#gryffindor has fucking EVERYONE

[lilithofpenandbook]

It makes me SO MAD when people say "there are kind Slytherins 🥺🥺🥺" and show a picture of fucking SLUGHORN

Slughorn? You mean "oh I didn't think a muggleborn would be this talented" Slughorn?

Slughorn as in the Slughorn who told Tom Riddle, a child KNOWN for being a lil twisted, about HORCRUXES just to look good?

Slughorn who didn't even notice a fucking cult being formed in his own house???

People like to blame Dumbledore for the cult, but tell me why it's his fault and not the HEAD. OF. HOUSE? Dumbledore isn't an all powerful all seeing wizard! He's a human who happens to be intelligent and skilled at magic but NOT All Seeing! How is he gonna know Tom Riddle's forming a cult when one) he wasn't even HEADMASTER and two) SLUGHORN was Tom's head of house and should have been aware of it happening UNDER. HIS. NOSE?

Like, even in Snape's time, where the fuck was Horace Slughorn? Where was he when the Mauraders were abusing his own student? Where was he when Lucius and the others were grooming the younger children? Where was he when all of this was happening?

Yes, McGonagall should have disciplined her students. But Slughorn's under a greater responsibility to protect his. Yes, headmaster Dumbledore should have probably intervened in the cult forming. But Slughorn's under a greater responsibility to intervene and inform the headmaster.

For fuck's sake, he wasn't even a good teacher! How did a 16 year old child manage to correct all the incorrect potions in the book and not the FUCKING. TEACHER?!

Horace Slughorn is NOT a "kind Slytherin".

He's the worst one.

[foursaints]

also i think harry potter is a more interesting character when you allow james to be extremely morally grey. imo this is more reflective of canon: he was a bully. he was blindly privileged. he harassed lily and treated it like a joke. and no matter what, he's still a man who wanted to marry "the brightest witch of her age" and saw absolutely nothing wrong with making her his jobless prospectless pregnant housewife at 19 years old! that's entitlement!

like in doing this, james technically carried on centuries of misogynist conservative pureblood tradition (marrying women off to be teenaged childbrides) without another thought. this is the environment in which he was raised. and he told himself it was ok and progressive because he, like, wasn't racist to her for being muggleborn and genuinely loved her as a person, or whatever. but that's the bare minimum! and it shows that he had no qualms with participating in pureblood culture & tradition when it suited him, because he literally materially did. a better james potter would never have been comfortable with letting her take on that role.

and the series themes are more resonant when harry's parents aren't both just, like, nebulously ontologically good. it's really poignant when harry spends his entire life being taught to idolize a man who was, in actuality, kind of a piece of shit— and grapples with this as he grows up, ultimately choosing to be different. the lesson is that both good (and cruelty) can come from anyone, regardless of birth circumstances or house placement, because goodness is a choice.

[ccccatttta]

red string of fate au where james is sick and tired™ of having to wait for destiny to bring his soulmate to him.

especially because in this universe the intensity of the red in your string shows if you are close to your other half (bright red when you are really close, but a maroon-ish color when far)

also, only you can see your own string, and the only part that's truly visible is what's tied on your pinky finger and a bit of the loose part, but it's just a couple inches of it that then turns invisible so it's not a bother.

so! james' string is bright bright red, like BRIGHT red. his soulmate is close but he has no way to find out who it is until "the right moment" which is when he and his soulmate get to hold hands for the first time.

james tried to hold hands with EVERYONE (who was willing and with a bright string as well, he's not daft) on the gryffindor tower, his quidditch team, and even some students from other houses who he has classes with.

results: nothing.

he gets so riled up and impatient, that one day he just snaps.

which means: he goes to the great hall for breakfast (because everyone is there), sits at the very beginning of the gryffindor table (to have everyone in his field of vision), grabs as much of his red string as he can (so, right before it becomes invisible) and. pulls. like. a. motherfucker.

two things happen in like two seconds.

one. regulus black, who was just about to leave the great hall, is yanked backwards and barely caught by barty before he hits the ground. his arm painfully stretched to james' direction.

two. before james can finish processing that what the fuck, regulus black is his soulmate and sirius is going to murder him. regulus manages to stand back up properly, stares at his pinky like it has personally offended him, and. also. pulls. like. a. motherfucker.

so james also gets yanked, only that, as he was still stunned from what just happened, he gets pulled out of his seat and dragged for maybe five steps towards regulus. arm painfully stretched towards him.

sirius, who has been watching everything, loses his shit.

[colouredbyd]

“Tell Me You Will Believe Me”

poly!marauders x fem!reader

summary: Your visions as a Seer used to be harmless—until they turned dark. Now, you find yourself caught between protecting the people you love and the terrifying truth only you can see.

wc: 3.6k

warnings: emotional abuse, graphic violence, dark themes, angst, betrayal, emotional withdrawal, mental health struggles (anxiety, depression), trauma, past trauma, death of a loved one, remus being a sweetheart, visions of future tragedy, so much hurt/comfort, LOTS of angst but then happy ending <3

authors note: i should be studying but this idea has been on my mind for weeks so i decided to just write it, enjoy the major angst with comfort. Im trying to test my skills, idk should i do part 2 or leave the ending like this?

part 2 masterlist

It started slowly. Almost imperceptibly.

At first, you skipped breakfast. Said you’d meet them later in class. You didn’t.

Then you stopped holding Sirius’s hand in the hallways. Your fingers used to seek his like a reflex—lacing together as naturally as breath. Until one day, his hand brushed yours and you flinched, pretending not to notice. He didn’t say anything, just shoved his hands into his pockets and looked away.

You stopped waiting for James after class too. Where once you leaned against the wall with a playful grin, teasing him about being late, now you left as soon as the bell rang. “Thought you’d already gone,” you’d lie, when he showed up confused and breathless, eyes searching the corridor for you.

You started skipping Hogsmeade weekends, claiming migraines, unfinished essays, fatigue. “I’ll just stay in and rest,” you’d say, brushing kisses onto their cheeks like goodbyes. “You go. Have fun my love.”

They noticed, of course. The boys weren’t blind.

But you were clever.

You still smiled when spoken to. Still said “love you” back. Still sat beside them at meals—even if you barely touched your food, barely looked up, barely breathed. You learned how to be present without being there. An echo. A ghost in your own skin.

The boys watched you like you were slipping underwater, helpless to stop it.

One evening, James sat beside you on the Gryffindor common room couch, his voice low and joking, “You’ve got this whole ‘mysterious tragic poet’ thing going on lately baby. Should we be worried?”

You forced a laugh. “I just haven’t been sleeping well.”

He smiled at you, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “We miss you.”

“I’m right here, Jamie,” you whispered.

-

The smell of fire, of burning flesh. Someone’s laugh twists into a scream that ends too fast.

-

But you weren’t. Not really.

“Take her and RUN, Sirius!” Remus roars, storming forward and grabbing him by the collar, shoving him back like the fire behind him hasn’t already started swallowing everything whole. “NOW!”

There’s blood in Remus’s mouth when he speaks, on his hands when he clutches Sirius, on his temple where something struck too hard, too fast. His lips are trembling but his eyes are terrifying—brighter than the firelight. They burn with something final.

“Moony—” Sirius chokes, voice hoarse with panic, tears already rising. “I can’t—”

“THERE’S NO TIME!” Remus howls, like it’s killing him to say it. “You don’t look back. You don’t come back. You take her and you fucking run, do you hear me? You keep her safe—Sirius, please—

-

-

“Hey hey hey pretty girl, look at me breathe for me come on.”

