your leg.

"not really" mattheo grinned "come on, baby" he softly gripped your waist on either side, guiding you in the direction of your friends. you closed your eyes, leaning your head against his shoulder, letting him walk you through the room willingly.

"have i ever told you how gorgeous you are?"

"i am?" he asked laughing.

"so gorgeous that it hurts"

"you're flattering me" he smiled, nudging your arm. "but maybe you should concentrate more on walking in the right direction"

he was right. it was taking you way too long to cross the room, thanks to your inability to still walk in a straight line, even with his help.

"hey" mattheo greeted, making the eyes of his friends turn on him. "i'm bringing her to bed"

"already?" enzo asked skeptically, checking his watch "it's only two a.m."

"hey guys!" you greeted when your eyes snapped open. you bend forward, plastering a kiss onto enzo’s cheek. "how the party you doing? good? good!" you smiled, nodding as your eyes fell closed, as you leaned back onto mattheo again.

"what?" theo laughed at your slurred words that had not made the slightest bit of sense.

"yeah, i get it now" enzo nodded understandingly, trying to rub your lipstick off his cheek.

"she's only been gone for an hour" blaise said unbelievingly "how did she get that drunk?"

"she's had approximately like more than a thousand vodka-o's according to potter" mattheo chuckled.

"potter?" draco repeated disgustingly "what has she been doing with potter?"

"harry and i are best friends" you gushed, giving draco an angry look. he rolled his eyes in annoyance, but without questioning your answer.

"let's not get ahead of ourselves, love" mattheo argued, a bit of jealousy in his voice.

"you don't have to be jealous" you softly touched his cheek "you know i love you more than anyone, honey"

blaise let out a loud whistling noise "seems likes she's your girl after all, riddle"

"oh shut up" mattheo said at the same time as you said "of course"

"better bring her to bed now" theo advised and you could feel mattheo nod next to you.

"i'll be back in a few minutes" mattheo promised, as he softly turned you around to be able to walk you in the direction of the door.

"no he won't" you slurred, turning your head in the direction your friends, gripping mattheo's neck and winking at them.

enzo hollored and theo laughed, while blaise repeated the whisteling.

"cheers to that" even draco was amused about you, as he raised his cup in your direction.

"i'll be back" mattheo assured again, pushing you forward.

"no you won't" theo shook his head, smirking as he watched his friend roll his eyes and gently guide you through the crowd.

"how about a shot of tequila?" you suggested to mattheo, perfectly awake again. there was no hint of the tiredness that had consumed your body only a few minutes ago.

maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the sound of a familiar voice indicating the beginning of the song 'whatta man' by salt-n-pepa, which was now booming through the boxes.

"no, no more alcohol" mattheo shook his head, suddenly being the kind of responsible he had never seen himself to become.

"oh my god!" you gushed when you finally reconized the song "that's my favorite song! let us dance, matty!"

he was distracted by two hufflepuff boys almost running into him, when you saw the perfect opportunity to escape his hold. stupidly enough, that was the only thing you could see, as you had promptly gotten lost in the crowd of people.

mattheo was at your side only a second after, making you realize that you had in fact just turned around, without moving more than a feet away from him.

"if you don't come with me on your own accord, i'll have to carry you" mattheo warned.

you giggled, clasping your hands around his biceps "let us dance" you pleaded, completely ignoring what he had said.

mattheo furrowed his eyebrows, still waiting for you to reply to what he had said, but you were busy watching a few ravenclaws and hufflepuffs downing shots. "or we could down some shots" you mumbled.

mattheo took that as answer enough, clasping one of his hands around your forearm and the other around your leg, as he bend down to throw you over his shoulder.

"matty" you protested, as he began to walk you out of the common room. you gave up arguing and continued to sing along to the chorus of 'whatta man' as mattheo walked you both through the crowd of people.

as soon as the door to the ravenclaw common room fell close behind the two of you, you slumped down on mattheo's shoulder, the tiredness hitting you immediately.

"do you want to walk on your own now, baby?" mattheo asked, but he could feel you shake your head. "can you use you words?" he was growing a bit concerned at your sudden mood shift, trying to make sure that you were still somewhat alright.

"no" you pouted "i don't want to use my words"

"you just did"

"i never let a man tell me what to do" you slurred and mattheo had to chuckle.

"clearly" he muttered under his breath.

he walked through the halls of the castle quickly, making sure that you wouldn't be discovered by one of the teachers. you would probably kill him if one of them saw you like this. you never really got that drunk often, so it was on mattheo to make sure that no one found out about it now.

he should've searched for you immediately after you hadn't come back. he shouldn't have waited an hour. but he was scared of annoying you. you were always together and he had taken your absence as a sign for you needing some space.

if he could, he would follow you around all the time, preferably holding your hand while doing so. maybe in another universe you would want him to do that.

"when are we there?" you asked, your hand wandering across his shoulder, before it finally found it's place in his hair, gripping it tightly.

"any second now" mattheo was trying to make sure not to shake your body too much, as he quickly walked down the steps to the dungeon. he wouldn't want you to throw up. "do you feel sick, sweetheart?"

"no" you muttered "i just want to sleep"

"i know, i know" mattheo patted the back of your leg "we're almost at the door"

he hadn't lied. it only took a few more seconds, before he whispered the password and the door to the slytherin common room opened, revealing the familiar green lighting as he walked you both inside. he crossed the room, climbing the stairs to your dorm.

he took his time to set you down on your bed, making sure that no quick movement could make you feel uncomfortable. he unfolded your blanket, spreading it across your body.

he was ready to leave the room, before you called him back.

"matty" you cried and he perked up, walking back to the bed. you threw the blanket to the side dramatically, revealing your trousers and shirt. "i can't sleep like this"

"oh" mattheo said dumbfounded "do you want me to take them off?" he asked slowly, gripping the waistband of your trousers.

"are you speaking parsletongue or am i really that drunk?" you giggled at the joke with your eyes still closed.

"you're really that drunk" mattheo answered, rolling his eyes at your unseriousness "and it's not funny"

"it's a bit funny" you opened your eyes and giggled at his facial expression "why are you so serious, matty?"

"i should've kept an eye on you" he answered "you don't like to be drunk"

"i can make my own decisions" you argued, crossing your arms.

"obviously" mattheo nodded "should i take them off?" he repeated his question from earlier, but the tone of his voice made you sober up immediately, well at least a bit.

"are you really angry at me right now?" you asked surprised.

"i had to leave the party to bring you to bed"

"that's not the reason you're angry" you said, knowing him well enough to see through his lie.

"okay, fine" he sat down on the bed and you sat up, drawing your knees to your chest and hugging them with your arms. "maybe i'm a bit angry that you would rather spend your evening getting drunk with potter than speaking to me"

"matty"

"no, it's fine" he shook his head "i shouldn't be angry about how you choose to spend your time. goodnight" he stood up from the bed, walking to the door quickly, so voice rang out before he was able to twist the doorknob.

"can you please just stay?" you asked and he turned around in surprise.

"what?"

"maybe i chose to spend time with harry, but i'm choosing to spend the night with you. isn't that more important?"

"that's not how it works"

"okay, fine" you said, tired of arguing "do you want to know the truth? spending time with you is super hard while i'm madly in love with you" even though you were a bit more sober than before, he could still recognize the drunkness in your voice, especially because you were never that bold.

"madly in love with me, huh?" mattheo repeated surprised, his signature smirk immediately replacing the frown on his face.

“it’s embarrassing, i know” you buried your face in your hands, hiding your rosy cheeks from his eyes. he softly took your hands in his, freeing your face of them.

"don't hide from me" he smiled "and it’s not embarrassing, because the truth is, that i'm madly in love with you too"

you smiled up at him. “can you kiss me then?” he smiled at your question, but shook his head.

“no more kisses tonight” he muttered, softly stroking your hair “we can do that tomorrow, as often as you want to, when you’re sober again”

“okay” you nodded.

he gently helped you to exchange your trousers for pyjama bottoms, before he took of his shirt and climbed into bed next to you. you cuddled close to his chest, your hair tickling him whenever you moved.

"blaise was right" you said finally "i'm your girl after all"

"you always were" mattheo whispered back, softly kissing your forehead, before the both of you fell asleep, holding onto each other.

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pretty-little-mind33 · 1 year ago

Text

bsfd!James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: Having a thing for your best friend's dad was your dirty little secret. Up until it wasn't so secret anymore.

Genre: SMUT (nsfm)

Warnings: fictional age gap relationship (20f, 40m), drunk!reader, tipsy!James (no drunk sex though bc we love consent), fingering, oral sex (f & m receiving), penetration, swearing, corruption kink, sexual themes, nipple play, praise

next part

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

Your small trunk bumps into your knees as you stand in front of the familiar, decent sized, house in the center of Godric's Hollow. An early summer breeze messes up your hair and the humidity prickles at your skin, suddenly making you feel uncomfortable in your woolen jumper.

Inside the house, music plays and you can see silhouettes dancing around. The smell of Ginny Weasley's famous plum muffins swirl around you from outside the door and your stomach reminds you just how little you'd eaten in the train. Quickly, you lift your trunk with one hand and use your other hand to knock.

You hear muffled sounds from inside and then you see Harry Potter's rosy cheeks perk up in a wide smile as he holds the front door open, "Y/n!" He says happily. Harry's dark hair is a mess as a lopsided birthday hat that says Birthday Boy pushes some of his hair away from his face. Harry looks slightly ridiculous, but he's definitely too drunk to care, "Come in, come in." He insists.

Inside, the music is louder and the house is incredibly crowded with a bunch of drunk adults. When Harry invited you to his twenty-first birthday, you had expected something special — especially since, from Harry's stories, Mr. Potter and his friends had a tendency to throw extravagant parties among themselves — but you never imagined a full on muggle-inspired rager.

You can smell beer mixed with some wizard-alcohol Ron had once smuggled into your Gryffindor dorms in your sixth year and you sniffle. "You look nice," Harry compliments and moves your trunk into a corner.

You smile faintly, subconsciously running your palms over your jumper. You look down at your plain white, worn out, sneakers you've had since your Hogwarts years and the boring little jean skirt you'd thrown on because you haven't done laundry in a week. You feel underdressed but mumble a thank you anyway.

Harry doesn't seem to think you're underdressed because he ushers you inside his living room. You pass by countless classmates you haven't seen in a few years and almost all of them are drunk. Some holler your name and grin, while others don't look like they remember you.

When you see Ron and Hermione dancing in the center of the room, you and Harry quickly join them. As you dance, you don't exactly keep track of time as drinks seem to find their way into your hand. You just dance and drink until your mind is fuzzy and you have the sudden urge to use the bathroom.

Honestly, you didn't think you were that drunk. Or at least not until you couldn't seem to find the bathroom in a house you'd been a guest in more times than you could count.

You stumble, hand coming to balance yourself as your foot hooks into the other. You hear someone call your name, a voice you don't initially recognize, and suddenly you feel someone slide your arm around their shoulder, their other arm holding you up from around your waist.

"Hey there, watch your step." The person says softly and you look at them. You think it's Harry at first. It's the same hair and almost the same smile, but the more you focus you can tell it isn't Harry at all.

This man is older — not that you could really tell if you didn't recognize him — and your breath hitches as you quickly pull away,

"Mr Potter!" You exclaim a little loudly, "Oh, I'm sorry. I- I was looking for the loo."

You watch a smirk curl his lips as he stands a little straighter. His dark hair looks a little messy in the best way and you feel a blush creep up your cheeks. You start to question if it's the alcohol you drank, or if Mr Potter just looks extra handsome this evening.

"Well the bathroom's in the opposite direction, love." He chuckles, "And James is just fine. Mr. Potter makes me feel old."

You hide a laugh behind your palm, knowing it really wasn't that funny, and resist touching your cheeks to check if they're as warm as they suddenly feel.

You hear another happy holler and James looks back at the party. His hands run in his curls and he frowns, "Is it just me or have I let this party spiral a little out of control?" He asks you.

You sway on your feet and try to concentrate on James's question and not his lips or how blurry the hallway walls have turned around him. You faintly see James pinch his nose and mutter to himself, "Bloody idiot," as his hand gently skims your arm and you inhale, surprised by the warmth.

You look at him and lose your balance again, this time stumbling into his chest. His hand rests on your waist to steady you. Suddenly, you hear an obnoxious whistle from behind you and you and James look toward the sound.

You see a boy around your age send you a wink as you sway on your feet, and then he raises his glass at James in some kind of sleazy congratulations. You squint. There's no way this guy knows who James is, because if he did he certainly wouldn't have implied what he was clearly implying.

James doesn't respond in any way (if you don't count the tensing of his hands as it moves around your back) and instead he turns around and holds under your arm too. Gently, he helps you walk away from the chaos that is now the party, "Mr Potter, I really need to use the bathroom." You insist.

He looks at you sweetly, "I know, darling, but you can use mine."

You feel your heart jump and you don't answer. Your stomach feels as fuzzy as your head and you stare at James, admiring his features. Then, you look around. You're in a new hallway, one you've never been in. The walls are darker and the wooden floor squeaks under your sneakers.

Suddenly, you hear a door open and a light turns on. You blink and see a small room which consists of one queen bed, one desk, and one armoire. Old and new books are scattered around the room and the navy curtains are drawn shut. In the corner is a smaller door and you pray it's the bathroom.

"In there," James whispers as his hands disappear from your body.

Instantly, you rush inside and as quickly as you went in, you're out again. James, who was finding a shirt from inside his drawer, turns around. "Already?" He asks, slightly amused. You blush and nod hesitantly.

You hear him laugh and the sound sends electric shocks into your heart. What is happening to you?

James makes his way to you and hands you a shirt. Your fingers skim his as you take it in your hand and you look at him, confused.

"I want you to sleep here tonight. With me." Your chest tightens and your eyes round. James's own cheeks dust pink as he rubs his nape, "I just want to make sure you're okay, Y/n. You're drunk and someone could take advantage of you. I want to know you're safe."

James clenches his jaw as a little voice in his head screams at him, "Are you sure that someone won't be you?" He tenses. He'd never hurt you. You're too innocent, too kind, for him to ruin. James hates himself for even thinking of what you're hiding behind your jumper, or admiring how supple your thighs look under your skirt, and he hates himself even worse for imagining the taste of your lips.

"Oh," You say and your thumb runs over James's shirt, "Okay."

James stands straighter as he watches you disappear into his bathroom again to change and if he's honest, he looks longer than he should have.

Sighing, he runs a hand down his face — he needs to end this goddamn party somehow, and holy fuck how is he supposed to explain where you went to his son?

* * *

When you open your eyes, your mind is still a little fuzzy and your throat is extremely dry. You sit up, hands running over the sheets, and you squint as you try to adjust to the darkness and your new surroundings.

You can remember Harry, the party, drinking, and James. You see him. He's sleeping curled up on a chair near his bed.

Quickly, you pull the covers away from your body and stand. Your eyes widen when you realize you're only wearing your panties and one of James's white chemises. What the hell have you done? You wince. Hesitantly, you make your way to where James is and shake him,

As soon as you see him wake up, your word vomit begins, "Mr Potter, I'm so sorry if I was a nuisance yesterday evening. I barely remember what happened. I was so drunk," James sits up. He smiles and opens his mouth to answer but you continue, "I- We didn't do anything, did we, Mr Potter? Because if I said or did something last night, I honestly didn't mean it. It was only ever a silly crush," You whisper, cheeks burning as you subconsciously pull his shirt lower and over your exposed thighs.