Sirius’s voice breaks through your fog. He’s kneeling in front of you now, his dark eyes wide with concern. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Dorca and Peter are there too, hovering close by, their faces twisted in worry. They’re all looking at you, their concern thick in the air.

“Are you alright?” Remus asks, voice soft, but there’s something underlying—something urgent in his tone. He crouches beside you, his eyes searching for an answer you don’t have.

You open your mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. You feel pathetic having a panic attack infront of everyone. The vision’s weight is still on your chest, pressing down on you, suffocating you. It feels like the whole world is closing in.

Sirius looks like he might reach for you, but he hesitates, as if afraid to touch you. The intensity of the moment hangs heavy in the air. “You’re scaring me princess.” he says quietly, eyes softening.

And for the first time in days, you feel something like a tremor in your chest—like the weight of their love, their worry, is finally sinking in.

“please just hold me.” you hiccup through sobs, your voice sounding too small, too fragile. But the words feel hollow in your mouth.

And they do, they hold you until you feel safe enough. 

It was Remus who saw through it first.

He’d catch you staring into the fire too long. Flinching when the wind howled against the castle windows. He noticed your fingers trembling when you thought no one was looking. The way your hands hovered just above the boys’ shoulders when they leaned in—like you wanted to touch them, like you were afraid to.

“Are you alright, dove?” he whispered one night, his hand brushing your arm.

You blinked, startled. You hadn’t even noticed him sit beside you.

“Fine,” you said too quickly, too brightly. “Just tired.”

He didn’t believe you. He never did.

But he let you go.

After that, everything became quieter, not the visions though. They got worse, more clear, and more horrifying. 

You stopped calling Sirius by his stupid nicknames. No more “Padfoot,” no more “Starboy.” Just “Sirius,” plain and clipped.

You forgot James’s birthday. The guilt nearly ate you alive, even as you watched him pretend not to be disappointed.

You stopped reading with Remus at night. Once, you’d fall asleep curled against his chest while he read aloud, voice soft and warm against your temple. Now, you claimed headaches. Stayed in your bed. Doors locked.

They started whispering when they thought you couldn’t hear.

“She doesn’t laugh anymore,” James murmured one night.

“I think she’s scared,” Sirius replied. “Of what, I don’t know.”

“Us?” Remus said quietly.

-

-

“They know. They know, James—run!” and then footsteps and a crash and nothing.

A golden ring in a pool of blood. The sound of Sirius sobbing into Remus’s shirt. “They said she was dead. They said—”

Remus’s breath on your neck. “Run.”

 Smoke curling under a door you don’t recognize.

The sound of chains dragging across stone. Always the chains.

Blood on parchment.

Your name scrawled across it again and again and again.

-

-

You pretended you were asleep, but your pillow was wet.

Until one night, Sirius finally snapped.

You were halfway through dinner in the Great Hall when he slammed his goblet down and growled, “Alright, what the hell’s going on with you?”

You blinked, startled.

“You don’t look at us anymore,” he hissed. “You don’t touch us. You barely speak. If you want to leave, just say so, but stop pretending everything’s fine.”

“I don’t want to leave,” you said, voice breaking.

“You already have.”

And when you looked at him—really looked—you saw it: the shadow of his future, the one you’d dreamed a hundred times. Screaming behind bars. Eyes hollow.

You turned away. “Please. Just let it go.”

And he did. Because even angry, Sirius would always choose you. Always love you, even when it tore him apart.

Then weeks turned into a month.

Then a month turned into two. 

And you kept fading—slowly, quietly, like death by a thousand unspoken words.

Until Remus couldn’t take it anymore.

Until that night in the library when he found you curled into yourself like a broken star, and you shattered in his arms and told him everything.

You were in the library at nearly midnight—eyes hollow, curled in the farthest back corner like you were trying to vanish into the stone.

You didn’t hear Remus at first.

But suddenly, he was there—standing in front of you, pale and shaking, with something desperate in his eyes.

“You’re done hiding.”

His voice trembled. You looked up, startled.

“I tried to give you space,” he said quietly. “I tried to trust you. Its been two months and 4 days (Y/n). I can’t anymore. You’re fading right in front of me. And I don’t care how much you lie and pretend you’re okay—you’re not.”

You stood too fast, the chair scraping behind you. “Please, just let it go rem.”

“No, dammit!” he snapped. “You shut us out. You stopped letting us love you. You look at James like you’re already mourning him. You look at Sirius like he’s glass. And you haven’t looked at me like anything in weeks.”

Your hands were shaking. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“I don’t want protection, I want you!” he shouted.

The silence that followed was deafening.

His eyes were glistening. “Tell me what’s happening. Even if it hurts. Even if it ruins everything. Please.”

You stared at him, throat tightening, vision blurring. 

Remus’s hands trembled as they gently cupped your face, his eyes searching yours for answers. The weight of everything was pressing down on him now, and he could feel the tension in your body, the way you were holding yourself back.

“Please, just tell me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, pleading. “I need to know, I need to understand what’s happening to you.”

You closed your eyes, tears brimming, throat tight with the truth you couldn’t bear to say. You’d been holding it in for so long, the fear, the guilt. It was all too much.

“Tell me you will believe me,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out. “Please. Tell me you will believe me.”

Remus’s breath hitched at your words, his grip on your face tightening slightly as if to pull you closer to him, as if to anchor himself to you. His heart was racing now, but his voice was steady. “I will,” he promised, his voice raw with desperation. “I believe you. I always will.”

You sank to the floor, legs giving out, and he followed, arms catching you before you could crumble completely. And then, for the first time in weeks, you told someone the truth.

“I’ve been having visions.”

He froze, but didn’t speak.

The words hung in the air between you like a spell. You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t face his eyes yet. The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating, but then Remus exhaled like he had been holding his breath too, his hands moving to hold yours tightly.

“What do you mean? Visions?” His voice was filled with concern, but there was something else there—something dark, like he already knew this wasn’t just a simple problem. This wasn’t something you could brush off with a shrug and a laugh.

You pulled your hands away, holding them against your chest, as if protecting yourself from the storm you knew was about to break.

“It’s like—I see things. Fragments. Pieces. But they’re never in order, Remus.” Your voice broke, and you cursed yourself for sounding so weak, for not being able to keep it together just a little longer. “Sometimes, I’m in them. Sometimes, I’m not. But it’s always horrible. Always the same. It’s—it’s the end, Remus. The end of all of us.”

Remus’s eyes never left you. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t say a word, but his face twisted with confusion and concern, his brow furrowed like he was trying to make sense of the puzzle you were handing him.

“The night we’re all going to die,” you continued, your throat raw. “I’ve seen it, over and over again. I—I see James… He’s screaming. I see Sirius… He’s… he’s not himself. And you’re—” You stopped yourself, unable to finish the sentence, the emotion too raw to put into words. “You’re not there. You’re gone, Remus. And it’s my fault.”

Remus’s face went pale as he absorbed what you were saying, his jaw tightening with the weight of your words. He reached out, his fingers grazing your arm, but you jerked back, your heart racing as you continued, desperate to say it all before it consumed you.

“I’m not always there, but when I am… It’s like I’m not even alive. I watch from some place far away. Sometimes, I see myself dead.” You let out a shaky breath, trying to hold it together. “I see James and Sirius, and I—God, I can’t breathe. I just… I can’t fix it, Remus. I can’t stop it. There’s a traitor, someone in our circle, someone close, and they’re going to betray us. James dies, Sirius gets blamed. They throw him in Azkaban… And I—I get taken, or worse.”

Remus’s hand reached out, but you flinched away, guilt and fear flooding your chest. You couldn’t look at him anymore. You couldn’t look at anyone, not with this knowledge hanging over you.

“I’ve been pushing you all away,” you whispered. “I’m scared, Remus. I’m terrified. I’ve been trying to protect you, to protect all of you. But I can’t stop what’s coming. I can’t stop it. And it’s eating me alive. I’m watching all of us die and I can’t do anything about it.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you didn’t dare let them fall. You were already too weak. Too broken. You couldn’t bear to show him any more of your fragility.

“Please, Remus, you have to promise me—promise me you won’t tell them.” Your voice was barely a whisper now, a plea. “Not yet. Not until we know what to do. I don’t know how to stop it, but I have to try. I have to do something, and I can’t do it alone.”

His hand was trembling as he cupped your face, lifting it so that you had no choice but to meet his eyes. His gaze was filled with so much pain, but also an understanding that shattered you further.

“Don’t ever think you’re alone in this, dove,” he whispered. “I’m with you. Always. We’ll find a way to stop it.”

You collapsed into his arms then, the sobs you’d been holding in finally breaking free. He held you tight, letting you cry it all out, his hand rubbing your back in comforting circles.

When the tears subsided, he whispered into your head, “ I believe you, dove.”

And in that moment, you finally allowed yourself to believe it too—believe that together, you might still have a chance to rewrite the ending.

The days that followed were desperate, and the sense of dread hung thick in the air.

The Marauders—Sirius, James, and Remus—refused to leave your side. Remus spent hours with you, pushing you to strengthen your Occlumency, your focus unwavering as he guided you through each mental block. His presence was a steady reassurance, though the unspoken tension between you both never quite lifted. The weight of what you’d seen in that vision was suffocating, and you had to push yourself to stay strong for them. For him.

Every moment, every glance you exchanged with your boyfriends felt charged with the weight of a looming secret. You knew things were changing, but you couldn’t tell them yet. Not until you knew the truth.

And so, you turned to your studies, hoping that if you immersed yourself in magic, in spells that might give you a fighting chance, the gnawing fear would subside.

It was a normal evening. The fire crackled merrily in the common room, casting a warm, golden glow over the four of you. Sirius sprawled out on the couch, teasing James as he flicked through a Quidditch magazine, his signature grin pulling at the corners of his lips. James was laughing, leaning over to nudge Sirius, while you and Remus sat across from them, trying to hold onto a semblance of normalcy.

For a fleeting moment, everything felt right. Remus caught your eye from across the room, and his lips curved into a small, reassuring smile. You returned it, but deep inside, the unease never fully disappeared.

“So, how’s the study session going baby?” Sirius asked, turning his head lazily toward you.

“It’s… fine siri.” you replied, your voice betraying none of the storm inside you. “Just trying to get through all this Occlumency nonsense.”

Remus laughed softly, his gaze never straying from you. “You’re doing great. You’re stronger than you think.”

James grinned. “You’re both scary smart,” he said with a wink. “I’ve been trying to catch up, but it’s been a slow process.”

Sirius chuckled, his usual mischievous energy making it feel like everything was just as it should be.

But then, in the blink of an eye, the room seemed to shift.

The dizziness hit first, so sudden you barely had time to brace yourself. Your vision blurred, and a rush of cold air washed over you. You pressed a hand to your temple, trying to steady yourself, but it was no use.

It wasn’t just dizziness. It was like the world itself was slipping away, replaced by something darker. A vision.

-

-

The world is suffocating—darkness swallowing everything.

The air is thick with screams—raw, guttural, pleading.

James’s glasses fall, shattered into pools of red.

The earth is drenched, soaked with fear, with blood, with everything you never wanted to know.

“Run!” Sirius’s voice cracks as he yanks you forward

You hear Remus, pleading, begging—

“Please, don’t look back. Just go!”

The air is heavy with the crack of spells, the sickening sound of bones breaking.

Sirius’s grip is all you have left to hold on to. You feel the weight of everything pressing down on you, but his voice is a lifeline.

“We need to go NOW.” You don’t look back, but you hear it. That scream.

James.

It’s not just a scream. It’s the sound of everything breaking. The sound of life ending.

It rips through you, through all of you, tearing something deep inside that you can’t even name.

Remus’s eyes lock with yours for a brief second, and in them, you see everything: fear, love, regret. “Don’t look back,” Remus’s voice is barely a whisper, 

The screams keep coming, one after the other. A storm of death and pain. Then, the worst sound of all.

Remus.

You hear him cry out—no, not cry out—begging. His voice breaking, splintering as if his very soul is being torn apart.

The sound cuts through the air like a knife, a desperate plea for mercy that doesn’t come.

The trees are closing in, but you can’t outrun the screams. You can’t outrun what’s happening.

Sirius stumbles, dragging you with him, but you both know it’s too late.

The ground is shaking now, trembling with the weight of death.

Something moves in the distance. Something that’s always been there, lurking, watching.

It’s him.

You hear the soft whisper of a name in your mind, but you don’t believe it.

The world stops.

The truth crashes through you, breaking you wide open.

The traitor.

The one you trusted.

The one who sold them out.

Everything you thought you knew is shattered.

-

-

Gasping for air, chest heaving, you felt the pressure of hands on your shoulders, holding you steady.

“Hey—hey, stay with me. You’re okay.”

It was Remus. His voice was strained with worry. But it didn’t make sense. None of it did.

The world was still spinning, and the faces around you were all blurry—except for one. The one that you couldn’t pull your eyes away from.

Peter was standing by the door. His eyes were unreadable.

And in that moment, you knew.

“Peter.”

The word was barely a whisper, but it hit the room like thunder.

Remus’s grip tightened, his voice full of panic. “What are you saying? What do you mean?”

But you couldn’t answer. Your mind was reeling from the truth. The betrayal that had been right in front of you all along.

It was Peter.

[robynlilyblack]

But you’re over here

Fred Weasley x fem! shy! Potter! Reader

Summary: During the final game of the season, a certain redhead couldn’t care less about the trophy

Warnings/tags: swearing, friends to lovers, first kiss, getting together, mutual pining, Hufflepuff reader, potter reader, James being a good dad, Cedric being the best wing and hype man, Jess, Timothy and Joey OCs, marauders being parents

A/n: 4.4k words, ngl the alchemy plays in my head during this kiss scene, apologies for any mistakes I'm a bit ill right now, as always reader can be the bio or adopted older daughter of James and Lily, based on this and this requests ♡

Navigation | Fred Weasley Masterlist

“Oh boy, oh boy!” James claps his hands, rubbing them together in excitement as he, Lily, Remus, and Sirius reach the top of the stands 

Lily giggles at her husband's enthusiasm, following him to the front row, while Remus and Sirius brace themselves at the top, catching their breaths after a quite frankly atrocious number of stairs

Today was the big game, not only was it the old rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor, but it was the final, and the first year Harry was serving as captain after Oliver passed the torch to him two years ago. It was safe to say as fun as the Triwizard tournament was the previous year, quidditch was still the marauders and co’s favourite pastime. Hell, the whole school was buzzing

“Were they always that high?” Sirius whispers, rubbing his chest “Fuck me” he breathes heavily

“I think we’re just old now my love” Remus chuckles, after all these years he still can’t help but wind up his husband just a little bit

Sirius makes a face “Fuck you! I’m not old…you’re old!” he childishly argues, wearing a grumpy pout that twitches everyone once and again, revealing the smile beneath

“And when is your birthday?” 