You can see James's eyes darken as he listens to every word you say. The moonlight shines onto him, almost making his skin glisten, and you suddenly feel small. "A crush, huh?" James smirks, standing up slowly. Your eyes move from his and then to his chest. It just now hits you that he's shirtless.

You tilt your head to look at him, "Excuse me?"

"When did this crush start?" He asks and leans in. His knuckles brush your cheek and automatically you close your eyes. You wonder how he can feel so close and still so far.

"Last year." You say breathlessly

"And when did it end, love?" James mumbles. His lips are now almost pressed to your ear as his hands caress down your arms. You feel disoriented as you keep your eyes squeezed shut.

"I-It didn't," You admit, making a small breathy sound when James's lips finally connect with your cheek. You feel him smirk and then, slowly, his mouth proceeds down your neck as he gently sprinkles kisses onto your skin. You chew on your lip to suppress a moan as his hands find your hips and pulls you in until you're pressed up against him.

"Is this okay?" James whispers and you nod. "Shit, you don't know what you've done to me this past year, Y/n." He continues and your heart pounds, "Do you even know how many times I've thought of you? The fucking things I imagined?"

You feel him kiss up your jaw, "Filthy things, love. Things I shouldn't have been thinking about my son's best friend. But, Merlin, look at you. You're bloody stunning now." James's voice is low but every time you hear him, that tightness in your stomach worsens.

"Mr Potter," You whimper and run your hand over his cheek. Your eyes flutter and you look at him needily, "Kiss me."

James looks at you intensely for a moment until he smiles and graciously listens as his lips press against yours. Delicately in the beginning — almost as if you're too sacred to him and he wants to savor this moment. But then, when he feels your hands on his chest, he deepens the kiss and his tongue pushes past your lips. You shut your eyes again. hands finding his hair as you kiss him desperately.

You never imagined you'd admit this, but you'd dreamt of this moment countless times in the middle of the night. Still, even in your wildest fantasies, nothing could compare to the real thing.

James pulls away a moment, hands holding your cheeks as he admires your face. You look flustered as you breathe heavily, hair a mess and lips bruised. He smirks and looks at your thighs. You hadn't even realized you'd been rubbing them together to dull the ache, "Fuck," James mutters to himself as he kisses you again.

You whine into his lips, the pressure in your core becoming harder to ignore. You want him, you want him so badly it hurts.

Quickly, you slide your hand down over his pants and you can feel just how badly he wants you too. "Shit," James breathes, gripping your wrist and pulling your hand away. You look up at him, so innocent, and he curses himself, "Y/n, don't start something you can't finish." He warns.

"Who says I can't finish it?" You argue instantly and lean up to capture his lips again.

James chuckles but accepts your kiss anyway. He's going to hell for this, he thinks as your hands wander around his body. He shuts his eyes and sucks on your neck until you let out a small moan.

Fuck, he should want to protect you from the things he wants to do to you.

When he pulls away, his eyes have darkened even more and you can feel a confusing tonal shift. Maybe you couldn't finish this, you start to doubt as you look at him expectantly. You chew on your lip. Maybe this had been a huge mistake and maybe James thinks so too.

"If we continue, we can't go back to normal." James states and you tense.

"I know."

"Y/n, I can pretend this never happened. No strings, no awkwardness, I promise. You just have to say the words." He says, completely serious.

James is no longer touching you and you realize you miss him. You're in way over your head but somehow, you feel completely safe. You don't feel like you're making the wrong decision when you stay silent.

James's eyes sparkle but he runs a hand in his hair and looks away, "Bloody hell." He curses and you smile. He presses his hand to your cheek and then tilts your chin up, "This is insane."

"Just fuck me already," You laugh, "I know you want to."

Once the words leave your mouth, he kisses you hungrily. You lose your balance and fall onto the bed behind you, head hitting the bunched up blankets. You giggle when James hovers over you. "You're a little tease, you know that?" He chastises, his lips exploring your neck once more.

Honestly, you'd be insulted by his comment if you hadn't spent the last year trying to catch his attention whenever you had the chance.

"And you're a dirty perv for lusting after me." You respond slyly. James hesitates a moment but continues to kiss you anyway. When he leans on his arms and looks at you, you can see he looks a little embarrassed. "Don't worry, it turns me on." You smirk.

James shakes his head, "You're quite naughty, huh?" He asks and you nod. When you feel his hand travel down your stomach and lift his shirt to reveal your underwear you feel like you could almost orgasm right there. Instead, you bite your cheek and resist rubbing your thighs.

When James touches you over your panties, you let out a small gasp. As he slides his hand inside them, he leans on his side and uses his other hand to cover your mouth gently, "Don't wake everyone up with your noises, love." He looks at you and smiles as his finger runs up your pussy teasingly, "Just let me make you feel good."

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut. No one has ever made you feel this good already. Sure, you'd had boyfriends over the course of your seven years at school but you realized none of them could compare to him.

"Has anyone ever touched you like I am?" James sounds cocky as he almost reads your mind. When he speaks, his middle finger suddenly curls into you and you arch a little as your eyes widen from the unusual, foreign, feeling.

"I- no. Not as good as you, Mr Potter." You admit, squirming under his touch.

"Good." James leans into the crook of your neck and kisses your cheek. His hand moves just a little harder now – just enough to bring you close, but not make you come – and your breath has become harsher, "And didn't I ask you to call me James." He frowns playfully.

Your hand comes down to grip his wrist, "Please, James." You whine.

"Hmm?"

He wants you to beg. Your entire body feels like it's vibrating.

"Please." You whisper again and his pace quickens even more.

"You're such a good fucking girl." James compliment, kissing the skin near your ear and gently removes his fingers from inside of you. He slides your panties down your legs, leaving your pussy exposed. You barely have time to protest his lack of touch because he's climbing over you.

You shouldn't stare at his chest but you do anyway. Your lower stomach tightens.

James leans down and unbuttons his shirt, the one you have on, until he manages to pull it down your shoulders and away from you. You're completely naked now and, clearly unapologetic, James looks at your breasts and places his lips around your nipples. You gasp, hands wrapping around his — surprisingly muscular — back. You feel faint as the only thing you can focus on is James's mouth as he explores and kisses all over your breasts and collarbone.

"This is sick," James mumbles but continues to kiss you anyway.

You smile and suddenly flip around so you're sitting on his lap, "I want to ride you." You state, eyes twinkling.

James looks wind blown as his hair splays across the pillow and his hands grip your hips. He looks flustered as you feel his boner press against your thigh.

You fumble with his boxers, pulling them down and holding his dick in your hand. He hisses, eyes shutting from how sensitive he is. You smirk and swipe your thumb over his tip until he moans louder.

"Tease." He grits, hands digging into your hips, "In the drawer." He says.

You understand and reach over, opening the drawer and taking out one of James's condoms. Him and Lily have been divorced for years and jealousy stings your chest thinking who he uses them for now.

James takes the condom from your hand, carefully rips it with his teeth, and then puts it on expertly, “You do this often?” You ask, hiding how jealous you are behind a small smile.

"Sometimes," He answers nonchalantly, “But none have been as sweet as you are, love.”

You feel him press against your pussy and your eyes flutter shut. He feels much bigger than anyone you're been with in the past and you bite your lower lip, "Are you okay? We can stop whenever you want, Y/n." James promises, seeing your nervous expression.

You rest your palms on his chest and pull yourself up until you can slowly reach under and guide him into you. "I want this." You whisper.

James curses as his dick disappears into you. You let out a small squeal as he does and he covers your mouth with his hand as you adjust to him.

You nod when you can finally start to move and James settles back into the pillows. You start to bounce and every time you bury his cock back inside you, you whimper with pleasure.

James watches your breasts bounce with you and he feels hot. He's enjoying this way too much. You look beautiful, naked and jumping on his cock like a starved bunny. You're so fucking cock drunk already.

"How does it feel, sweetheart?" He asks cockily and helps guide your hips.

You can barely form words, "I-t I- I f-eel," You moan, hands clutching James's shoulders now as you continue to fuck him, "James!" You groan his name and he bucks his hips.

You feel so goddamn tight around him.

James enjoys you riding him — losing yourself in the pleasure you get from him — but as time passes, your bounces falter and you start to pant. James senses your thighs quiver and he isn't surprised when you tell him, "I'm close."

Your head suddenly hits the pillow as you're spun around and you shut your eyes. You arch your back as James presses himself into you, missionary style, and you wrap your arms around him again,

"Filthy fucking girl." He whispers near your ear as you spread your legs wider to allow him to fuck you easier and harder.

Your eyes roll back as James's hips snap into yours and your nails run down his back. He groans but continues to pound into you.

"You're doing so well," He encourages between ragged breaths, "Are you gonna come for me?"

You nod and he smirks.

"Then go ahead." James says, knowing he can't last much longer either. You explode and you feel warm all over as he continues to fuck you even after you've reached your high.

You tap his back, recovering, "I want to suck your cock. You can finish in my mouth." You whimper.

James moans just hearing the words and pulls out. He pulls off the condom and leans off the bed for a moment so he can throw it into the trash near his desk. You shift your bodies so you can put yourself between his legs and you immediately lick his tip.

You feel him twitch in your hand as you take him into your mouth. James looks at you, one of his hands gripping your hair as you choke on his dick. He's so goddamn close. All it takes is you glancing up at him with your beautiful eyes and running your tongue along his length for him to curse and come into your mouth.

You swallow and James loses his mind all over again. You look completely fucked out now as your eyes flutter and your chest heaves. His heart thumps in his chest,

His hand curls around your neck as he leans in to press a kiss against your forehead. You sit with your legs sprawled behind you, arms clenched between your knees, completely bare in front of him, and you shiver at his touch.

When he stands, you almost call out his name. You don't know what you're so afraid of, maybe you're scared he'll leave you.

"Here." He climbs back into the bed with his boxers on and he guides your arms into his shirt and starts to button it up, "You did so well. Made me feel so good, yeah?"

He takes your cheeks in his hands and you look at him. He feels slightly guilty for the distant look in your eyes, "Are you okay?"

You squirm a little, "I'm a little sore already. You-You're bigger than anyone else I've been with.” You admit.

James looks cocky and he traces circles on your thigh, "How can I make you feel better, darling?" He sees you look away bashfully and play with the buttons of his shirt, "Want me to kiss it better?" He teases.

You feel aroused again and bite your lip, nodding.

James sits on his heels and moves you so you're sitting against the headboard, your legs spread. His shirt rides up your thigh, exposing your pussy, and his dick twitches in his pants. Fuck, he's an evil evil man.

You watch him, breathing harshly, as you wait with anticipation. No one has ever eaten you out before. Your first boyfriend had expressed his disgust and you had never asked anyone again.

James takes your leg in his hands. He starts to kiss your calf muscle and then moves upwards to your inner thigh. You clutch the sheets as he kisses your skin gently.

"Relax, sweet girl." He whispers when you squirm. James is now laying in between your legs and he presses a kiss just above your pussy, his hands hooking under your thighs to push them open even wider.

You moan when he finally licks up your slit. It feels strange at first and your instinct is to move away from it. When he feels you jump, James looks up at you, "Do you want me to stop?" He asks gently.

You shake your head furiously. James smirks and presses another kiss to your inner thigh. This time, he licks and sucks on your skin a little bit before he finds your pussy again and attaches his mouth to your clit.

You gasp and your hands bury themselves in James's hair. You moan his name.

James continues to suck on your clit, occasionally gently thrusting the tip of his tongue into you and you see stars.

"How are you feeling?” James asks in between kisses to your clit. He's not asking to tease this time, but to genuinely make sure he's pleasing you.

"A-amazing — ah!" You cry when he sucks a little harder and you buck your hips into his mouth.

James makes a little sound when you instinctively close your thighs around his head. He uses one of his hands to pull one of your thighs open, and the other follows, "Gotta Keep 'em open, my love." He says and you nod, your eyes squeezing shut.

You feel like you're floating as James continues. It doesn't take long until you come for the second time, collapsing onto the bed with harsh breaths.

James kisses your thigh one last time and gently closes them. He licks his lips and scoops you into his arms as holds you to his bare chest, "You did so well. My good girl."He kisses your cheek and you smile.

"What do you need, love?" He asks once you wiggle from his arms and adjust your hair. You must look completely disheveled.

"Um? Water?" You whisper, unsure.

James is up on his feet instantly as he fetches you some water from the sink in his bathroom. When he returns you're sitting up on his bed and the morning light from the window shines onto your face. James hands you the glass.

"Thank you." You say softly and take a sip.

"How was it?" James finds himself asking and he curses himself in his head. James hasn't really asked anyone how sex was since Lily, but for some reason he burns for your approval. He sounds like a hopeless teenager.

"I loved every second." You reply honestly. "You're the first person who's ever given me head too."

"Really?" He sits next to you and places your glass on his bedside table when you hand it to him.

"Yeah. My ex found it gross."

"Well, he’s a bloody idiot." James says, completely serious, and you laugh. You look at him and James wishes he could hear your laughter all the time.

"James?"

He almost blushes at his name, "Hmm?"

"What does this mean?" You ask, pointing between you and him.

James wants to tell you he likes you. He wants to ask you out to dinner, somewhere fancy where he can spoil you exactly like you deserve, but he doesn't want to sound creepy.

Plus, there is Harry to think of. His son, who will be worried sick if you come out of his father's room looking like you do now.

"I don't know." James admits quietly.

You see his expression and your heart clenches. You want him, you want nothing more than for him to be yours. But you know he can't, not when Harry is your best friend. You don't want to hurt your best friend.

Still, you don't want to shut the door completely, "Can we find out as we go?" You ask timidly, implying that — at least — you want to have him intimately again.

James grins. He has never ever been happier to hear those words.

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allthesmutl0vers · 1 month ago

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Dating Fred and George Weasley Headcanons

MDNI, 18+, NSFW

Masterlist Requests/Asks: OPEN (please read) Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader x George Weasley Request: Not a request just wanted to write to fight writer's block. TW: Sexual Situations, Kinks, Some Fluff, Pseudo-Twincest A/N: I feel like I ate with this, tbh. Been working on it for two mf days. 😮‍💨💞 I hope you enjoy! Comment here if you want to be added to the tag list for any/all HP content.

Please feel free to let me know how you feel about this. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated. ✨💞

How you got together:

You had been friends with them forever, but you never expected them to have the same feelings towards you as you did for them. None of you were willing to admit it until it was called out by Ginny and her loud ass mouth when she told you guys to 'just fucking kiss already, for Merlin's sake.'

They had just finished a match against Slytherin and won, of course, so their adrenaline was already flooding. You had opened your mouth to fire back at Ginny with some sarcastic ass comment when Fred grabbed your face and smashed his lips to yours, stealing the breath right out of your lungs.

When Fred finally pulled back, your head was in a daze, and before you could suck in a breath, George grabbed you by your waist, dipped you, and kissed you with the same passionate intensity.

After that, everything else was history, and the only thought any of you could form was, 'Why didn't we do this sooner?'

Fred

Song that best describes your relationship with Fred:

Good Girls Go Bad - Cobra Starship (Iykyk)

Nicknames he has for you:

Darling: His go-to nickname, he uses it all of the time.

Love: Uses this one when he is being extra lovey, or giving you presents.