Sirius’ mouth opens to reply but alas the man has nothing and is caught looking like a fish, though he’s a very cute fish in Remus’ mind

“We might be old…but you’re still as pretty as you were last time we were up here” Remus compliments, leaning down to peck Sirius’ tinting cheeks “Pretty boy” he whispers one last blow before pushing off the beam and joining his friends leaving Sirius flustered 

“Pads? You comin?” James calls out, head shooting over “Ohhhh” James barks a knowing laugh, whispering something to Remus and patting his back as he sits down

Sirius can’t help but let out a small smile as they turn away “He thinks I’m pretty” he mutters all giddy to himself before joining his friends, taking a seat between Remus and James, with Lily on James’ other side

“See! I told you we were smart coming early, it’s already beginning to fill up” Lily points out, smiling to herself as she shrugs off her jacket, grabbing the others as well, before laying them on the seats behind them to save room for when the McKinnon’s made their fashionably late appearance

James smiles, hand finding the top of Lily's head “That we were, hun” he agrees, patting her head and soaking up her proud little smile as she smooths out the rest of the coats

“Who are you looking for?” Remus asks, pulling James’ attention back to find Sirius squinting off into the distance

“Our goddaughter, I haven’t seen her in ages” Sirius pouts, squinting harder

“You saw her at Easter break” James chuckles 

“Oh yeah” Sirius nods, remembering “Still, I miss her” he confesses, warming the men's hearts

Sirius and Remus decided against children, not that they didn’t want them per se, more they couldn’t confirm the child's safety with Remus’ furry little problem. As such, they filled that hole with you and Harry. Sirius took an extra shine to you though, maybe it was your shy yet cheeky nature that reminded him of Remus, or maybe it’s the little bit of himself he saw in you, watching you get sorted into Hufflepuff when everyone else in your big, wonderfully weird family was Gryffindor. Whatever it was, though today was Harry’s day, he still had to make sure you were alright

“Do you want your glasses?” Remus offers, sighing as he watches his husbands sorry display and reaches for his bag

Sirius swats his hand away “I don’t need glasses moony, I’m fine. It’s just the wind, it’s blowing stuff in my eyes” he gestures around his face, scrunching his nose before attempting to subtly squint again

Remus’ eyes meet James’, shaking his head as he mouths ‘why can’t he admit defeat?’

James smirks, shrugging as he turns away, now interested in where you were, as is Lily after overhearing the debacle. The four searched for you as the student body make their way to the stands. Glancing around Remus’ spots a wild Weasley, smiling as he watches Ron attempt to hold back his blushes as Hermione fixes the red paint on his cheeks. Lily spots Neville, Ginny and Luna in another stand wearing their handmade lion mains. Sirius spots well…nothing, but your father on the other hand is the one to finally find you. 

He watches as you enter the stand diagonal to them with Cedric, Jess and two other boys he doesn’t quite recognise but based on their green scarfs must be Timothy and Joey, which would be two out of the four very few Slytherins in this world he accepted were good, the others being his best friends’ brother and the one and only Dorcas Meadows

“Found her” he points with joy “There she is, ain’t our little fawn beautiful” he shines, causing all their eyes to fall on you as you all worm your way to the front of your own stand

“It’s funny seeing them in red and gold” Remus notes, an amused look as he observes yours, Cedric, and Jess’s Gryffindor scarves, most likely stolen from your brother and his friends…or perhaps secretly gifted from one particular Weasley

Lily nods, but her head tilts to the side as your head taps the taller of the other boy's shoulders “They seem close, which one is he again, Tim or Joe?” she ponders trying to remember

“Tim, she said he was tall in the letters” James confirms “They aren’t together” he says with confidence

“And how would you know that Captain Oblivious?” Remus’ laughs, eyeing his friend but then his gaze drifts to peak at his husband, who's been unusually quiet, realising he’s still very much struggling to see you

Remus slowly collects the glasses from his bag again and holds them up in offering

“Dammit” Sirius sighs accepting the truth and putting them on, looking grumpy until his eyes widen, like he’s seeing a brand-new world

“Better love?” Remus teases while pointing you out again

“Shut up moo…aww there she is, beautiful as ever” he adjusts them smiling “Wait…whoa” he looks at James doing a double take as everything is now in high definition “You’ve aged so well” he notes

James’ smirks “Why thank you, I steal Lily’s muggles products” he admits unapologetically, not that it’s much of a surprise to the girl next to him who just rolls her eyes, accepting the fact she now buys two of every product just for him

“It’s the one with lighter hair, not Cedric, the taller one” Remus points out to Sirius

“Oh…” Sirius eyes the boy, judging “...nah”

“What do you mean nah?” everyone jumps a little at first turning around to see Marlene, Dorcas and the cutest little lion there had ever been joining them “Holy shi… sugar those specks are something” Marlene laughs, catching herself before glancing at her wife, mouthing an apology while their daughter looks up at them confused

“Suu’gar” the little cub repeats before pointing at Sirius “Specky!” she says excitedly “Unkie Jams t‘win” she claps, pointing between James and Sirius before jumping and clapping again all happy with herself

Sirius’ quickly pulls the glasses off, cheeks heating while the others struggle to hold in their giggles 

“I don’t need them” he looks straight at Marlene, trying his best to be convincing

She just gives him a ‘really’ look in return before smiling softly 

Sirius half chuckles, half sighs as he admits defeat, flashing the women a genuine smile “It’s good to see you Marls, you too Dorca darlin” he then looks down at little Lacy “Hello little cub” he coos 

“Rwah!” Lacy holds up her hands in a claw motion, doing her best lion impression 

It was well known the Marauders had one brain cell between them, but when that cell fired it was magical, all including her mothers and godmother pretended she was the most fearsome thing they’d ever beheld, even a couple other parents who had taken seats little ways down joined in. After some pleas and chocolate offered to calm the beast, the group settled in again, catching up as they waited for the game to start.

You rocked on your feet, eyes continually flicking to the players entrance in anticipation

“You good sunshine?” you feel a soft pat to the top of your head, looking up you’re greeted with Timothy's soft smile, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he checked in, worried the ruckus and busyness of the stand was a bit overwhelming for you

You gently tap your head into his shoulder, nodding “I’m good…just excited” you confess with warm cheeks as your nose is flooded with the scent of your scarf again

“Ahhhh” he elongates, giving you and then the scarf a look “Y/n and Freddie sitting in a tree” he whisper sings

Your eyes widen before you attempt a scowl that looks more like a puppy pouting “Shut up” you chide, fixing the scarf a little before looking away, hoping Cedric, Jess and Joey were having a more in depth conversion but instead you find them grinning “Sugar” you press your lips into a downturned smile

They all looked at each other before singing in unison 

“K…i…s…s…i…n…g!” 

Despite your cheeks positively flaming around the second ‘s’, you can help but break into a smile. Your friends knew about your little crush on the Weasley boy from afar. Despite your brother’s closeness with the family you didn’t have such ties, you adored Ginny on the few occasions she had visited, along with Ron and Hermione, but as for the rest of the clan your paths rarely crossed. You were meant to spend the summer with them as your families decided to holiday together, but when Cedric won the Triwizard tournament that changed, and instead, he took you and your friends traveling with the prize money 

Yours paths finally crossed at the beginning of the school year, when Sprout created a seating pattern allowing everyone to get familiar with their randomised Herbology partner before the end of year assignment. You were nervous at first, as you were sure the professor was when she pulled out your names. Putting the quietest person in Hogwarts with the loudest person seemed like it would either be the worst pairing she had ever seen or the most genius 

To her good fortune…and ego, it was the latter. It was surprising to see the king of mischief actually try with his assignments, but most chalked it up to the fact that while you were quiet, you were well-loved by your year, you held no prejudices, helped people with their assignments when the asked you, and was just in general sweet to everyone, to the point even the meanest Slytherins were a little soft on you. Therefore, most assumed Fred couldn’t bear to let you down either, and while that was true at first, a second reason soon bloomed for the boy