Sweetheart: (this one is for when you're in trouble and he wants you to know it)

Kinks:

Biting: Fred loves to bite you while he's fucking you. Leaving trails of bite marks all over your neck and going down your collarbones and, especially, between your thighs when he's eating you out. Though he never breaks the skin, he does bite hard enough to bruise. Fred's biggest turn-on is the sounds that leave your lips when he bites down hard and then licks and kisses the same spot, melting pain with pleasure until you can't tell the difference.

Bit of an exhibitionist: Nothing revs Fred up more than the risk of getting caught, especially if it's George walking in when he has you bent over, face down, ass up. He knows you're with George, too, but it's not necessarily about who catches you two in the act. It's about simply being caught.

"Looks like we've been caught, darling," he taunts with a dark chuckle and pulls your head back by your hair to make you look at George while he pile drives into you from behind. "Show Georgie how good I make you feel. Come on, let him hear how I make you scream."

Begging: Hearing you beg, 'Just fuck me already,' almost makes him break and do it. His response? Shoving his cock down your throat, all the while taunting you with little phrases like, 'What was that, darling? Didn't quite catch that,' or 'But you look so good, down on your knees begging for me.' He will definitely give you what you want, but only after tears are running down your cheeks as your need becomes almost too much to bear. Almost. He's not a complete sadist, after all.

Honorable Mentions:

Hair Pulling I mean, need I say more?

Teasing at the MOST inappropriate times, family dinner? Ha, his fingers are right at the apex of your thighs, silently challenging you to keep your facial expressions schooled.

Breeding Kink: You think he doesn't fantasize about filling you up so fucking full with cum, that it's only thanks to your birth control you haven't gotten pregnant yet? That's fucking adorable.

Favorite Positions:

Face down, ass up: What's not to love? It's the perfect position for Fred to slam into you at the brutal pace that leaves you cock-drunk. Perfect for him to either hold your hips still or slam you back onto his cock to match his pace, all the while leaving perfect little fingertip bruises on your hips. Even better is when he pulls you back, flush to his chest, a large hand holding just under your chin, supporting your weight while he leaves a trail of bite marks down your neck and shoulders while you whimper and plead for mercy, not that you actually want it, he just loves to hear you beg.

Against a wall: Being the exhibitionist he is, Fred will fuck you any and everywhere. An empty classroom, a broom closet, the locker room after an intense quidditch match, win or lose, he doesn't care. So long as he gets you. But there is just something about holding you up with your legs wrapped around him, back pinned to the wall (or a locker), that makes Fred fucking feral. The way he can watch your pupils blow with arousal, your lips part and quiver as your orgasm crashes into you like a fucking freight train, the way you tug on his hair as if you're trying to keep some semblance of grounding as you feel your soul leave your body. Fuck, he's sure he's never seen a more beautiful sight in his entire life.

Spit roasting: When you're on all fours on the bed (or anywhere, really), and he pounds into you while you suck off George. Fucking you so hard it forces you to take more of George down your throat. What are brothers for? He's not sexually attracted to George, but there's nothing like watching you take his other half while he slams into you. Both of them work in a delicious and synchronized rhythm, filling you up so full that you might just burst, will burst. Body trembling while George offers you sweet praise and Fred reaches around your body, rubbing tight and fast circles over your clit; all the while, they drag you further and further down to hell or up to heaven. Is there even a difference anymore?

Random Head Canons:

Fred is more possessive, not so much that you're not allowed to have friends of the opposite sex. He knows full well he can trust you to tell him if someone makes you uncomfortable. He knows damn well you're not going to be fucking around with anyone else, given how fucking incredible he and George make you feel. Possessive in the aspect that he will brutally, if not mercilessly, prank anyone who so much as looks at you in any way that isn't platonic.

When you chastise him for these methods, he stops because you are bloody terrifying when you're truly angry. He switches to pulling you onto his lap or brushing your hair over your shoulder in front of them to reveal the litter of bite marks he made or the hickies that George made all over your neck, all with the cockiest fucking smirk on his face.

Fred's Ideal Date: While he loves being buried deep inside of you, he loves treating you to an adventure. His favorite? Walking into the forbidden forest, finding the perfect place to swim (he found the best swimming hole with a ledge to jump off of.) In the warmer months, he'll pack a lunch and take you here, loving the adrenaline rush of jumping and diving off of the small cliff ledge. Swimming behind the waterfall and exploring the caves inside with you. In the colder months, he will challenge you to a snowball fight in the courtyard, George is allowed, too, of course, but one of them will always be on your side against the other. Otherwise it's not really fair, is it?

George

Song that best describes your relationship with George:

Ride - SoMo

Nicknames he has for you:

Baby/Baby girl: Uses this as a placement for your name.

Little One: Uses this when he's teasing you; typically whispers it in your ear when his hands are around your waist. Or when he is watching Fred fuck you before he steps in and joins.

Mine/Ours: Uses this one the most in the bedroom when either he or both of them are fucking you.

Kinks:

Hickies: While Fred loves biting, George is a little more gentle. Note that I said a little. He'll fuck you like a whore in church, but he prefers to drag out the pleasure by sucking the soft skin right behind your ear all the way down your body down to your clit, right to his favorite part on your body, which brings me to my next point-

Eating you out: Holy. Fucking. Shit. If this was an Olympic sport, George would take the gold every single fucking time. Sure, Fred knows how to send you over the edge, but George takes his time. Licking and sucking your clit with slow, purposeful movements, drawing out sounds from your throat that sound inhuman. The way his fingers curl just fucking right inside of you, thrusting against that spongy spot inside of you, scissoring them to spread your walls and thrust his tongue in and out. Seriously, this man would live between your thighs if he could. Sending you over the edge again and again with just his devilish fucking tongue and fingers, he gets off on that shit, literally. This man has cum simply from eating you out before.

Edging: Remember how I said George is 'a little more gentle'? This is what I meant by that. George's favorite hobby when he's buried deep inside of you is bringing you right up to the edge, then pulling out, leaving you feeling empty as your walls clamp around nothing. You whine, and you whimper, and suddenly, he thrusts into you with a snap of his hips. Only to do it all over again.

"You want me to fill you up, baby? Is that what you want?" He teases as he only pushes his tip inside. You try to rock against him, to take him in deeper to satisfy the craving inside of you. "Hmm, I'm not sure you deserve it," he taunts as his thumb lands on your clit. Just as you open your mouth to beg, his hand grips your throat, and he slams into you so hard you see stars, his cock buried so deep that you swear you can feel him in your guts as he finally lets you cum with an Earth-shattering cry around him.

Honorable Mentions:

Choking: Because you know what would make you even more beautiful? A hand necklace. His, to be specific.

Bit of a voyeur: He loves watching you get pounded hard and fast when he typically fucks you hard and slow. The way your face contorts slightly differently when Fred is fucking you amuses him like no other.

Breeding Kink to the fucking MAX: He wants your pussy flooded with cum, if some spills out? No big deal, he'll fuck it right back into you. And after you finish school? Yeah, that shit is going into the fucking trash. (But you have no arguments, tbh.)

Favorite Positions:

Riding him: Guiding your hips, thrusting up into you as your hands rest on his chest to hold yourself up. Sure, George is dominant. But that doesn't love to see the look on your face above him as you come apart, over and over again, until you're a sweaty, shaky mess. George doesn't mind reverse- cowgirl, but he'd much rather see your face as his hand wraps around your throat just hard enough to make you dizzy as he tosses you over the edge, following right behind you.

Missionary (hear me out): Who says missionary is boring? Not you. Sure, nothing beats a bed, but George prefers you laid out across his desk. Or with your legs thrown over his shoulders, ass hanging over the bed as he stands and pounds into you. His thrusts are slow and firm, sliding into the hilt and then grinding against your core, making damned sure to draw out every last moan your body can produce.

Between him and Fred: George is not biased when it comes to fucking you in your ass or your pussy, if he's honest. So long as you're on your knees on the bed, while he's in either hole while Fred is in the other, both slamming into you with an animalistic ferocity. Filling you up so full with their cum that it'll be dripping out of you for days.

Random Head Canons:

George LOVES it when people stare/flirt with you. It drives Fred up the fucking wall when George doesn't try to brutally prank or show off just how much you're theirs. But it gets George off when guys try to flirt with you only to have a drink thrown at them, or you simply laugh at them before pointing out him and Fred. While Fred's anger is palpable, George just winks at you with a shit-eating grin on his face. Maybe it's the voyeur in him, but he loves watching you interact with people, male or female, because he knows you're not going anywhere except right back to him and Fred.

George's Ideal Date: George loves to fly with you on his broom, you in front of him as he grips the broom between your thighs. His favorite time to do it is at night, flying up so high you swear you can almost touch the stars as you soar over the clouds. You know this is what you two are doing when he bundles you up in one or maybe two of his sweaters. Because Merlin forbid you get cold. If it's too cold to fly or it's snowing, he loves to take a walk to Hogsmeade and share a butterbeer. So long as he's spending time with you, he couldn't be happier.

I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I loved writing it. Please don't forget to reblog and comment! ✨✨🤞🏻😇

#weasley twins #weasley twins smut #george weasley smut #fred weasley smut #weasley twins x reader

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thewidowsghost · 4 months ago

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A Love Tested By War (Ginny Weasley x Fem!Potter!Reader)

Main Masterlist

So this is the massive Ginny fic I've been working on! It's about 10K words, so I hope yall are good with the ride!

The sounds of the battle are a deafening symphony of chaos. Spells fly through the air like deadly fireworks, painting the night with streaks of vibrant, lethal light. Ginny Weasley stands at the heart of it all, her fiery hair a beacon in the gloom. She’s a fierce dueler, her wand an extension of her will as she duels with a masked Death Eater, her every movement precise and deadly.

But in the back of her mind, she can’t stop worrying about (Y/n) Potter, her girlfriend. Where is she? Is she safe? The thoughts gnaw at her as she deflects a curse, sending it hurtling back toward her opponent with a flick of her wrist.

(Y/n) is somewhere in the castle, fighting her own battles. Ginny knows she’s capable, that she’s strong and brave, but the fear still lingers. In moments like these, when the world is falling apart, it’s hard not to worry about the ones you love.

(Y/n) ducks behind a crumbling pillar, her chest heaving as she catches her breath. Her wand is clutched tightly in her hand, her knuckles white with the strain. She peeks around the edge, her heart skipping a beat as she spots a group of Death Eaters advancing. She’s alone, and they’re too many. She knows she has to be smart, and has to find a way to outmaneuver them.

She takes a deep breath, gathering her courage, and steps out from her hiding place. Her wand is steady as she casts a shield charm, blocking the first volley of curses. She counters with a stunning spell, hitting one of the Death Eaters square in the chest. He collapses, but more take his place, and (Y/n) knows she’s in trouble.

Meanwhile, Ginny’s battle is relentless. She fights with a ferocity born of desperation, each spell a plea for (Y/n)’s safety. She’s separated from her family, from Harry, from Hermione and Luna, but her mind keeps circling back to (Y/n). She needs to find her, needs to make sure she’s alright. But the battle is unyielding, and she can’t afford to let her guard down.

(Y/n) is driven back, her shield flickering under the assault. She stumbles, her foot catching on a piece of debris, and she goes down hard. Pain explodes in her side, and she gasps, struggling to rise. A curse flies over her head, narrowly missing her, and she knows she’s running out of time.

With a surge of determination, she forces herself to her feet. Her vision swims, but she pushes forward, her wand a lifeline. She can’t give up. Not now. Not when so much is at stake.

Ginny’s battle takes a turn as her opponent falters. She seizes the moment, disarming the Death Eater with a swift, decisive movement. She doesn’t waste time celebrating, though. She turns, scanning the battlefield, her heart pounding with dread. Where is (Y/n)?

She spots her then, across the courtyard, surrounded by Death Eaters. Panic grips her as she sees (Y/n) fall. “No!” she screams, the word torn from her throat. She starts to run, her legs pumping, but it feels like she’s moving through molasses. Every step is a battle against the crushing fear that she’s too late.

(Y/n) fights on, but she’s weakening. A curse hits her shoulder, and she cries out, the pain blinding. She drops to her knees, her wand slipping from her grasp. The Death Eaters close in, their laughter a cruel chorus. She looks up, her vision blurring, and sees Ginny running toward her.

Ginny reaches (Y/n) just as a Death Eater raises his wand for the final blow. With a cry of fury, she hurls herself at him, her wand flashing. He goes down, and Ginny spins, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She drops to her knees beside (Y/n), her hands shaking as she reaches out.

“(Y/n),” she whispers, her voice breaking. “Hold on. Please, hold on.”

(Y/n) tries to smile, but it’s a grimace of pain. “Ginny . . . I-I-I’m s-s-sorry” . . .

“No!” Ginny’s voice is fierce, desperate. “Don’t you dare apologize. We’re getting out of this. Together.”

(Y/n)’s eyes flutter, and Ginny’s heart clenches. She looks around, frantic, but the battle rages on. There’s no help coming. She has to do this on her own.

With trembling hands, she tries to stop the bleeding, her mind racing. She needs to get (Y/n) to safety, needs to find help. But (Y/n) is slipping away, and Ginny is terrified.

“Stay with me,” she begs, her voice choked with tears. “Please, (Y/n). I can’t lose you.”

(Y/n)’s hand reaches up, her fingers brushing against Ginny’s cheek, leaving streaks of blood where her fingers had been. “I love you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Ginny’s tears fall freely now, mingling with the blood and dirt. “I love you too,” she says, her voice breaking. “More than anything. Just hold on, okay? We’re going to get through this.”

But even as she speaks, she can see the light fading from (Y/n)’s eyes. The reality of it hits her like a physical blow, and she can’t breathe, can’t think.

“No,” she whispers, her voice hoarse. “No, no, no . . .”

The world around them is chaos, but in this moment, all Ginny can see is (Y/n), lying broken in her arms. The pain is unbearable, a raw, gaping wound in her heart. I can’t lose (Y/n). Not now. Not ever.

And yet, as she watches, (Y/n)’s eyes close, her body going limp. Ginny’s scream of grief and rage echoes through the night, a haunting sound that cuts through the noise of battle.

Ginny’s scream is a raw, heart-wrenching sound, piercing the night and cutting through the chaos. Her entire being is consumed by the sight of (Y/n), lying still and lifeless in her arms. For a moment, the battle fades away, and all that exists is this profound, unimaginable grief.

But the world doesn’t stop for Ginny’s sorrow. A curse whizzes past her ear, jolting her back to the brutal reality of the fight. She looks up, her vision blurred by tears, and sees another Death Eater approaching. Rage ignites within her, a fierce, burning need for vengeance. She gently lays (Y/n) down, her hand lingering on her beloved’s cheek for a fleeting moment, before standing to face her enemy.

“Expelliarmus!” she shouts, her voice trembling with fury. The Death Eater’s wand flies from his hand, and before he can react, Ginny sends a stunning spell his way, dropping him to the ground. She turns, searching for more threats, her heart pounding in her chest.

Her mind races. She needs to get (Y/n) to safety, needs to find help. But the battle is relentless, and she knows she can’t do it alone. She scans the courtyard, looking for any familiar faces, any allies who might be able to assist her.

“Ginny!” a voice calls out, and she spins around to see Luna Lovegood running towards her, her blonde hair flying behind her. Luna’s eyes widen as she takes in the scene, her face paling.

“Luna,” Ginny gasps, her voice cracking. “(Y/n) . . . she’s hurt. I don’t know if she’s . . .”

Luna kneels beside (Y/n), her expression uncharacteristically serious as she examines her fallen friend. “We need to get her to the Great Hall,” she says calmly, though there’s a note of urgency in her voice. “Madam Pomfrey will know what to do.”

Ginny nods, her hands trembling. Together, they lift (Y/n) carefully, Luna using her wand to lighten the load. They move as quickly as they can, weaving through the chaos of the battle, hearts heavy with fear and desperation.

As they near the Great Hall, Ginny’s mind is a whirlwind of thoughts. She can’t lose (Y/n). She can’t. The very idea is unbearable. But she forces herself to stay focused, to keep moving. They have to reach Madam Pomfrey. They have to.

The Great Hall is a flurry of activity. Injured students and teachers lie on makeshift beds, and the air is thick with the smell of potions and the sound of urgent voices. Madam Pomfrey moves among them, her face stern and determined, her wand flicking expertly as she tends to the wounded.

“Madam Pomfrey!” Ginny cries, her voice shaking. “Please, help us!”

The matron hurries over, her eyes widening as she takes in the sight of (Y/n). “Lay her here,” she instructs, indicating an empty bed. She immediately begins her work, her wand moving in complex patterns, her lips murmuring incantations.

Ginny stands back, her hands clasped tightly together, her eyes never leaving (Y/n)’s face. Luna places a comforting hand on her shoulder, her own face etched with worry.

“She’s strong, Ginny,” Luna says softly. “She’ll fight. Just like you.”

Ginny nods, swallowing hard. “I hope you’re right,” she whispers. “I can’t lose her, Luna. I just can’t.”

Madam Pomfrey works tirelessly, her brow furrowed in concentration. Ginny watches every movement, her heart aching with every second that passes. Time seems to stretch, each moment an eternity of fear and uncertainty.

Finally, Madam Pomfrey steps back, her face grave. “She’s stabilized, but she’s very weak,” she says quietly. “We need to keep her here, under close watch. She’s not out of danger yet.”

Ginny feels a rush of relief mixed with lingering dread. “Thank you,” she says, her voice choked with emotion. She moves to (Y/n)’s side, taking her hand gently. “I’m here, (Y/n),” she whispers. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Luna stays by her side, offering silent support. The sounds of battle outside the Great Hall continue, a constant reminder of the danger still lurking. But for now, Ginny’s focus is entirely on (Y/n), willing her to hold on, to fight.

Hours pass, and the battle outside rages on. Ginny stays by (Y/n)’s side, her eyes never leaving her face. She whispers words of encouragement, of love, hoping that somehow, (Y/n) can hear her. Luna occasionally leaves to check on the situation outside, always returning with updates that do little to ease Ginny’s worry.

As dawn begins to break, the sounds of fighting start to dwindle. The Great Hall is filled with a tense, exhausted silence, broken only by the occasional groan of the injured. Ginny’s eyes are heavy with fatigue, but she refuses to rest, her grip on (Y/n)’s hand unwavering.

Madam Pomfrey approaches, her face tired but kind. “You should rest, dear,” she says gently. “You need your strength.”

“I can’t,” Ginny replies, shaking her head. “Not until I know she’s okay.”

Madam Pomfrey nods, understanding. “Very well. But take care of yourself too, Ginny. (Y/n) will need you when she wakes.”

Ginny nods, though she has no intention of leaving (Y/n)’s side. She can’t. Not now. Not when the fear still lingers, a dark shadow over her heart.

As the first rays of sunlight filter through the windows, Ginny leans closer to (Y/n), her voice a soft whisper. “I love you,” she says, her words filled with a fierce, desperate hope. “Please, come back to me.”

And then, just as the sun breaks over the horizon, (Y/n)’s eyes flutter open. It’s a small movement, barely noticeable, but to Ginny, it’s everything. Her heart leaps, tears springing to her eyes.

“(Y/n)!” she cries, her voice trembling. “You’re awake! You’re really awake!”

(Y/n) blinks, her eyes slowly focusing on Ginny. “Ginny…” she whispers, her voice weak but unmistakable. “I… I’m here.”

Ginny’s tears fall freely now, her relief a palpable, overwhelming thing. “You’re going to be okay,” she says, her voice breaking with emotion. “We’re going to be okay.”

In that moment, surrounded by the aftermath of the battle and the remnants of fear, Ginny feels a glimmer of hope. They’ve faced the darkness together, and they’ve come through it. And as she looks into (Y/n)’s eyes, she knows that no matter what comes next, they’ll face it together.

. . .

(Y/n)’s return to consciousness is a fragile, delicate thing, and Ginny stays close, her hand a constant presence in hers. Madam Pomfrey hovers nearby, administering potions and casting diagnostic spells, her expression one of focused concern. The Great Hall, though quieter now, still hums with the presence of the injured and the occasional murmur of healers at work.

“You need to rest, (Y/n),” Madam Pomfrey says gently, her eyes softening as she looks at her patient. “You’ve been through a lot. Your body needs time to heal.”

(Y/n) nods weakly, her eyelids fluttering as she fights to stay awake. “Ginny,” she whispers, her voice hoarse and barely audible. “Stay with me?”

“Always,” Ginny replies, her voice firm despite the tremor of emotion beneath it. “I’m not going anywhere.”

As the hours pass, the wounded continue to fill the Great Hall, each new arrival a reminder of the battle that raged just outside these walls. Ginny can see the toll it’s taking on everyone, from the healers working tirelessly to the friends and family members anxiously awaiting news of their loved ones. Despite the fatigue weighing her down, Ginny remains vigilant, her focus solely on (Y/n).

Harry, Ron, and Hermione eventually make their way to the Great Hall, their faces haggard and streaked with dirt and sweat. Relief washes over Ginny at the sight of them, and they share a brief, silent moment of solidarity amidst the chaos.

“How is she?” Hermione asks, her voice soft and full of concern as her gaze falls on her injured friend.

“Madam Pomfrey says she’s stabilized,” Ginny replies, her grip on (Y/n)’s hand tightening. “But she needs time to recover. She was hurt badly.”

Ron places a reassuring hand on Ginny’s shoulder. “She’s tough,” he says, his voice filled with quiet confidence. “She’ll pull through.”

Harry nods in agreement, his eyes serious, his eyes on his sister – the last of his living family. “We’re here for you, Ginny. Whatever you need.”

Ginny offers them a grateful smile, though her heart remains heavy. She knows they’ve all been through so much, that the road to recovery will be long and difficult for everyone. But in this moment, surrounded by the people she cares about most, she feels a glimmer of hope.

As the days pass, the immediate danger fades, and the survivors begin the slow, painful process of healing. The castle, though battered and scarred, stands as a testament to their resilience and strength. Ginny remains by (Y/n)’s side, her presence a constant source of comfort and reassurance.

. . .

(Y/n)’s recovery is slow but steady. Each day brings small signs of improvement: a stronger grip on Ginny’s hand, a longer period of wakefulness, a hint of color returning to her cheeks. Ginny treasures each of these moments, holding on to them like precious jewels.

One afternoon, as sunlight filters through the high windows of the Great Hall, (Y/n) manages to sit up with Ginny’s help. Her movements are tentative and shaky, but the determination in her eyes is unmistakable.

“You’re doing great,” Ginny says, her voice filled with pride and encouragement. “Just take it slow. There’s no rush.”

(Y/n) nods, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “I feel . . . so weak,” she admits, her frustration evident. “Like I can barely move.”

“That’s normal,” Ginny reassures her. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s going to take time to get your strength back. But you’re getting stronger every day. I can see it.”

(Y/n) manages a small smile, her eyes softening as she looks at Ginny. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she says quietly. “You’re the reason I’m still here.”

Ginny’s eyes fill with tears, and she leans in to press a gentle kiss to (Y/n)’s forehead. “We’re in this together,” she murmurs. “Always.”

. . .

The days following the Battle of Hogwarts are filled with a mixture of relief, grief, and the slow process of healing. While the immediate danger has passed, the emotional wounds remain raw. For Ginny, the loss of her brother Fred is a deep, aching pain that shadows even the moments of hope and recovery with (Y/n).

Ginny stands in the Great Hall, her eyes scanning the faces of the wounded and the healers moving among them. The castle feels different now, both a place of victory and a monument to those who have fallen. Her thoughts drift back to Fred, his laughter, his mischievous grin, and the way he could light up a room with his presence. The memory is bittersweet, a reminder of all they’ve lost.

She feels a hand slip into hers and looks up to see (Y/n) standing beside her, looking stronger each day but still bearing the signs of her ordeal. “You okay?” (Y/n) asks softly, her eyes filled with concern.

Ginny squeezes her hand, drawing comfort from her touch. “I will be,” she says, her voice steady despite the sadness that lingers. “It’s just… Fred. I can’t believe he’s really gone.”

(Y/n) nods, her grip tightening. “I know. I’m so sorry, Ginny. He was incredible.”

Ginny’s eyes fill with tears, but she smiles through them, thinking of her brother’s infectious spirit. “He was,” she agrees, her voice trembling. “He really was.”

The next few days are a blur of preparations for Fred’s funeral. The Weasley family comes together, their grief a shared burden that somehow makes it easier to bear. They gather at the Burrow, the familiar, comforting home now filled with a sense of profound loss. Ginny finds solace in the presence of her family, each of them offering support in their own way.

. . .

On the day of the funeral, the sky is overcast, a fitting backdrop for their sorrow. The Weasleys, along with their friends and extended family, stand together in a field near the Burrow, the air heavy with the weight of their grief. Ginny stands beside (Y/n), her hand firmly clasped in hers, drawing strength from her presence.

The ceremony is simple but heartfelt, a tribute to Fred’s life and the joy he brought to everyone around him. George, standing next to the casket, speaks of his twin with a mixture of humor and heartbreak, his voice cracking as he shares memories that bring both laughter and tears.

“He’d hate this, you know,” George says, managing a small smile despite the pain in his eyes. “All of us standing around, being sad. He’d want us to throw a party, to celebrate his life the way he lived it – with laughter and love.”

Ginny listens, her heart aching with every word. She thinks of the countless pranks Fred and George pulled, the way they could always make her laugh no matter how bad things seemed. She feels (Y/n) squeeze her hand, a silent reminder that she’s not alone in her grief.

After the ceremony, the Weasleys and their friends gather at the Burrow for a meal. It’s a subdued affair, but there are moments of lightness, of shared stories and memories that bring smiles amidst the tears. Ginny sits with (Y/n), their shoulders touching, finding comfort in their closeness.

As the evening wears on, Ginny steps outside, needing a moment to herself. She walks to the edge of the garden, looking out over the fields that stretch beyond the Burrow. The sky is beginning to clear, the stars slowly emerging in the twilight.

She feels (Y/n)’s presence before she hears her footsteps. “Hey,” (Y/n) says softly, coming to stand beside her.

“Hey,” Ginny replies, her voice quiet. She takes a deep breath, the cool night air filling her lungs. “I just needed a moment. It’s so hard, saying goodbye.”

(Y/n) nods, slipping an arm around Ginny’s waist. “I know. It’s never easy. But he’ll always be with you, in your heart. In all of our hearts.”

Ginny leans into (Y/n), finding solace in her warmth. “Thank you,” she whispers. “For being here. For everything.”

(Y/n) kisses her temple, her touch gentle and reassuring. “Always,” she murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

They stand together in the quiet of the evening, the stars above a silent witness to their shared grief and enduring love. In the face of such profound loss, Ginny finds strength in the knowledge that she’s not alone, that (Y/n) is by her side, and they could deal with whatever comes next in their journey.

. . .

Five years have passed since the Battle of Hogwarts, and life has found a new rhythm for Ginny and (Y/n). The scars of the war have faded, but the memories remain, woven into the fabric of their lives. They have moved into a cozy cottage on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole, a place that feels like a sanctuary after all the chaos and loss.

Their home is filled with warmth and love, a testament to the life they’ve built together. The walls are adorned with photos of family and friends, moments of joy captured in time. The garden is a riot of color, a shared project that has become a source of pride and relaxation.

One crisp autumn morning, (Y/n) wakes with a feeling of nausea. At first, she thinks it’s just the remnants of a bad dream, but as the days go by and the nausea persists, she begins to suspect something more. Ginny notices her discomfort and gently encourages her to see a healer.

After a thorough examination at St. Mungo’s, the healer smiles warmly. “Congratulations, (Y/n),” she says. “You’re pregnant.”

(Y/n)’s heart skips a beat, a mixture of joy and fear flooding her senses. “Pregnant?” she repeats, her voice barely a whisper.

“Yes,” the healer confirms. “You’re about eight weeks along. You and Ginny are going to have a baby.”

(Y/n) leaves St. Mungo’s in a daze, her mind racing with the news. She finds Ginny in the courtyard of their home, practicing her Quidditch moves. Ginny sees her approaching and immediately senses something is different.

“(Y/n)? What’s wrong?” Ginny asks, concern lacing her voice as she lands gracefully and rushes over.

(Y/n) takes a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. “Ginny, I . . . I have something to tell you,” she begins, her voice trembling. “I just saw the healer. I’m . . I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, Ginny simply stares at her, the words sinking in. Then, her face lights up with a mixture of shock and joy. “You’re pregnant?” she echoes, her voice filled with wonder. “How –?”

(Y/n) nods, tears welling up in her eyes. “Yes, we’re going to have a baby.”

Ginny’s laughter is pure and joyous as she pulls (Y/n) into a tight embrace, spinning her around. “We’re going to have a baby!” she exclaims, her excitement contagious.

. . .

The following months are a whirlwind of anticipation and preparation. Ginny and (Y/n) transform the spare bedroom into a nursery, painting the walls a soft, calming shade and filling it with baby supplies. They attend all the prenatal appointments together, Ginny always holding (Y/n)’s hand and offering words of encouragement.

In the mornings, Ginny insists on preparing breakfast, making sure (Y/n) gets all the nutrients she needs. They enjoy leisurely walks through their village, the fresh air and exercise doing wonders for (Y/n)’s well-being. Ginny’s protective nature is endearing, and (Y/n) appreciates her attentiveness.

As (Y/n)’s belly begins to show, they receive an outpouring of love and support from friends and family. Molly Weasley is over the moon at the prospect of another grandchild, and she showers them with advice, stories, and homemade baby clothes. The entire Weasley clan rallies around them, offering help with everything from nursery setup to baby name suggestions.

One afternoon, as they’re sorting through baby clothes in the nursery, (Y/n) feels a flutter in her abdomen. She gasps, placing a hand over her belly.

“Ginny!” she calls out, her voice filled with wonder. “Come here, quick!”

Ginny rushes in, her eyes wide with concern. “What is it? Are you okay?”

(Y/n) smiles, her eyes sparkling with tears of joy. “I felt the baby move.”

Ginny’s face lights up, and she places her hand gently on (Y/n)’s belly. They wait in silence, and then they feel it – a tiny, fluttering movement. Ginny’s eyes well up with tears, and she kisses (Y/n)’s forehead.

“Our little Fred,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “He’s really in there.”

. . .

As the months progress, (Y/n)’s pregnancy becomes more pronounced. Her belly grows rounder, and Ginny takes delight in feeling the baby kick and move. They take to reading to the baby every night, Ginny’s voice soothing as she tells stories of Hogwarts, their adventures, and the loved ones they’ve lost.