It bloomed for you as well, you slowly opened up to him each class, topics drifting to something deeper, and by the time Christmas rolled around you both were close friends. So close in fact you began inviting him to your friend’s secret hideaway by black lake, at first to study, but then to hang out both with and without your other friends. It was funny at first, with Cedric and Jess being rivals in quidditch and Timothy and Joey's Slytherin status, but Fred warmed to them, gaining their trust and, not that they told either of you, their blessing 

“I hate you all” you pout, falling into Cedric’s side hug as you shake your head

“Nah” Timothy joins from the other side

“You love us” Jess chimes in, beaming at you

“Not as much as she loves him though” Joey adds cheekily, nodding towards the pitch, it seems none of you had noticed the crowds stir for the players appearances during your teasing session

Cedric and Timothy quickly retract their grasp, smiling at one another as you lunge adorably forward to see. Your friends soon join you, all cheering, while you find Fred in the small mass of people, admiring him as he laughs with the others. After a few moments, the team is finished talking, beginning to take flight and get into position. Once there, you watch as Fred’s eyes begin to scan the crowd, heart thumping as his gaze slowly draws closer, skipping a beat when they fall on you, and damn near stopping as he doubles back, face lifting 

You see, a few weeks ago you had met Fred to check over your final herbology assignment, which meant a late-night picnic waiting to see if your flower would bloom under the full moon. While chatting, the topic of today's game came up. Of course, now that Hufflepuff were out for the count, he teased you with who you would be supporting, his teasing backfired however when, without missing a beat, said you would be supporting whatever team he was playing in. 

After his slight fluster, which, to this day is one of your proudest achievements, conversation returned to normal, you figured he’s forgotten about it until a first year found you this morning holding a small bundle of Gryffindor scarves, one of which had a red ribbon around it with a note for you

You bring your hands up, hugging the scarf as your eyes meet, causing the biggest smile to take over his face. It was times like this you truly believed your crush was requited, and little did you know a certain redhead was thinking the same thing

“Be brave and go for it” Cedric whispers some encouragement 

He’s right, you think, Now or never

As you mouth him ‘Good luck’, you add a little extra to it, blowing him a kiss

His eyes widen in a pleasant shock, melting into a mix of joy and pride as he pretends to catch it, winking at you before kissing his balled up fist before returning his gaze to the field just before the starting whistle blows

“Way to go gal” Jess cheers, reaching over to give your arm a soft squeeze

“Aww the grew up so fast don’t they” Timothy wipes an imaginary tear from his eye while Cedric and Jess both match his energy, taking out handkerchiefs and pretending to be forlorn mothers, with Joey doing the same but with an imaginary tissue

You giggle at them, and while you would usually try to come up with some sort of witty answer, you instead break into a smile “He likes me” you say simply, swaying side to side

“If he didn’t, he’d be an idiot love” Cedric gives you a side hug while the rest of your friends’ smile, happy for you “Now let’s what your man kick snake butt”

“Hey-” Joey and Tim begin to object together but then shrug 

“Oh, who are we kiddin” Timothy laughs, taking off his green scarf and pulling out a red and gold one as does Joey “Pusey’s an arsehole and I want a chance to be a bridesman at your wedding someday”

“Bridesman?” you giggle, heartwarming at the idea of you and Fred getting married someday

“Yip, Ceds already called man of honour” 

The match was a whirlwind of emotion, the kind of game that left everyone on the edge of their seats. Gryffindor and Slytherin were neck and neck at every turn, every goal answered by another, and it was clear to everyone that this match would come down who would catch the snitch first

“Holy shit, this is intense!” James exclaims, practically bouncing in his seat “Merlin, how the hell did you guys watch me and Marls do this back in the day?”

“Jamie…language!” Lily scolds with a giggle, lips quirking up in amusement as she gives Dorcas a please forgive us look

“Oh, don’t worry, Lacey can’t hear a thing thanks to these” Dorcas it waves off, gesturing to Lacey’s adorable, enchanted earmuffs “Watch this” she says leaning over the little girl perched on her lap “You want some ice cream, bubs? What about a unicorn?” 

Lacey doesn’t react at all, instead she stays focused on mimicking her other mothers’ gestures and waves towards the pitch

“Those are…” Lily starts but is promptly cut off 

“What the hell was that!” Marlene huffs, throwing up her hands as the crowds roar once more, a mix of cheers and groans as the Slytherins risky manoeuvre pays off leading to another goal “Fucking Pusey again!”

“Did you get the earmuffs for the crowd or for Marls?” Remus whispers to Dorcas, who struggles to hold back a smile

“Oi! Gingers! Stay in formation! Godric, what are you doing?!” Marlene shouts again, shaking her head as Fred and George narrowly avoid colliding whilst going for the same bludger

“No comment” Dorcas replies with a grin before planting a kiss on Lacey’s cheek

The match grows increasingly heated after Harry lets the snitch slip through his grasp, igniting a fire under Slytherins asses causing their play to get even more aggressive

“This game is insane!” Cedric grips the railing so tightly his knuckles turn white

“Come on, Freddie!” you yell, unable to stop yourself as he whizzes by

You watch him turn ever so slightly, catching your voice over the roar before he dives back into the action, pulling off a spectacular move that has more than one person flushing

“Offt…your man’s a beast” Timothy mutters as Fred swoops in to deflect a bludger, shirt riding up a little as he does “What? I can admire” his cheeks tint as he sees all of your raised eyebrows

“Don’t worry” you say with a laugh, “He’ll never admit it, but he has a little guy crush on you too”

“Really?” 

“Really” you confirm, giggling 

“Did you see that?!” Sirius exclaims, pointing towards Fred after he executes a spectacular mid-air spin to block the Bludger aimed at Angelina “Can’t deny the boys got style!”

“Sure does” James agrees but then his expression sinks to a smug one as he adjusts his glasses “Almost as cool as some of the moves we pulled off ay Marls?” he tries to get her attention but is gifted a passive ‘uh huh’ instead

“Oh, please” Remus argues, chuckling “Are we forgetting in our final year when you tried to do a spin like that and your glasses came flying clean off?”

“What?!” Lily, Sirius, and Dorcas all turned to him in unison

“Moony!” James protests before his face slowly sinks as if awaiting his impending doom

“Wait…” Marlene turns slowly, looking menacingly down at James “You’re telling me. I almost lost my final match as captain because of your speckyless ass?”

James hesitates, his ears turning near crimson as he sheepishly scratches the back of his neck “…no comment”

With one final push, the final whistle blows, and the crowd erupts into cheers. You and your friends join in, your eyes look over towards Fred, who’s the first to get to Harry, pulling him into the biggest bear hug. The sight makes your heart warm, but your admiration is cut short as your friends practically pick you up, ushering you to move 

“What’s happening” you ask confused

“Come on, we gotta get down their sunshine” Timothy insists, shooing you along with Cedric, Jess and Joey “You’ve got a ginger to congratulate”

Over on the other stands your family celebrates. Everyone’s on their feet, except Lacey who is now glued to Marlene’s hip as they cheer 

“Yesssss!” James roars, pulling Lily into a celebratory hug…and subsequent snog 

“That’s my godson!” Sirius bellows, fist pumping the air before looking to hug James then realises “Oh…well if that’s what we’re doing, come here moons!” he hithers towards Remus, arms outstretched 

Remus laughs softly before indulging his husband, pulling him in for a kiss before dramatically dipping him

Meanwhile Marlene and little Lacey remain oblivious to the romance in the air, as she was too busy yelling so hard her voice will be lost come tomorrow “THAT’S MY LIONS!”