Ginny becomes a master at cooking nutritious meals that (Y/n) enjoys, experimenting with recipes to keep her appetite piqued despite the nausea that sometimes persists. (Y/n) finds herself craving odd combinations, and Ginny indulges every whim, even if it means a midnight run to the nearest magical grocer.

In their quiet moments, they talk about their hopes and dreams for their son. They discuss parenting styles, argue playfully over baby names, and make lists of all the things they want to teach him. Ginny is determined to teach him how to fly a broomstick as soon as he’s old enough, while (Y/n) dreams of reading to him under the stars.

. . .

One evening, they visit the Burrow for dinner. The entire Weasley family is gathered, the atmosphere warm and lively. Molly serves a feast, and everyone takes turns feeling the baby kick. Fred’s memory is a constant presence, their photos prominently displayed and their stories shared with laughter and tears.

As the evening winds down, Ginny and (Y/n) sit by the fire with Arthur. He shares stories of Ginny’s childhood, and they laugh together, imagining what their own son’s antics might be. Arthur places a gentle hand on (Y/n)’s belly, his eyes twinkling with joy.

“You two are going to be wonderful mothers,” he says softly. “This little one is lucky to have you.”

. . .

The second trimester brings more changes, but also a sense of calm and stability. (Y/n)’s nausea subsides, and she begins to feel more energetic. Ginny takes her to Quidditch matches, where they cheer for the Harpies and talk about taking their son to games in the future.

(Y/n) finds herself drawn to the garden, where she plants flowers and herbs, feeling a deep connection to the earth and the life growing inside her. Ginny often joins her, and together they create a beautiful, vibrant space that feels like a sanctuary.

One sunny afternoon, as they’re sitting in the garden, Ginny places her hand on (Y/n)’s belly and feels a strong kick. She laughs, her eyes sparkling with joy.

“He’s going to be a Quidditch player, just like his mum,” Ginny says, her voice filled with pride.

(Y/n) smiles, her heart swelling with love. “Or maybe a gardener, like his other mum,” she replies, her voice soft and tender.

. . .

As the due date approaches, Ginny becomes even more protective and attentive. She takes over more of the household chores, insists on carrying all the heavy objects, and makes sure (Y/n) is comfortable at all times. They attend birthing classes together, where they learn breathing techniques and labor positions.

Ginny reads every book she can find on pregnancy and childbirth, wanting to be as prepared as possible. She often stays up late, reading by the soft glow of a lamp while (Y/n) sleeps beside her, her hand resting on her belly.

. . .

One night, (Y/n) wakes to find Ginny gently stroking her belly, her face illuminated by the soft light.

“What are you thinking about?” (Y/n) asks, her voice hushed.

Ginny smiles, her eyes filled with love. “About how lucky I am,” she replies. “And how much I love you both.”

(Y/n) reaches out and takes Ginny’s hand, squeezing it gently. “We’re lucky too,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “I can’t wait to see you as a mum.”

. . .

The third trimester brings its own set of challenges. (Y/n) becomes more uncomfortable as her belly grows, and sleep becomes elusive. Ginny does everything she can to help, massaging (Y/n)’s aching back, placing pillows around her to make her more comfortable, and whispering soothing words when the baby’s kicks keep her awake at night.

Despite the discomfort, there are moments of pure joy. (Y/n) feels a deep connection to the life growing inside her, and Ginny’s excitement and love are a constant source of strength.

One evening, as they sit on the couch, Ginny places her head on (Y/n)’s belly and talks to the baby.

“Hey, little one,” she says softly. “We can’t wait to meet you. Your mums love you so much, and we’re going to take such good care of you.”

(Y/n) watches, her heart swelling with love. “He’s going to be so lucky to have you,” she says, her voice filled with emotion.

. . .

As (Y/n)’s due date approaches, the excitement and nervousness build. They have their bags packed for the hospital, the nursery is ready, and they’ve read all the books. Still, nothing quite prepares them for the moment when (Y/n) goes into labor.

It happens one sweltering summer evening. (Y/n) feels the first pangs of labor and calls out to Ginny, who rushes to her side. They grab their bags and make their way to St. Mungo’s, their hearts pounding with a mixture of fear and excitement.

The labor is long and exhausting, but Ginny never leaves (Y/n)’s side, her hand a constant source of comfort and strength. She whispers words of encouragement, strokes (Y/n)’s hair and forehead, and reassures her that everything will be okay.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the cries of a newborn fill the room. Tears stream down Ginny’s face as she looks at their son for the first time, his tiny body cradled in (Y/n)’s arms.

“He’s perfect,” Ginny whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “Hello, Freddie. Welcome to the world.”

(Y/n) smiles through her tears, her heart overflowing with love. “He’s beautiful,” she agrees. “Just like his namesake.”

. . .

They bring Fred home to their cottage, where they spend their first weeks as a family in a blissful haze of sleepless nights and joyful moments. The entire Weasley family comes to visit, showering them with love and support. Molly and Arthur are frequent visitors, offering advice and marveling at their grandson.

As Ginny and (Y/n) settle into their new roles as mothers, they find a new sense of purpose and joy. Their love for each other, and for their son, becomes the foundation of their life together, a beacon of hope in a world forever changed.

One evening, as they sit by the fire with baby Fred asleep in Ginny’s arms, (Y/n) looks at her family, her heart filled with gratitude and contentment. “We’ve come so far,” she says softly, her eyes meeting Ginny’s. “I never thought we’d find this much happiness after everything.”

Ginny smiles, her eyes shining with love. “We’ve been through a lot,” she agrees. “But we have each other. And that’s all we need.”

Together, they watch the flames dance in the hearth, the future stretching out before them like a promise. No matter what challenges lie ahead, they know they’ll face them together, their love a constant, unwavering light in the darkness.

And as they look forward to the future with their son, they know that the best is yet to come.

. . .

Little Fred Potter grows quickly, filling their lives with laughter, curiosity, and boundless energy. His first steps are cheered on by both mums, and his first words, a mix of babble and attempts at imitating his mothers, become cherished memories captured in photographs scattered around their home.

As Fred grows, so does their love for him. He inherits Ginny's mischievous grin and (Y/n)'s curiosity about the world. They take him to the Burrow often, where he becomes fast friends with Molly and Arthur's grandchildren, creating bonds that mirror the deep connections forged by the Weasley clan.

On a crisp spring morning, (Y/n) wakes up with a familiar sense of nausea. Memories of her first pregnancy flood back, and she finds herself counting the days with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Ginny notices the change in (Y/n)'s routine, the subtle signs that were so familiar from before.

One evening, over a quiet dinner at home, (Y/n) finally gathers the courage to broach the subject.

“Ginny,” she begins, her voice steady but tinged with nervousness, “I think . . . I think I might be pregnant again.”

Ginny's fork pauses midway to her mouth, her eyes widening with surprise and then joy. “Really?” she breathes out, her voice filled with hope.

(Y/n) nods, a small smile playing on her lips. “I haven't taken a test yet, but . . . I just have this feeling.”

Ginny's face breaks into a wide grin, and she sets her fork down, reaching across the table to take (Y/n)'s hand in hers. “Let's go see a healer,” she suggests eagerly. “Just to be sure, yeah?”

. . .

The next morning, they find themselves once again at St. Mungo's, waiting anxiously for the healer to confirm their suspicions. The healer smiles warmly as she performs the examination, then turns to face them with a nod.

“You're pregnant,” she confirms, her tone gentle and reassuring. “Congratulations.”

Tears well up in (Y/n)'s eyes, and Ginny pulls her into a tight embrace. They stay like that for a long moment, their hearts overflowing with joy and gratitude.

“We're going to have another baby,” Ginny murmurs against (Y/n)'s ear, her voice filled with wonder.

. . .

The news spreads quickly through their family and friends, greeted with an outpouring of love and support. Molly is overjoyed at the prospect of another grandchild from her youngest daughter, and she immediately starts knitting tiny sweaters and booties. The entire Weasley clan celebrates with a festive dinner at the Burrow, where Fred – seven now – runs around with his cousins, oblivious to the excitement around him.

As (Y/n)'s pregnancy progresses, Ginny becomes even more attentive and nurturing. She takes over household chores with a smile, ensuring (Y/n) has everything she needs and more. They attend prenatal appointments together, holding hands tightly as they listen to the steady beat of their second child's heart.

Fred, sensing the changes in his mums' routines, becomes even more affectionate, often cuddling up to (Y/n)'s growing belly and whispering secrets to his unborn sibling.

. . .

In the evenings, Ginny reads to Fred and (Y/n), her voice gentle and soothing as she spins tales of bravery, magic, and love. They talk about their hopes and dreams for their expanding family, imagining what their new baby will be like and how Fred will adjust to being a big brother.

“You're going to be the best big brother,” (Y/n) tells Fred one evening, her hand resting on her belly. “You'll teach your little sibling all sorts of mischief.”

Fred grins mischievously, his eyes shining with excitement. “And you'll teach them all about plants and flowers, right?”

(Y/n) nods, her heart swelling with love for her son and the baby growing inside her. “Yes, we'll teach them everything.”

. . .

As (Y/n)'s pregnancy progresses, their days are filled with anticipation and wonder. Ginny takes on more responsibilities around the house, ensuring (Y/n) rests and stays comfortable. She prepares nutritious meals, her culinary skills expanding to include dishes that satisfy (Y/n)'s cravings and ensure both mother and baby are healthy.

One morning, (Y/n) wakes to find Ginny and Fred huddled close to her belly, their heads bent together in conversation. She watches them silently, a small smile tugging at her lips as she listens to their murmured words.

“Do you think they can hear us?” Fred asks in a hushed voice, his eyes wide with curiosity.

Ginny nods, her hand resting gently on (Y/n)'s belly. “I think they can,” she replies softly. “What do you want to tell them today?”

Fred thinks for a moment, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Tell them about Quidditch,” he decides finally, his face lighting up with excitement. “And how we're going to play together when they're bigger.”

Ginny chuckles softly, her heart swelling with love for her son and the baby growing inside (Y/n). “That sounds like a wonderful idea,” she agrees, her voice warm with affection.

(Y/n) closes her eyes, savoring the moment. She feels a deep sense of gratitude and contentment, knowing that her children are loved and cherished by the woman she loves with all her heart.

. . .

As the weeks pass, Ginny and Fred continue their ritual of talking to the baby. They share stories of their adventures, their dreams for the future, and the love that binds their family together. Sometimes, Ginny sings softly, her voice a lullaby that soothes both Fred and the baby nestled within (Y/n)'s womb.

One evening, as they sit together in the nursery, Fred places his hand on (Y/n)'s belly and waits patiently. When he feels a gentle kick, his eyes widen in amazement, and he looks up at Ginny with a wide grin.

“They kicked!” he exclaims excitedly, his voice filled with wonder.

Ginny's eyes sparkle with pride as she strokes Fred's hair affectionately. “They did,” she confirms softly. “I think they like hearing your voice.”

Fred beams, his cheeks flushed with happiness. “I can't wait to meet them,” he says earnestly, his hand still resting on (Y/n)'s belly.

. . .

One evening, (Y/n) wakes with a sharp pain in her abdomen. Fear grips her heart as she clutches the sheets, her mind racing with worry. Ginny stirs beside her, instantly alert.

“(Y/n), what's wrong?” Ginny asks urgently, her voice filled with concern as she sits up and reaches for (Y/n)'s hand.

Tears well up in (Y/n)'s eyes as she tries to speak. “I . . . It hurts, Gin,” she manages to say, her voice trembling.

Ginny's heart races as she reaches for her wand, summoning a Patronus to alert their healer, as well as her mother. Within moments, Molly arrives to watch after Fred, and (Y/n) and Ginny are at St. Mungo's, surrounded by healers who rush to (Y/n)'s side.

After a tense examination, the healer delivers the devastating news – (Y/n) has experienced a complication, and there's a risk of miscarriage.

The world seems to stop as Ginny's heart shatters into a million pieces. She clings to (Y/n)'s hand, her eyes filled with tears. “No,” she whispers hoarsely. “Please, no.”

(Y/n) grips Ginny's hand tightly, her own heart breaking at the thought of losing their baby. “Ginny, I . . .” she begins, her voice thick with emotion, and tears welling in her eyes. “I-I don’t kno-ow what I d-d-d-did wrong.”

The healer interrupts gently, explaining the options and the steps they will take to monitor and care for (Y/n). Ginny listens, her jaw clenched with determination as she nods, her gaze never leaving (Y/n)'s face.

. . .

Days pass in a haze of worry and anxiety. Ginny hardly leaves (Y/n)'s side, taking on all responsibilities at home and at work to ensure (Y/n) rests and recovers. The nursery sits silent and untouched, a painful reminder of their shattered hopes and dreams.

One afternoon, as (Y/n) lies in bed, exhausted from the emotional toll, Ginny sits beside her, holding her hand and brushing stray strands of hair from her face.

“I'm so sorry, (Y/n),” Ginny murmurs softly, her voice thick with guilt and sorrow. “I should have been more careful. I should have…”

(Y/n) reaches out and cups Ginny's face in her hands, her heart aching for her. “Ginny, this isn't your fault,” she says firmly. And if anything, it’s mine, she thinks miserably, but doesn’t voice her thoughts. “We'll get through this together, okay?”

Ginny nods, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I love you so much,” she whispers brokenly, her forehead resting against (Y/n)'s.

. . .

As (Y/n)'s pregnancy progresses past the scare, their days are filled with cautious optimism and renewed hope. Ginny and (Y/n) cherish each moment, savoring the little milestones and imagining the future with their growing family.

One evening, as they sit together by the fire, Ginny leans over and presses a gentle kiss to (Y/n)'s belly. She smiles warmly as she feels a flutter of movement beneath her lips, her heart overflowing with love.

“They're getting stronger,” Ginny murmurs softly, her voice filled with wonder.

(Y/n) nods, her hand resting on Ginny's shoulder. “It's amazing,” she agrees, her eyes shining with tears of happiness. “I can't wait to meet them.”

. . .

As the weeks pass, (Y/n) and Ginny tread cautiously through the remainder of the pregnancy. They cherish each moment, from feeling the baby kick to preparing the nursery once again. Ginny becomes even more attentive and nurturing, ensuring (Y/n) takes her vitamins, rests, and avoids stress.

Fred, sensing the tension in the air, becomes more affectionate, often cuddling up to (Y/n)'s belly and whispering encouraging words to his unborn sibling. His innocence and love provide a much-needed source of comfort and hope for both mothers.

. . .

In the quiet moments before sleep, Ginny often finds herself lost in thoughts of their growing family. She watches (Y/n) sleep peacefully beside her, her hand resting protectively on her belly. Ginny places her own hand over (Y/n)'s, feeling the gentle movements beneath her fingertips.

“I love you both so much,” Ginny murmurs softly to (Y/n) and the baby, her voice a whisper in the darkness. “You're both so strong.”

(Y/n) stirs slightly, sensing Ginny's presence even in her sleep. She smiles sleepily, her dreams filled with visions of their children growing up in a home filled with love and resilience.

. . .

Fred becomes even more excited as the due date approaches, eagerly counting down the days and asking endless questions about babies and siblings. He helps Ginny and (Y/n) prepare the nursery once again, carefully arranging toys and books for his new sibling.

One afternoon, as they finish decorating the nursery, Fred steps back to admire their handiwork. He beams proudly, his chest puffed out with pride.

“I think the baby will like it,” he says confidently, his eyes shining with anticipation.

Ginny ruffles Fred's hair affectionately. “I think so too,” she agrees warmly, her heart swelling with love for her son and the baby growing inside (Y/n).

. . .

The Weasley family gathers once again to celebrate the upcoming arrival. Molly and Arthur beam with pride, showering (Y/n) with hugs and words of encouragement. Ron and Luna arrive with gifts and stories of their own children, their laughter filling the room with joy. Harry sits close by his sister, his heart swelling with love for his sister, and Freddie, and his unborn niece or nephew, his family growing larger and happier with each passing day. Hermione hovers nearby, taking with Ginny in quiet, concerned undertones, her hand occasionally brushing her own stomach, making (Y/n) wonder if Hermione herself may be pregnant, and she can’t wait to have her own niece or nephew running around – maybe with her Hermione’s dark brown hair, and Harry’s green eyes (the color both Potter children had inherited from their mother, Lily).

As they sit around the table for dinner, Ginny looks around at her family with gratitude and love. She squeezes (Y/n)'s hand under the table, her eyes shining with tears of happiness.

“We're so lucky,” Ginny murmurs softly, her voice filled with emotion. “To have each other, and to have this.”

(Y/n) nods, her heart overflowing with love for Ginny and their extended family. “We are,” she agrees softly, her gaze meeting Ginny's.

. . .

In the final weeks of (Y/n)'s pregnancy, Ginny becomes even more attentive and protective. She takes leave from work to be with (Y/n) full-time, ensuring she rests and stays comfortable. They spend quiet afternoons together, reading stories to Fred and talking about their hopes and dreams for their new baby.

One evening, as they sit together in the nursery, Ginny takes (Y/n)'s hand in hers, her gaze filled with love and anticipation.

“I can't believe we're going to meet them soon,” Ginny murmurs softly, her voice filled with wonder.

(Y/n) smiles warmly, her heart swelling with love for Ginny and their growing family. “I can't wait,” she admits, her voice just as soft.

. . .

The day of (Y/n)'s labor arrives with a mix of excitement and nervousness. Ginny remains calm and steady, her voice a constant source of reassurance as they make their way to St. Mungo's. Fred stays with Molly and Arthur, eagerly awaiting news of his new sibling.

The labor is intense but swift, and soon the cries of a newborn fill the room. Ginny's eyes fill with tears as she looks at their second child for the first time, their tiny body cradled in (Y/n)'s arms.

“It's a girl,” the healer announces softly, her voice filled with warmth.

(Y/n) gazes down at their daughter, her heart overflowing with love. “Hello, Lily,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “Welcome to the world.”

Ginny leans in close, pressing a gentle kiss to (Y/n)'s forehead before turning her attention to their daughter. “Hello, Lily,” she echoes softly, her voice filled with tenderness. “You're perfect.”

. . .

They bring Lily home to their cottage, where they settle into their new routine as a family of four. Fred adjusts quickly to his role as a big brother, showering Lily with hugs and kisses and proudly showing her his favorite toys. The Weasley family visits often, showering Molly with love and affection, and Fred becomes the self-appointed protector of his baby sister.

As Ginny and (Y/n) navigate the challenges and joys of raising two young children, their love for each other deepens. They find moments of quiet amidst the chaos, holding hands by the fire or stealing kisses in the nursery. Their home is filled with laughter and love, a haven where their children grow and thrive.

. . .

One crisp September morning, the excitement in their cottage is palpable as Fred prepares for his first journey to Hogwarts. Ginny and (Y/n) help him pack his trunk, Fred insisting on bringing his favorite books to share with his new friends. Lily, now a toddler full of curiosity and mischief, toddles around their legs, watching her big brother with wide eyes.

“Are you excited, Freddie?” Ginny asks, smiling fondly at her son as she adjusts his scarf.

Fred nods eagerly, his eyes shining with anticipation. “I can't wait to ride the Hogwarts Express,” he declares proudly, straightening his robes. “And to see the castle!”

(Y/n) kneels down to Lily's level, planting a kiss on her cheek. “You'll have to wait a few more years, sweetheart,” she murmurs softly, brushing a strand of hair from Lily’s face.

Lily pouts playfully, reaching up to tug on (Y/n)'s hair. “Castle!” she insists, her eyes wide with wonder.

Ginny laughs, scooping her daughter into her arms. “You'll be the bravest witch when it's your turn,” she promises, pressing a kiss to Lily's forehead.

. . .

At King's Cross Station, Fred stands nervously beside Ginny and (Y/n), his trunk at his feet and his cat in its cage. The platform bustles with students and families, the air filled with excitement and farewell hugs.

“You'll be fine, Fred,” Ginny assures him, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “Just find your friends and enjoy the journey.”

(Y/n) brushes a stray tear from her cheek, her heart full of pride and bittersweet emotion. “Write to us as soon as you can,” she urges him, her voice trembling slightly.

Fred nods bravely, a lump in his throat. “I will,” he promises solemnly, hugging them tightly. “I love you both.”

Ginny hugs him back fiercely, her eyes shining with tears. “We love you too, Freddie,” she whispers hoarsely, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

. . .

With a final wave, Fred gathers his courage and disappears into the crowd, blending in with the students in their school robes. Ginny watches him go, her heart filled with a mixture of pride and longing.

“He's growing up so fast,” she murmurs softly, leaning into (Y/n)'s side.

(Y/n) wraps her arm around Ginny's waist, pulling her close. “He's going to have an amazing adventure,” she agrees warmly, pressing a kiss to Ginny's temple.

Lily squirms in Ginny's arms, reaching out to wave at the departing train. “Bye-bye!” she calls out happily, her laughter echoing through the station.

. . .

Back at their cottage, the atmosphere feels quieter without Fred's boundless energy and chatter. Lily toddles around, exploring every corner with wide-eyed curiosity, her laughter filling the rooms that still echo with memories of Fred.

Ginny and (Y/n) find themselves adjusting to the new dynamics of their family. Ginny takes on more responsibilities with Lily, playing with toys and reading stories to her before bedtime. (Y/n) spends precious moments with their daughter, playing games and exploring the garden together.

One evening, as they sit together by the fire, Ginny watches Lily play with her stuffed dragon, her heart swelling with love for her daughter.

“She's growing so fast,” Ginny murmurs softly, her gaze fixed on Lily’s animated gestures.

(Y/n) nods, her own eyes never leaving their daughter's joyful expression. “She's going to be just as adventurous as Fred,” she predicts fondly, her voice tinged with pride.

. . .

As the days turn into weeks, Lily becomes more accustomed to being the center of attention. She delights in having Ginny and (Y/n) all to herself, soaking up their love and affection with a smile that lights up their home.

Ginny and (Y/n) make sure to keep Fred updated with letters and care packages, filling each parcel with homemade treats and news from home. They eagerly await his responses, treasuring every word that bridges the distance between them.

. . .

One afternoon, as they play in the garden, Lily toddles over to Ginny and tugs on her robes, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“Feddie?” she asks innocently, her voice tinged with confusion.

Ginny smiles warmly, scooping her daughter into her arms. “He's at school, sweetheart,” she explains gently, brushing a strand of hair from Lily's face.

Lily frowns slightly, her tiny brow furrowing in thought. “School,” she repeats slowly, her expression thoughtful.

Ginny kisses the top of her head, her heart swelling with love. “He'll be back for the holidays,” she assures her, her voice filled with reassurance.

. . .

One sunny afternoon, (Y/n) sits with Lily in the garden, helping her plant colorful flowers in small pots. Lily giggles as she digs her tiny fingers into the soil, her eyes bright with excitement.

“Look, Mumma!” Lily exclaims proudly, holding up a daisy with dirt-covered hands.

(Y/n) laughs warmly, brushing dirt off Lily's cheek. “That's wonderful, Lily,” she praises, her heart swelling with love. “You're a natural gardener.”

Lily beams, her smile lighting up her face. “I want to grow a big garden like yours,” she declares earnestly, her eyes wide with determination.

(Y/n) presses a kiss to Lily's forehead, her heart overflowing with pride. “You can grow anything you set your mind to,” she assures her daughter, her voice gentle and encouraging.

. . .

The arrival of summer brings a familiar excitement to their cottage as they prepare for Fred's return from Hogwarts.

Ginny and (Y/n) clean and decorate Fred's room, filling it with fresh linens and his favorite treats. Lily eagerly helps, her excitement matching theirs as she counts down the days until her big brother comes home.

One sunny morning, the trio make their way to Platform 9 and 3 Quarters once again. Lily squeals with delight, racing to greet her brother with Ginny and (Y/n) close behind. Fred’s face lights up with a wide grin at the sight of his mothers and sister.

“Fred!” Lily cries out happily, throwing herself into his arms.

Fred laughs warmly, lifting Lily into the air and spinning her around. “Hey, Lily!” he greets her enthusiastically, his eyes sparkling with joy. “I missed you!”

Ginny wraps her arms around Fred in a tight hug, her eyes brimming with tears of happiness. “Welcome home, Fred,” she whispers hoarsely, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

(Y/n) joins them, smiling warmly at Fred. “We're so glad you're home,” she says sincerely, her voice filled with love.

. . .

Throughout the summer, Fred fills their days with stories of his adventures at Hogwarts. Lily listens wide-eyed, hanging onto his every word as he describes Quidditch matches, magical creatures, and his favorite classes. They spend afternoons in the garden, playing Quidditch with makeshift brooms and laughing until their sides ache.

One afternoon, as they sit together by the lake, Fred teaches Lily how to skip stones across the water. Lily watches in awe as Fred demonstrates, her brow furrowed in concentration as she tries it herself.

“You'll get it, Lily,” Fred encourages her warmly, kneeling beside her. “Just keep trying.”

Lily nods determinedly, picking up another stone and sending it skipping across the water. She jumps up and down with excitement as it skips twice before sinking beneath the surface.

“I did it!” Lily exclaims proudly, turning to Fred with a wide grin.

Fred scoops Lily into a hug, lifting her off her feet. “You're a natural,” he praises her, spinning her around.

Ginny and (Y/n) watch fondly from their spot on the grass, their hearts overflowing with love for their children and the bond they share.

. . .

Evenings are spent gathered around the table for dinner, sharing stories and laughter as they reconnect as a family, Lily, now more vocal and opinionated, joins in the conversation with enthusiasm, her laughter blending with Fred and chatter.

. . .

As the summer draws to a close, Fred eagerly prepares to return to Hogwarts for yet another school year. Ginny and (Y/n) help him pack his trunk once again, filling it with new books and supplies for the year ahead. Lily stands beside him, her expression a mix of pride and sadness.

“I'll miss you, Freddie,” Lily admits quietly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Fred kneels down in front of Lily, pulling her into a tight hug. “I'll miss you too, Lil,” he whispers earnestly, his voice filled with love. “But I'll write to you every week, I promise.”

Lily nods bravely, wiping a tear from her cheek. “Okay,” she agrees softly, her voice tinged with sadness.

As they wave goodbye to Fred at King's Cross Station, Ginny and (Y/n) exchange a bittersweet smile. They watch him disappear into the crowd, their hearts heavy with longing but also bursting with pride for the young man he's becoming.

“We have such amazing children,” Ginny murmurs softly, her voice filled with love.

(Y/n) nods, her hand finding Ginny's and squeezing it gently. “We do,” she agrees warmly, her gaze lingering on the spot where Fred vanished from view.

Word Count: 9288 words

#ginny weasley x fem reader #ginny weasley x female reader #ginny weasley x reader

34 notes · View notes

magicbystarlight · 6 months ago

Text

Before I Knew You - Part Eleven

Bill Weasley x Reader

Masterlist, Part One

Summary: You’ve spent years training under Madam Pomfrey in the hopes that you would join the Healers at St. Mungo’s at graduation. But in the aftermath of the death of Albus Dumbledore, you chose to join the Order instead. When you’re forced into hiding, you find yourself alone with Bill Weasley and his new wolfish tendencies.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: 18+, typical canon warnings, smut, age gap, oral sex (fem recieving), delayed orgasm, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, rough sex, cum eating (kinda?), allusions to knotting, angst. Minors DNI.

A/N: This would not have been written without you, Lovely 💛

There was a lot of arguing. The younger siblings demanded answers. Their parents tried to give none. Bill countered that they should know. That it was in everyone’s best interest to be prepared in case they too were interrogated. Fred suggested moving you. He flinched at the growling disagreement from Bill. Molly tried to argue he may be right, but George said Yaxley could be hoping for that. Fear causes people to make mistakes, he argued.

“What exactly did he ask?” The table fell silent, looking towards you. But you were only looking at Arthur.

“Much the same as his father had asked at the wedding. Why you’d been there, where you’d been before, where you went after. He asked that if I heard anything about or from you, to tell him. Only him. And if I saw you," he looked at Bill who nodded for him to continue, "to tell you that he has someplace safe.”

The table erupted again with words like delusion and trap thrown around.

"He's going to the twins next." The commotion died once more, all eyes on you.

"How do you know?"

"Because I know Cillian." No. That wasn't right. The Cillian you knew wasn't a murderer. "At least, I know he was jealous of them back in school. Thought one of them had a thing for me." You'd nearly forgotten that. You looked between Fred and George. "He'll be more aggressive with you because of it."

Fred winked. "Don't worry 'bout us, love—

—we can handle him," George finished.

Bill's fist slammed on the table, making Ginny flinch. "This isn't a fucking joke!"

"But they need to act like it is," you countered. You kept your eyes on the twins. They needed to be prepared. They needed to know. "You've got to be as combative with him as he will be with you. Make it clear you have no intention to cooperate with him. If you act any differently it'll look suspicious to him."

Molly tapped her wand against the table, all the dishes lifting from the table. They flew to the kitchen, scraping themselves into the trash before settling into the sink. She followed them, waving her wand. Water and soap filled the sink. You’d forgotten magic could be used for something as mundane as dishes.

“That’s good to know,” George said, trying to ignore the uncertainty that had settled over the table with Molly’s abrupt end to dinner. Half the plates still had food.

“What if he brings his father?” Ginny asked.

“He won’t. Cillian has to be going behind his back trying to find me. Corbin wants me dead.”

Plates clattered in the kitchen. The Weasleys shared looks with each other.

Molly stood clutching the counter, staring out the window. "We should have all gone into hiding when we had a chance." Arthur came to her side and she allowed herself to be brought into his arms, burying her face in his chest. It hurt to see.

Ginny’s final day had been ruined. At least she’d be safe from Cillian’s questioning at Hogwarts. It would be too risky for him to go there. Even with Fred and George he’d have to be careful. Eyes would be everywhere in Diagon Alley with someone reporting back to someone who could report back to his father of his activities. That was if he wasn’t already being followed.

They left shortly after. Molly’s hug was a bit tighter than comfortable when she promised everything would be alright. Fred said he’d stop by again soon. Ginny said nothing, but squeezed your hand with watery eyes. You didn’t go outside to see them off, but as you looked at the clean kitchen you wish you had. There was nothing there to keep your hands busy. Magic had cleaned the dishes and put them in their place. It had wiped the counters. Swept the floors. Even the chairs had been pushed in.

One pop. Then another. And then the door, steps, a hand on your shoulder. "I'm sorry. I should have told you earlier."

"Ginny got to enjoy most of her day. I wouldn't have been much fun if you'd told me before.” His hand fell off as you shrugged. “Besides, it’s better that they all know. So they’re prepared.”

“You really think he’s gonna go after them?”