Dorcas just chuckles at the scene, pulling out Lilys camera and snapping a shot of them all (A/n: art of this bit in the future?)

As their celebrations calm down, they notice the teams beginning to land and everyone else begin to make their way down to join them

“This takes me back” Remus lets out a small laugh watching the red and gold scarfs fly around

Nostalgia fills the air as the others join him, gazing down

“Man…that used to be us” James remarks, letting out a breathy laugh before glancing over at Marlene

She nods, a happy yet bittersweet smile on her face “Yeah…good times” she reminisces before looking down at Lacey “Times are still pretty good…maybe better” she confesses watching her little cub cheer 

Dorcas joins her side, arm wrapping around both Marlene and Lacy as their foreheads meet

“I think we should give them their moment” Lily suggests “We have time to embarrass them later” she giggles

The group hums in agreement. As their stand empties, they begin pointing out things only they are privy to from their vantage point. Like Nevilles and Lunas intertwined hands as they weave through the crowd with Ginny, Lee sprinting to hug George, the Slytherin team sulks, or even Snape begrudgingly handing a couple of gallons to McGonagall. None of them, however, have managed to spot you or your friends yet. 

“I hope y/ns alright in the crowds” James says softly next to Lily

“As long as she’s with her friends I have no doubt shell be alright” she hums, giving your fathers arm a squeeze 

“Oh, there she is…” Sirius points you out before chuckling to himself “…maybe being your twin ain’t so bad” he jokes, wiggling his glasses 

James laughs, wrapping an arm around Sirius as everyone turns their attention back towards you 

Down on the pitch, it’s a flurry of red and gold, so you hold back at the edge where it was quieter, encouraging your friends to head into the chaos and enjoy it. Jess, Joey and Timothy promise to be right back, while Cedric spots Cho in the crowd little ways from yourself and joins her, being careful not to drift too far from you

You beam as you take a couple of steps back, watching Harry get lifted up by Ron and Neville. Much like your parents and family above, you want Harry and Fred to have their moment in the spotlight. There would be more than enough time to talk to them after

Unbeknownst to you, one of that duo was already looking for you. Fred’s eyes scan the chaos for your figure, but finds a familiar blonde in the crowd first, and he smiles watching him kiss Cho’s cheek. Cedric feels the eyes on them, looking up and noticing Fred’s searching expression. He smiles, giving a knowing nod towards you, as does Cho who’s clearly been filled in on the situation. 

Fred’s eyes follow the direction and there you are, standing apart from the rest, your gaze locked on Harry. Taking a deep breath, he hypes himself up, realising in that moment you aren’t just wearing his scarf, but the jumper he gave you to keep warm a few weeks ago as well. That along with the kiss you blew him earlier, are all the signs he needed to finally make a move

“Oi, Freddie” George calls as he moves away from the rest of the team “Where ya going?” George tries again but to no avail, Fred’s already gone, pushing through the crowd, using his broom to help manage the masses

As he breaks free, you do a double take, and he finds himself smiling as your confused expression melts into hope and joy

“You’re supposed to be over there” you tell him, taking a few steps forward as he closes the gap

“But you’re over here” he replies simply before leaning closer, eyes searching yours for permission 

You bite your lip, giving him a nod, to which his own smile grows and his broom is abandoned as his larger hands come up to cradle your cheeks guiding them up towards his lips as they crash into your own. You clutch the front of his sweater, pulling him closer but Fred being the showman he is had other ideas. His hands drop down, snaking around your hips before he dips you back. You squeal at first, then laugh softly with him before your lips reconnect. After that the rest of the world fades away. The cheers and buzz around you becoming a distant hum, neither of you reacting to your friends’ cheers nor the flash of Jess’ camera 

Your friends aren’t the only spectators of course…

“Wait…” Marlene points towards you and Fred “…is he about to…oh!” her mouth drops open, gently covering Lacey’s eyes while Dorcas smiles in a happy shock beside her 

Remus, Sirius, Lily are next to react, eyes widening, before breaking into smiles. Remus and Sirius take a moment longer, clearly doing the ‘does he deserve her’ math in their heads first

“That’s my girl” Lilys hands come up to face, overjoyed, she had an inkling you were a little love struck from your letters, she just didn’t know with who until now

“He’s alright” Sirius begrudgingly admits while Remus nods in agreement

Their smiles and shock soon melt into anticipation as they all slowly turn towards James, who had been a bit too quiet considering the situation. But when they see him, he is…beaming?

Turns out Lily wasn’t the only one with an incline, in fact, James being the girl dad he was, has known about every crush you’ve ever had, your one on Fred being no different. Safe to say, he was ecstatic

“Yes!” he cheers “Oh the dips a nice touch, very classy” he nods in approval before looking over at the others “What?” he takes in their shocked faces

“Prongs?” Remus eyes him “You realise that’s y/n, right?” he feels the need to check

“Yeah” James shrugs before his mouth makes an ‘oh’ shape, his reply sending them into fits of laughter “I’m supposed to be mad right now, aren’t I?”

Thank you for reading ♡

[brokenmenswhore]

I hate to do asks but like just imagine this! At hogwarts there is a group that’s kinda like a polyamorous relationship but just for s*x and it’s like slytherin and gryffindor students and they decided they wanted someone from like a year younger so they start to slowly talk to innocent reader to get them comfortable around them before starting to get touchy with her (maybe she is a hufflepuff? That’s my house)

i’m a hufflepuff too 🫶🏻 thanks for feeling comfy enough to send me this ask if you don’t usually like doing that!

a proposition | poly!marauders

#1

pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader (james, remus, and sirius, featuring alecto, dorcas, evan, lily, and mary)

warnings: none!

a/n: i don’t even realize my sirius favoritism until i proofread a poly story and i’m like damn okay then WHORE

a proposition: masterlist

────── ☾ ──────

Everyone knew about it.

Even though it wasn’t spoken of in the presence of the students not involved, everyone knew about it.

It wasn’t exactly a polyamorous relationship, because a relationship implies more than just physicality, which is what it was. It was purely for sex.

It was started, of course, by Sirius Black. He had a casanova reputation, and after a while, he started looking to the same group of girls when he was in the mood. His best friend, Remus, unknowingly slept with quite a few of the same girls, and a lot of those girls slept with each other.

James didn’t have as much sex as his two best friends, but he quickly became involved. After a while, a group was established.

All of the students involved knew one another well, and were all somewhat close friends that had not romantic desires toward one another, but unashamed lust. It was a sex positive group, and was essentially just a group of students who fucked each other whenever.

Despite the unofficial, non-relationship standing, they all agreed to only have sex with each other. If they wanted to add someone into the group, they all had to agree to it. So, in a way, it was a relationship, but, in a way, it wasn’t. There wasn’t really a label on what it was, but it worked for them.

Everyone in the group was in the same year at Hogwarts, so they all related to each other well.

However, a few of them began to crave something new- someone not so in line with everyone.

Everyone sat in the Gryffindor common room at an hour late enough that most others were asleep. James sat on the floor, his back resting between Dorcas’s legs as she played with his hair, tying small braids from the curly strands.

“We wanna bring something up,” James said.

“We’re doing we’s now?” Sirius scolded, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“I just mean, there’s something Dorcas and I talked about, and now I’m talking about it with all of you,” James clarified.

“Fair enough, what’s up?” Mary asked.

“I’m wondering how everyone here would feel about inviting someone new into the group.”

Everyone looked around the room at one another, attempting to gage the energy of everyone else before speaking their own opinions.

“I vote we should bring in someone younger,” Evan added.

“Younger like what? Like wouldn’t that be weird?” Remus asked.

“No, idiot, like a year under us,” Evan retorted.