“Cillian was jealous a lot.” Another thing you’d nearly forgotten. “I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t try to track down every guy that’s ever spoken to me.” Not the women though. He didn’t think Cho had counted. You turned and rested your head against his chest, his embrace welcome. The tension eased in your body.

“It’ll be okay,” he promises, “they’ll be okay.”

—

Bill left early the next morning to see Ginny off, reluctantly leaving you in bed with a kiss and a promise to not to be gone long. You stayed in bed for a bit, but sleep never returned.

The sun rose higher in the sky as you worked out in the garden. Molly had brought the wolfsbane stored in the Burrow’s shed, miscellaneous potion ingredients that had been collected from various Order members, and any seeds she could spare the day before. Professor Sprout’s lectures echoed through your mind as you planted new seeds and replanted old plants into neat lines. You’d have to figure out how to build a greenhouse for some of the more difficult plants. There was plenty of sand to make glass.

When all that could be done in the small garden was done, it was still a quarter till ten. How you missed the hours it would take on the farm.

Your hair was your next task. That would take time. Washing, brushing, using your favorite hair potion Ginny had been thoughtful enough to bring. You considered styling it without the aid of magic to pass the time, but decided against it.

As your hair righted itself, your thoughts drifted back to the wolfsbane. Maybe if you could get in contact with Charlie, he could get some dragon blood. And maybe Hagrid could get some Occamy eggs. The rest would be easy enough to get your hands on. Then you could finally get a real attempt at the Wolfsbane Potion for Remus.

Until then, you had other things you needed to start working on. Potions and salves to make now that you had the ingredients.

That was how Bill found you a while later. Bent over a cauldron on the stove, hair covered to protect it from the steam of the Murtlap Essence. “Mum made treacle tart,” he said, sliding a pastry box on the counter. “And brownies.” Another box. “And some biscuits.” A third box. “She bakes a lot when she’s worried. I don’t think she slept at all.”

Your shoulders deflated. She’d have been worried anyway, with Ginny off to Hogwarts, but with the threat of Cillian hanging over her sons it must be so much worse.

“She wanted to know if she can drop by a couple times a week while I’m at work.”

“Why?”

“She wants to make sure you're doing alright. Thinks you have to be lonely here. She won’t say it, but she’s gonna be lonely too now that Ginny’s gone.” His arm slid around your waist. “I told Fred and George they should come by sometimes too.”

Your gaze snapped to his face, surprised. “Why?”

“Because you need a life outside of me. And I know my family isn’t really that, but I’ll see if I can get the other Order members to come by. Get them checked up and all that.”

“Do you really think that’s the greatest idea? You could barely stand having Kingsley here. Thought you were gonna tear Fred’s head off yesterday.”

“I’ll still get you to myself at night, right?”

“Yeah but,” you tried to explain, “are you sure you’re up for that? If it could make your symptoms worse, especially with the full moon coming, then mayb—“

His kiss cut you off.

“Like I said,” he breathed against your lips, “I’ll have you to myself at night. That’s enough.”

“But everything with Cillian, is it really safe?”

“It’s safer, I think, than you being here alone all the time. And we’ll come up with a plan in case something goes wrong. Practice some defensive spells, figure out a place to go.”

You kissed him softly. “Thank you.”

“Oh don’t thank me,” he said, his teasing tone setting in, “it’s about time you started pulling your weight. Can’t have you lounge on the beach all day in some provocative little swimsuit, can we?”

You scoffed. “It was not provocative!”

“Have to disagree with you there, love.” His nose brushed against your cheek. “Everything you wear is provocative.”

“Guess I’ll stop wearing anything then.”

His groan had you smiling. “Please tell me you’re nearly done,” he begged.

“It’s gotta simmer for another couple hours,” he groaned again, “but it’ll be fine on its own fo—OH! Bill!”

It seemed he was determined to make it a habit of throwing you over his shoulder. Only this time he bypassed the couch and kicked the door to the bedroom open. You bounced against the mattress, giggling as you removed the hair covering. He was eager, giddy even, as he pulled off his clothes. He crawled up the bed, smiling into a messy kiss before helping to remove your own.

His lips trailed down your neck. Teeth and tongue teased your collarbone. Your fingers tangled in his hair as his mouth found your breasts. A soft moan slipped out. He alternated between them, nipping and licking until you were squirming. When you asked him to stop teasing, he nuzzled into your neck and laughed. "I've got the patience today, love."

It clicked what he meant a moment before he slid down. Your groan turned high and breathless as his tongue glided between your folds. "Oh fuck," you gasped, hips jumping. His hand held you in place. You whimpered. This wasn't fair. His tongue traced a lazy pattern that had your legs shaking. You wanted to grab him and pull him closer. But he was unmoving. The pleasure was agonizing. He would go faster then slower. Fast, then slow. You felt the edge creeping closer and then he'd pull back and nip at the softness of your thighs.

He was merciless. He was enjoying himself. His groans were sinful, his hands greedy as the touched every part of you but the place you needed them most, his pace never slowing.

"Please," you begged, voice cracking.

Bill chuckled. "Please, what, love?" he asked, the vibrations shooting up your spine.

"Please stop teasing me. Please, let me cum. Please."

"So desperate for me, eh?" His fingers pushed into you. Rubbing and searching until they curled against a spot that had you seeing white. He hummed in delight, letting his tongue flick over your clit. The knot in your stomach snapped, his name falling from your lips over and over.

He didn't stop or slow as the high faded.

"Bill," you cried. It was too much. You pushed at his head, trying to get away from the touch. You were too sensitive. His arm wrapped around your thigh and pulled you closer.

"One more, love."

"No, no, I can't. Bill, I can't."

"One more, love. Just one more," he promised. His hand was relentless. Fingers working that same spot. Your muscles tensed. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. Your vision blurred. The pleasure too intense, body locked and trembling. It was euphoric. When the spasming finally subsided you gulped down air.

Bill crawled back up, smiling proudly. "Beautiful," he said. The taste of you clung to his lips as he kissed you again. Your arms looped around his neck. You wanted more. Needed more. You pulled him closer. He settled between your legs. The head of his cock teased your entrance, making you jolt. Still sensitive. You whimpered into his mouth.

"Too much?" he asked, concerned.

Your legs wrapped around his and encouraged his hips forward. "Not enough."

His nose bumped against yours. "Godric, I love you."

He slid inside, inch by inch. Slowly. Your bodies pressed flush together. A gasp escaped when his hips finally met yours. His head fell to the crook of your neck, and he stilled for a moment, taking deep breaths. Then his hips pulled back and he began a slow pace. It was gentle. His lips caressing every part of your skin they could reach. Your hands trailed down his back. The pleasure built slowly until your climax hit again.

He kissed your jaw. "More?" he whispered.

"More."

The pace picked up. Slow became steady. You whimpered as he continued to fill you.

"So perfect," he groaned.

His hips stuttered and picked up speed. You could feel another orgasm approaching. You dug your nails into his skin, holding on tight. His breathing grew heavy, his kisses messy and wet. His hips slammed against yours and you tumbled over the edge crying his name. He followed, burying his face in your neck as his hips slowed and came to a stop.

Bill collapsed beside you and pulled you close. "Think you could go for five?" he panted. You swatted his chest. He laughed and kissed your hair. You didn't want to move. Your eyes were drooping in exhaustion when you realized you had to.

"The dittany," you sighed, reluctantly pulling away from him. You went to stand, but your legs wobbled.

"I'll get it," Bill laughed, guiding you back down. He left with a kiss, not bothering to slip anything on. He's not gone long and he didn't come back empty handed. He was gentle with the warm washcloth as he wiped up his spend that had seeped out of you. But you were still sensitive. And vocal. A wicked gleam in his eyes warned you it wasn't over.

"What are you—" your words cut off in a sharp cry as his tongue dragged across your cunt again.

"Cleaning up my mess" he said before diving back in. He was thorough, tongue sliding inside you and swirling around. You were exhausted and sure you couldn't give him what he wanted, but he wasn't deterred.

He licked and nipped and sucked. His name fell from your lips.

"Please," you sobbed.

He pulled back, wiping his chin. "Please what?"

"I can't. Please."

He hummed, considering, and dove back in. You gripped the sheets, withering under him. He was relentless. It was overwhelming. Every muscle tensed, the knot in your stomach coiling tight. You cried out. It was blissful torture. Your toes curled. Your legs shook. The orgasm hit like a tidal wave. You whimpered as his tongue eased you down.

When he was satisfied, he pulled back. "Six?"

"Don't you fucking dare." There was no ire in your tone.

"Need me to grab you anything?" he offered with a sly grin. "Since you can't walk?"

"Shut up." You threw a pillow at him. He laughed, dodging the assault.

"Be back in a minute."

He was true to his word, returning with two glasses of water, the box of treacle tart, and a fork. He handed you a glass and climbed in bed next to you. He left another kiss against your forehead. It felt normal. As if you'd been together for years. As if you were together. He offered you the first bite of the tart. A part of you ached.

—

Molly came the next morning after Bill had left for work. She was so different from your mother, yet so much the same. They both had to keep busy when things were stressful. Something to do to keep their mind clear. Your father wasn’t like that. He liked to sit and think and plan.

She left not long after Bill returned home. You worried she’d noticed the way Bill nearly greeted you with a kiss. But she said nothing about it. You’re not sure if that made you feel better or worse.

—

Tonks popped in for only an hour the day after. Her conversation stayed far from werewolves or the upcoming full moon. It’s only as she was preparing to leave she asked, “Think we’ll see Bill anytime soon?”

“I don’t think so.”

She didn’t comment more on it. She knew. You felt a prickle of annoyance after her departure. She knew and said nothing. Not before, not when Bill was struggling, not now. Next time you’d ask for—no, demand answers. It was only fair. For Bill’s health.

—

You’re alone the two days leading up to the full moon. Bill was insatiable. You woke up the morning of with Bill’s rushed pleas in your ear.

“Need you, love. Please.”

It’s different. Less controlled. Like he’d been starved and presented a buffet. He’s desperate. “Cum for me, please. Need to, fuck love, need to feel you squeeze me, please, please, please.” You complied happily.

—

You paced the living room. He was supposed to be home an hour before. You didn’t question him when he finally appeared. With the way he kissed you, it couldn’t have been anyone else.

He was rough. His hands bruising, possessive.

You don't remember making it to the bed or removing your clothes, but your there under him. His mouth is on your skin, biting and sucking. There would be bruises tomorrow. He buried himself inside you without resistance. The sound you let out was embarrassing. It only encouraged him. He fucked into you harder, his hand sliding between your bodies.

It's verging on painful. "Bill," you moaned, clawing at his shoulders. You don't want him to stop. His fingers circled your clit.

"Need you to cum," he groaned. His lips found yours again. His fingers worked faster. "I can't" he cut himself off with a growl, "can't hold back. Fuck, please cum." Your back arched and nails dug into his skin. He cursed. You cried, clenching around him. His hips slammed against yours once more, and then he stilled.

But something was wrong.

There was more pressure than there should be. You can't focus on it. Your eyes were too heavy. "Bill?" It came out groggy. His weight crashed into you. You were barely able to adjust him to allow yourself to breathe before you slipped into unconsciousness.

Author's Note: He said "I love you" and our girl assumed he meant in the friendly "Wow, you're so awesome and cool!" kinda way and not in the "In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you." kinda way. He's definitely having his own internal freakout about her nonresponse to it.

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#bill weasley #bill weasley x reader #bill weasley smut #bill weasley x you #bill weasley x hufflepuff!reader #bill weasley x healer!reader

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tomriddlehyperfixataion · 2 months ago

Text

The Diary of Tom Riddle- Tom Riddle x Reader - "Good" Ending.

pairing: Tom riddle x Fem reader

warnings: Horcruxes, Manipulation, Tom being Tom, side effects of being possessed, bleeding, self-harm, vomiting, (y/n) is going THROUGH it. horror elements. Tom Riddle.

summary: 16-year-old (y/n) finds a mysterious black book on the floor of after it slips out of Ginny Weasleys caldron, curious, she picks it up and keeps it-which leads to one thing after another and discovers the book is far more than it seems.

-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part 3- -Part 4- -Part 5- -Part 6- -Part 7- -Bad ending- -CC ending-

(y/n)’s hands shook as she entered the restricted section for the third night in a row. She couldn’t believe she’d been getting away with this every night, far after curfew had ended. But finally-the book Tom had needed her to get was in sight and she snatched it from the shelf, casting a quick ‘Silencio’ before undoing the chains around it and opening it.

“Possessions and reanimations” she muttered under her breath, looking for those two particular chapters Tom had told her to find. He’d told her one of the only, safe, ways to get whatever was trying to possess her out was to force it into a new host-that way it would leave more…willingly and not try to cling to her soul that it was trying to take over.

Research in the other books Tom had told her to read only confirmed that theory. An exorcism would leave her drained and vulnerable for the spirit/demon/being to reattach to, and it took a good chunk of magic/demonic magic knowledge that she did not have.

With a quick glance at the pages, she cast a copy spell to the diary and shoved the book back into the shelf after re-chaining it. Filch now a days patrolled the hallway where Mrs. Norris had been petrified so she didn’t have to worry about him.

Hopefully.

She carefully snuck back out of the restricted section, avoiding the patrolling prefects on the way back to her dorm. She let out a harsh breath as she reached her dorm room-her roommates/friends already asleep.

She crept to her bed and closed the curtains, casting the muffling spell and opening the diary that she’d been clutching in her hand. The two chapters were inked into the pages now, Tom making notes before her very eyes.

Her eyes drew to the scribble of notes at the bottom page.

‘Need healing potion. Special potion required to work. Must be done on a full moon. Blood sample needed. Large cauldron needed. Spell circle needed.’

She watched him scribble more and more notes with interest, feeling very touched he was so determined to help her get the attached spirit off her and into a body of its own so she could be free of it and, maybe, kill it so it couldn’t wreak havoc on Hogwarts.

The page flipped on its own and she watched as he drew out several spell circles, attempting to find the right one that she would need to draw out in blood before starting the potion that would build the body for the spirit that had latched onto her.

Finally, Tom landed on the perfect spell circle, two actually, it was all nonsense to her since it was very old magic, but Tom wrote notes at the bottom for her, detailing the properties of the spell circles and the runes within them.

‘The first circle is a sealing spell so it can't go anywhere. The second is a protection circle for you so it can't latch back onto you.’

(y/n) nodded to herself at the notes, watching the page flip again as Tom wrote down more notes and potion ingredients for the potion she’d create.

Three days of this, of watching Tom go nuts with his writing, watching firsthand of his magical knowledge-at only 16, Tom had been insanely knowledgeable and a magical genius, to the point where his personality enchantment was too. It was comforting, knowing he was so proactive in making sure she was going to be okay, that he wanted to help her.

It made warm fluffy feelings grow in her chest and tummy.

It made her think, while Tom continued to write notes, that she had wished-more than once now-that Tom was real, well-alive….alive and her age. He most likely was still alive, probably in his 60s now, but she wished the Tom she’d gotten to know was alive, real, not just words on a page or a ghost-like thing or just a spell.

She wanted him to be real, touchable, breathing…warm.

She sighed, it would never happen-Tom was only a personality enchantment, the most he would be ever able to do was to materialize outside the diary for a limited time or pull her into his memories/the subspace of his spell-based mind.

More recently, especially since telling her he believed she was being possessed, he’d been materializing outside the diary every night, watching over her as she slept and comforting her when she had nightmares about that strange room. It was nice, really nice, a comfort she hadn’t had since before the school year started remerging with Tom being around every night.

Those nights, when he stuck around, his hand a feather-light weight on her shoulder or in her hair, it was easy to sleep.

Her eyes drew back down to the diary-where Tom’s words stared back at her.

‘When is the next full moon (y/n)?’

(y/n) furrowed her brows and grabbed her astrology homework, flipping through the notes she’d taken. It seemed the next full moon was this upcoming Saturday, and it was Thursday night/very early Friday now. She told as such to Tom, and he quickly wrote back to her.

‘Very good, the quicker this is done the better. Now. I need you to get these potion ingredients and bring them to the 2nd floor girls’ lavatory, the haunted one you’ve mentioned.’

(y/n) furrowed her brows, why that bathroom in particular?

“why that room in particular?”

‘It’s not that room exactly, but what it leads to. For this spell to work, you need to be where the spirit is strongest, or where it’s been residing, so it’s more willing to leave your body, and since it’s the heir of Slytherin attempting to possess you-you need to go into the chamber of secrets.’

(y/n)’s eyes widened, and her jaw dropped open. “What?” she whispered under her breath, her quill shaking in her grip. She had to go into the chamber of secrets??? But how?! And how did Tom know how to get to it?? Was the entrance in the bathroom the whole damn time????

“how do you know where the entrance is?!”

‘I found it 50 years ago, during the attacks in 1942-3, while I was trying to hunt down the heir to stop the attacks. I couldn’t afford for Hogwarts to close, I didn’t have a home to go to, so I did what I had to do, and I found it. I couldn’t seal it off however, but maybe you can, or at least seal off most of the underground terrain.’

‘But I believe the heir died in the chamber attempting to find it, and 50 years ago attempted to do the same as they’re doing now-possessing someone to do the dirty work for them.’

(y/n) stared in horror at the page, her hand shaking. Dirty work for them…the heir of Slytherin had been possessing them and opening the chamber to attack muggleborns, so while she-technically-wasn’t responsible for all the attacks, she was being used as a host to open the chamber.

(y/n) took a deep breath, closing her eyes and strengthening her resolve.

“okay. What do I need to do?”

She spent the next whole day stealing potion ingredients from Snape’s potions cabinet, only getting a little at a time when he was off in classes, undoing the detection charm each time and then recasting it after relocking the door-Snape was none the wiser.

Tom really was a magical genius.

the day passed slowly, (y/n) watching the sky and clock anxiously as she waited for curfew to start and the full moon to be in the sky. Her friends noticed her anxiety, but she told them she was just stressed for exams since the distractions from the chamber hadn’t allowed much studying for everyone.

They understood and left her be after that.

After classes ended for the day, she rushed up to her dorm room, stowing away all the potion ingredients into the cauldron she’d hidden under her bed. She pushed the caldron back under the bedframe and hopped onto her bed, laying down.

She took a long deep breath, her eyes feeling heavy and her chest tight. She wanted to sleep, but was scared again-now knowing that when she did sleep-the heir could possess her with terrifying ease.

However Tom told her she should sleep a bit before going to the chamber, so she was fully rested and the strongest she could be before performing the spell.

So, she napped, and thankfully-when she woke up, she was still in her bed and her roommates were in the room, all chatting quietly in respect for her sleep. “Well good evening sleeping beauty,” her friend teased as she noticed (y/n) sitting up. “Have a good nap?”

(y/n) nodded, rubbing her eyes and then fixing her hair as she slid out of bed. It was about 6:30 now, time for dinner. Everyone crowded in the common room, waiting for Snape to arrive to take them to the Great Hall.

Dinner was a bit quiet, but (y/n) was nearly trembling with nerves, tonight would be the end of it. Tonight, the threat of the chamber of secrets would be defeated and things would finally go back to normal.

She eats her food faster than usual but tries to slow down so she didn’t look odd, and then as soon as she’s back in her dorm, she changes out of her robes and into some casual clothes, drawing the curtains around her bed and grabbing Tom’s diary from under her pillow.

“everything’s ready.”

The ink disappeared into the page and Tom’s elegant scrawl replaced it.

‘Very good. Well done (y/n),’

“thanks, im terrified.”

‘you’re being brave, and I commend you for that, what time is it now?’

(y/n) flushed at his compliment and looked at her watch. It was just about 7:15 now, the sun starting to set.

“7:15, its still a good while till the moon will be out.”

‘Very well,’

(y/n) talked to Tom a bit longer to ease her nerves, and soon enough her roommates were asleep, and it was way past curfew, the full moon visible through the windows that peered into the black lake.

She slowly slipped out of bed, slipping on her shoes and carefully taking the cauldron from below her bed, holding it carefully as she snuck out of her room, Tom’s diary and her wand tight in her other hand.

She crept out of the common room, swallowing harshly. She was all the way down in the dungeons and she had to get all the way up to the 2nd floor girls’ bathroom-where the ghost of Myrtle was-the girl who had died to the heir of Slytherin 50 years ago.

She could only imagine what could’ve happened if Tom hadn’t helped her discover the possession on her, maybe more deaths, maybe she would’ve been fully possessed and lost within her own body.

She swallowed down her fear and quietly walked through the torch-lit halls, slowly heading up each staircase-hiding every time she heard another footstep or the light of a patrolling professor or prefect.

She held her breath for a moment as she hid behind a pillar, her hand clutching her chest as she heard Professor Snape pass down the hallway behind her-exactly the hallway she had to go into.

She waited for a few long moments, waiting until the light from his wand was completely gone before she went for it, making it to the hall of moving staircases, which were hardly patrolled due to the complexity of it all.

She quickly made her way up the floors, pausing every time the staircase under her feet moved-waiting for it to move back to where she needed to go. Eventually, she got to the 2nd floor, sneaking down the hall, the caldron knocking against her legs every few seconds as she had to hold back from running to the bathroom.

Filch was asleep, snoring loudly, which covered up her footsteps and the creak of the door as she snuck into the bathroom. She let out a slow breath, casting a quick silencing charm to make sure no one heard her.

She turned to the sinks, her eyes drawing to the singular rusted sink, right in front of her. She set the cauldron down, walking towards the sink and attempted to turn the rusted sink on, but it didn’t. She gazed at the side of the nozzle, her fingers grazing the snake that was embedded into the metal.

This really was it, just like Tom said, this was the entrance to the chamber of secrets.

She swallowed harshly, taking a step back, looking at the sink structure as a whole. She took a deep breath, remembering the hissing language from her dreams, licking her lips.

“O-open,” She spoke in parseltongue, clumsy and she hoped she said the right thing, but it seems she had-the top part of the sink lifted into the air, her eyes going wide at the sight, next the sinks all slowly shifted apart to show a large opening-the sink with the snake embedding sinking into the floor-a grate sliding over it, allowing direct passage into the dark tunnel that went straight down.

The chamber of secrets had been beneath the castle all this time, which made her wonder-when plumbing had been implemented into the castle, how had it not been found? Surely it had a different entrance back then???

She shook her head, sighing, that was a thought for later. She picked up the cauldron, stepping closer to the tunnel edge. She looked over the edge, pursing her lips at the pitch black that enveloped the tunnel.

She clutched the caldron, casting a quick charm so nothing fell out, and jumped down.

Wind rushed past her ears and her hair flew up. She let out a scream as she descended into the tunnels below the castle, tumbling out of the pipe and onto a harsh pile of…she looked down and then instantly stood up, clutching the cauldron.

Bones.

Animal bones thankfully, but still bones. She took a shuddering breath and looked away, taking her wand out of her jumper pocket and holding it up. “Lumos,” she murmured, her wand illuminating her way as she delved deeper into the caverns beneath Hogwarts.

All around her she could hear the echo of dripping water, the sound of her feet hitting the ground, and her own breathing.

She covered her mouth and slammed into a stalagmite, a short scream escaping her as she looked upon the humongous snakeskin in front of her. It had to be at least 70 feet long, maybe more. What the fuck? Was this the skin of the monster of Slytherin?

Something clicked in her head-the monster was a basilisk. It only made sense. She shook her head, taking a deep breath and continuing, carefully maneuvering around the basilisk skin. The tunnel went deeper and deeper-curving further and further below Hogwarts, until finally she reached a wall guarded by two snakes, their eyes replaced with glittering emeralds.

They seemed to stare back at her, waiting for her to do something. She swallowed harshly and clumsily spoke parseltongue again. “Open,” she let out a breath as the snakes unraveled from each other, a slit in the wall appearing and the snakes now acting as hinges as the wall opened like a set of double doors.

She remembered seeing this in her nightmares.

She took a shuddering breath stepping into the chamber of secrets. Instantly she felt a chill go up her spine, looking into the long dark hallway that led deeper into the chamber of secrets. The stone path was wet-the sound of water dripping echoing through the massive space. On either side of her were rows and rows of serpent statues that curled up into the very very tall ceiling.

She swallowed down her nerves-clutching the cauldron handle in her fist. This was it, this was it. She was going to expel the heir of Slytherin from her soul and trap it in a body to seal it away so it couldn’t open the chamber of secrets or possess anyone ever again.

She nearly sped walked to the front of the chamber, looking up at the gigantic stature of Salazar Slytherin, that seemed to sneer down at her-as if it knew she was a muggleborn tramping upon his sacred space. She frowned, casting a drying charm on the floor beneath her and undoing the sticking charm on the cauldron, taking out everything she needed.

First things first, the spell circles. She took her wand, closing her eyes and turning her head away, slicing into her wrist to draw blood. She instantly felt queasy-even though usually blood didn’t make her queasy-but the reasoning for this time did.

She took a deep shaky breath and waved her wand over her wound, beginning to make the two spell circles Tom had drawn out in the diary for her, the diary open in front of her for reference. Soon they were drawn, and the runes glowed lightly, shimmering in the eerie green gloom of the chamber.

Next, she set up the cauldron. “Incendio,” she murmured, starting a fire and then setting the cauldron atop it after filling it with water. She flipped to the diary page where Tom had written down the potion ingredients.

She held her arm over the water-that was just starting to simmer-letting her blood drip down into the water. After that she healed her arm with a quick charm and covered it back up with her jumper sleeve, grabbing the other potion ingredients that were all set up in front of her crossed legs.

Crushed unicorn horn, boomslang skin, knot grass, crushed bone, and finally-she shuddered, looking down at her thumb and bringing it up to her mouth-biting off some of the skin that poked out near the nail, putting it in the potion. Flesh.

The potion boiled and bubbled a sickly peachy color, and she swallowed, she wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen now. Suddenly her vision went fuzzy, and she felt warmth drip from her nose-fuck fuck fuck-she dabbed her nose and saw the black inky blood from the week before. She swallowed hard-and then suddenly her hand was moving on its own, like a puppet on a string.

Her fingers closed around Tom’s diary, and she breathed hard-her eyes going wide as she picked up Tom’s diary and held it over the cauldron. “Wait-no-“ She whispered-not wanting to lose Tom-was the heir trying to get rid of the only thing capable of helping her?!

The diary dropped into the cauldron and (y/n) lurched forward, feeling a hot wet heat bubble out of her eyes and mouth, black ink like blood dripping down her skin-staining it. Her vision blurred in and out of focus as she watched the potion bubble and condense, the ink dripping from her eyes and mouth moving on its own towards the cauldron.

She tried to move back but the spell circle below her prevented her from moving too far-the magic pressed against her back as the 2nd spell circle drew the condensing potion and the ink blood towards it, the two combining and growing into a humanoid form.

She tried to wipe the ink-blood from her face, only smearing it and staining her hands, she gasped helplessly, feeling very lost now-Tom was supposed to help her-he was supposed to tell her what to do next after the heir was sealed.

She felt a hand curl under her chin and her eyes snapped up-her heart stopped.

“…T…Tom?” she asked, quietly…horrified. There he was, in flesh and blood and color. He smirked, looking down at the cauldron separating them and kicking it aside, the now empty cauldron clanging loudly on the chamber floor, rolling away and into the water that lined the hallway path.

(y/n) watched it roll into the water before a smooth, charming, soft and calculating voice interrupted her thoughts. “You played your part perfectly, my dear,” Tom’s voice cooed, his fingers tugging at her chin again to make her look back up at him-her breathing getting faster by the second.

“You-you-“ (y/n) stuttered, unable to make her thoughts coherent. What was going on? Why had Tom emerged from the potion? Where was the heir of Slytherin who’d been possessing her?

He seemed to hear her jumble of thoughts, and he chuckled, kneeling before her and taking her face-cupping it in his palm, his thumb rubbing across the ink/blood that stained her cheeks and lips. “So oblivious my dear, can you not see the obvious before you?” Tom cooed, squishing her cheeks and making her sit up on her knees to bring her closer to him, his breath ghosting over her face-warm and real.

She shook in his grip, her brows furrowed as she breathed heavily and quickly. Tom chuckled, deep and…dark, the smirk on his lips growing to a grin, he leaned closer to her, his nose brushing against hers-his skin pale in the eerie green gloom of the chamber.

“I am the heir of Slytherin, you were simply a pawn in my game.” He whispered, his thumb brushing against her cheek-almost lovingly. (y/n)’s eyes widened further somehow, and she let out a short gasp and Tom chuckled again, standing up, still holding her chin-not allowing her to back away from him.

“You-you…lied to me,” she whispered, tears, stained dark like ink, bubbling down her face. Tom gave her a slight pout, squishing her cheeks and shaking her head gently.

“I never lied, I simply…omitted some truths. Though I did not lie when I said I grew fond of you,” Tom cooed, forcing her to her feet and pulling her into his arms, his grip like an inescapable vice. “My plans for you changed long ago, and now-I’ll be keeping you, my dear.” Tom hummed, his hand tangling into her hair and tugging it to yank her head back.

“W-what?” (y/n) whispered, breathing heavily as she stared at Tom in horror. “You-you tricked me!” She nearly yelled, finding her voice and Tom only smirked, his arm around her waist impossibly tight.

“I did.” He hummed, gazing at her with dark hooded eyes, the brown of his eyes still so clearly visible even in the dark of the chamber of secrets. “And you were too easy to fool my dear-well have to work on that-but lucky for you, you’re entertaining.”

(y/n) swallowed harshly, opening her mouth to curse him out but he yanked her hair again and nearly squished her face into his, his eyes boring into hers. “You’re mine, (y/n),” he said, and she hated how good it sounded when Tom said her name. “And now we are bound by magic itself, your blood runs through my veins, your flesh is my own, your soul intertwined with mine,” A near psychotic grin grew on his lips, his eyes glinting with madness. “you’re. Mine.”

(y/n) shook in his grip, pushing at his chest but his forehead pushed against hers, their hair blending together. He smelled like metal and cologne. “Mine.” Tom whispered one last time, pressing his lips to hers.

-“Good” ending-

welp...there it issss~! hope you guys liked thaatttt, i had so much fun writing itttttt CC ending coming soon! since that was the 2nd most voted on for the poll, bad ending will be posted last :3

taglist!

@dracosslxt4eva @dream-your-own-way @slaggylemon

@slytherinbackintomyroom @starryhiraeth @larallott

@kayytt-2 @chimchoom @joyfulnightmare-hq

@theicypiscean @discofairysworld @simpforlh44

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle imagine #harry potter fanfiction #angst #liiitttle bit of fluff #lotta suspense #chamber of secrets #diary tom riddle #poessessiveness

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