“Where the fuck are we gonna find someone a year younger than us who would be down to do this?” Mary questioned.

Sirius flicked a spark off of his cigarette, clearing his throat and sitting forward a bit. “I have someone in mind.”

“Has everyone been trying to scope out prospects? Am I the only one who hasn’t thought about inviting in anyone new?” Alecto asked.

There was another shared look, and everyone shrugged. They had all thought about a change.

“Who’d you have in mind, Sirius?” Dorcas brought the attention back to his statement.

“There’s this hufflepuff a year below us, seems super innocent though,” Sirius said, taking a quick hit of smoke, “blushes every time I look at her.”

“Is she hot?” Remus asked.

“No, I’m proposing we all fuck her because she’s not hot,” Sirius snapped, his voice laced with evident sarcasm.

Sirius told them your name, and a few of them already knew who you were.

“She’s super cute!” Dorcas exclaimed, “I’m super down for that. Anyone disagree?”

Everybody was on board with the idea.

────── ☾ ──────

“Go on, then.”

James turned to Sirius and Remus, saying, “why does it have to be me? You go do it.”

“Fine,” Sirius replied, “Remus, go talk to her.”

Remus threw his hands up. “What happened to being set on making James do it?”

Sirius shrugged his shoulders. “She’s not gonna be sitting at that table forever. You nervous or somethin’?”

“No,” Remus quickly replied, “this is just, I don’t know, weird.”

“How’s it weird?”

“Because I’m about to go interrupt the poor girl in order to talk to her with the intention of later asking her to fuck me and all my friends,” Remus explained, “I don’t know, it’s just a weird thing to do.”

“Fuckin’ hell, I can’t stand you two,” Sirius said, flicking a spark off of his cigarette and walking over to you. He sat down across the table from you, watching you intently as you scribbled notes off a textbook.

You didn’t look up because you didn’t even consider that he was sitting near you for a reason.

“Hey.”

You looked up, and Sirius was looking directly at you. The familiar tint of red crept into your cheeks. “Hi.”

He took a drag of his cigarette, kicking his feet up onto the table. “Seen you around quite a bit.”

You couldn’t help but stare at his lips as they wrapped around the cigarette.

“We do go to the same school,” you quipped, smiling to show it was lighthearted.

Sirius smirked, happy you were responding well to him. “I usually don’t get on with anyone that isn’t in my year.”

“Why talk to me then?” you asked.

“Don’t know,” Sirius said, swinging his feet off the table and leaning his torso over the table a bit, “guess somethin’ just caught my eye.”

He knew his flirtations would make you blush, and they did just that. You smiled as you tilted your head back down, pretending to look over your notes in an attempt to calm yourself.

Sirius’s smile only widened watching you squirm under his gaze. “Whatcha studying?”

“Fwoopers,” you responded, “but understanding seems to evade me sometimes.”

“You know who’s super smart? My friend James.”

“Wh-“ before you could even stop him, Sirius signaled over James, who approached you with Remus in tow.

“This is James, James, say hi.”

James sighed. “I’m not a dog, Sirius, unlike some people.”

“Funny,” Sirius retorted, “do you think you could help my new friend with some Care of Magical Creatures work?”

“Oh, I don’t- I’m all good, I-“

“Course,” James lit up, sitting down directly next to you, “lemme see.”

He pulled the textbook toward him, familiarizing himself with what you were reading as Remus took a seat next to Sirius.

You watched a few girls walk past your table, shooting you dirty looks when they noticed that the boys were otherwise occupied with you. Sirius, Remus, and James has grown to be quite popular, and them speaking with a random, younger Hufflepuff was odd. Remus noticed your shift in energy.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, I just- I’m a year under you, I can’t do your schoolwork for you or anything.”

Sirius furrowed his brows in confusion. “Why would we want you to do our schoolwork?”

“I don’t know, is that not why you’re all talking to me?”

James diverted his attention from your textbook, looking at you in understanding. He felt a pant of guilt for springing everyone on you at once, and a pang of sadness for the fact you didn’t think they would actually want to talk to you just because.

“You forget James is top of his class,” Sirius said, but James didn’t think the mood called for quips. He shot Sirius a look, taking over the conversation.

“We’re sorry if we came off a little strong,” he started, “we all just wanted to say hey. We see you around a lot and think you’re cute, it’s as simple as that.”

“Oh,” you said, suddenly turning weak.

Sirius was smiling and relaxing back into the chair, amused to high hell with how innocent and blushy you were from such a small little compliment. He was so happy he suggested you.

────── ☾ ──────

The following day, Remus and Lily caught you walking down a corridor during your free period.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” you asked, directing the question toward Remus as they caught up to you.

“Didn’t feel like going,” Remus said, nonchalant.

“You can’t just not go,” you laughed, assuming he wasn’t serious.

“Be careful with this one,” Lily said to you, gesturing to Remus, “he’s a horrible influence. You wouldn’t have caught me dead skipping a lecture last year. He can be very persuasive.”

Something about the way she said it made you swallow hard, suddenly extremely aware of your presence and appearance.

“I’m Lily,” she finally introduced herself, throwing a piece of hair behind her shoulder. She was beautiful, and you became self conscious in her vicinity.

You didn’t respond, just smiled, so she took the opportunity to continue. “My friends and I are all headed to Hogsmeade later. You’re welcome to join if you want!”

“You’d want me to join?” you questioned.

“Don’t be silly, why not? Remus will be there too, and a ton of other really cool people.”

You contemplated your options. You had no reason to believe that Remus and Lily were not genuine in their invitation, and you were excited at the prospect of new friends. “Sure,” you responded.

Lily squealed and gave you a small hug. “I’ll go tell everyone you’re coming!”

“Why would you need-“

“Bye!”

Lily scrambled off down the hallway, leaving you alone with Remus.

“She tends to get excited,” Remus explained, “she’s the friendliest people-person I know. Can get quite annoying, actually.”

You giggled at his statement, and he took the opportunity to brush his hand against yours. You took it as an accident, so you didn’t even react, but then he intertwined his fingers with your own.

You didn’t retract your hand, but instead looked to where yours met his, and then looked at him. He continued looking forward, walking alongside you and not acknowledging what he did. He wanted to see if you would pull away on your own, but you didn’t. It felt comfortable.

You got ready for your trip with your new friends alone, since all of them were in Gryffindor or Slytherin and stuck to their respective common rooms. You caught Lily and Mary outside of their common room, and you walked with them down to Hogsmeade.

Now that you were outside of the castle walls, you noticed a shift in how everyone acted with one another. They were all very touchy, making sexual innuendos at each other and allowing themselves to have fun without restriction.

You followed as they immediately went to Honeydukes. Alecto informed you that Sirius had a serious sweet tooth, and always made everyone go there as the very first stop on their trips. No one complained, though, because they all wanted to anyway.

As you all exited the shop, Dorcas made a show of sucking her lollipop, staring Evan in the eyes as she did so. You felt your cheeks go hot, almost feeling like you saw something you shouldn’t have.

The next stop was the Three Broomsticks, and James saw your confusion as you reached the entrance.

“You okay?” he asked you.

“Yeah, just- didn’t you all just get a whole bunch of sweets?”

James laughed, “and?”

You smiled toward him. “Fair enough.”

“We don’t like to shy away from the pleasure of life, darling,” Dorcas said, imitating a very english accent. Everyone laughed in unison at her impression.

You all crowded around a table, and you remained silent, your hands in your lap for fear of obstructing the space Sirius had to your left and Mary had to your right.

You listened intently as everyone joked and talked about their current courses and professors, when suddenly a question was directed at you.

“So tell me, which professor do you like the least? I just know it’s Professor Bins. I mean, you’re crazy if you don’t say Bins,” Lily said.

“If I had to pick, sure,” you said.

“He’s never done anything to drive you crazy?”

“I mean, there was this one time he assigned so much work over the holiday that someone threw a desk out the window,” you started.

“Wait what? What exactly happened?” Lily asked, enthusiastic that you were finally opening up.

“It was just all textbook readings and analysis, especially about the Ministry and MACUSA and all that, and he said it had to be done by the time we came back from holiday. A few students protested, and he just got more and more angry until someone stood up, picked up a desk, and chucked it out the window. It happened so fast I don’t think anyone had the time to levitate it before it hit the ground.”

Everyone chuckled at the story, and you felt at ease now that you were becoming more and more comfortable with the group.

“And did he…”

“Faint from sheer stress? Oh absolutely,” you added, smiling as you spoke, your posture adjusting to mimic your growing comfort.

You didn’t catch it, but Sirius and Remus exchanged a look, nodding their heads upward at one another as Sirius gently placed his hand on your thigh.

Your body jolted a slight bit as you flinched, startled by the unfamiliar feeling. Sirius immediately pulled his hand away, but you turned to him, and spoke low enough that only he could hear. “It’s okay, you can leave it there.”

Sirius put his hand back, resting it low on your thigh. As time went on, and you continued talking, he began to rub his thumb on your leg. It felt unfamiliar, but soothing and intimate.

Of course you were attracted to the people at the table: they were all insanely attractive and kind to you, but you hadn’t felt this feeling before. Someone was touching you, and so intimately, and it was doing something to you.

Sirius began to slowly creep his hand upward, rubbing your inner thigh under your skirt, only a few inches away from your most sensitive area.

You shuddered and your breathing hitched in your throat, but you didn’t stop him.

You were suddenly snapped back to reality when you noticed everyone watching you. You looked around the table, slightly embarrassed and slightly confused.

“We have a proposition for you,” James said.

[mallowsweetmiri]

Truth, Dare, or Punishment ~ Fred Weasley

summary: you bitches asked for dom!Fred and you shall receive. a game of truth or dare in the common room goes south when Mclaggen dares you to kiss him

warnings: possessive dom!Fred, smut, cursing

---------------------------------------------------------

The night had been going splendid so far. Everyone was way too excited after the arrival of Beauxbatons and Durmstrong to go to sleep, and the older Gryffindors decided to get shitfaced as the perfect solution to their restlessness. After all, there was no quidditch this year to justify throwing common room parties, so you guys had to get creative. The new year brought new witches and wizards to corrupt, and so the twins finally let their baby brother Ron and his year join the fun. It been going well, granted Hermione was drunk off her ass, but Harry had been watching over her well enough. You were also past the point of drunk, and you assumed by their faces that the rest of the group were on their way there. At this point in the night, those who were still awake were circled up playing a filthy game of truth or dare. Angelina had gone to do seven minutes in heaven with George, Neville had eaten a puking pastille, and Ron had madeout with Lavender Brown in a disturbing manner. It was time to spin the bottle again to see who would ask the next question. Hermione giggle and leaned into the circle to spin the bottle. Everyone look around with nervous smiles as it spun around and around, before landing on Cormac McLaggen. You cringed. This was possibly the worst person it could've stopped on. Your body had a visceral reaction when your name left his lips.

"Y/N," he smiled drukenly, "Truth or dare?" You rolled your eyes. Oh, great.

"Truth," you said, grabbing your drink and taking a swig. You were going to need it.

"Who did you lose your virginity to?"

You choked on your drink as the rest of the group murmured at the question, Hermione's jaw dropping before a stream of shocked laughs escaped her. You felt Fred tense up beside you. Your mind raced with the memories of this summer at the Burrow.

"Just like that, Y/N. You're doing so good," Fred praised as he thrusted into you, kissing the crook of your neck while he fucked you. He'd been teaching you how kiss, as a friend of course. He had to help out his dear friend Y/N when she confessed how embarrassed she was that she had never kissed anyone. Never done anything with anyone. From there it had escalated. First, you wanted to know learn to give a blowjob, but soon enough Fred thought it'd be best if you knew what these things felt like too. After a while, you both realized you were terribly obsessed with each other, and one night you decided to let him be the one to take your virginity. He was big, and you were nervous, but he was so sweet about it. Even at the beginning when you thought it wouldn't be able to fit, he was reassuring and gentle with you. But that was at the start, and by now he was fully fucking you on your back, your pussy starting the soften around his cock as pleasure began to ripple through your body. You both came together in a heap of sweat and kisses.

"Y/N," McLaggen sung, waiting for your response.

"I'm not answering that," you coughed, still choking on your drink. The group has set up measure to tell if someone was lying, so you couldn't fake still being a virgin. You supposed the question wasn't that out of pocket, but you couldn't answer it. Nobody knew about you and Fred besides George, and you both wanted to keep it that way. Especially from your families.

"Well then, you know the rules," McLaggen tsked teasingly, "you forfeit to dare."

"What? No, I-"

"Those are the rules Y/N," Hermione cringed, unable to stop herself. McLaggen smirked.

"I dare you to kiss me."

You felt nauseous. McLaggen was disgusting, and the last person you'd ever want to kiss. Unfortunately, you'd brought this onto yourself. You should've known he would dare someone to kiss himself. What a weirdo. The circle groaned and laughed in disgust as McLaggen puckered his lips. You cringed and shifted your weight to lean across the circle. Just as you were about to shuffle over to him, Fred grabbed your wrist and pulled you back. You looked back at him and saw anything but a smile on his usually cheerful face. He spun the bottle and landed it on himself in a hasty motion, still holding onto your wrist tightly.

"McLaggen, I dare you to stop wearing your fucking Ballycastle Bats tighty whities to every single quidditch practice," Fred sneered before yanking you up with him and pulling you towards his dorm. You heard the group go crazy with laughter behind you and hoped it would cover for the fact that Fred just pulled you away from the party. Hopefully George could cover for you two, he should be done with seven minutes by now. Fred dragged you up the stairs without so much as a look in your direction. Once you reach his dorm, he threw open the door. What was happening?

"Fred-" he smashed his lips into yours and shut the door with your body. You gasped as your back hit to wooden surface, Fred pulling your skirt up while his hand gripped your thigh. He used your lifted leg as leverage to grind down into your hips as he pressed you against the door. Your pussy pulsed when you felt him against you, his hands gripping in all the right places. Wait a minute. When did he start kissing you again?

"Fred," you said quickly, pulling away from his mouth. He tried to kiss you again. "Fred, we just left the party. You just dragged me up here when I was supposed to kiss-"

"Don't even say his name," Fred growled, his breathing heavy and hot as he kept his face inches from yours.

"I'm sorry," you whispered out, unable to speak properly. You'd never seen Fred mad before.

"I'm sorry I dragged you," he softened, ducking his head down to kiss your neck, "but I wasn't going to let somebody else kiss you." With that, he began to attack your neck. His left hand came up to grip the back of your head as his tongue and teeth lapped at your sweet spot. You let out whimpered moans as he worked, his fingers gripping you just right. Rougher than usual.

"Freddie," you moaned, grinding yourself onto his leg. You needed more. This man had hooked, and you'd never been so addicted in your life. He picked you up under your legs and carried you to the bed before placing you down on your back. He stood over you, leaving you panting on the bed as he took off his shirt and undid his belt. His eyes were locked on yours. You wanted to look away but you couldn't, his gaze wouldn't let you. When he finished, he rushed towards you again, kissing you deeply as his hand flipped your skirt up. His tongued rammed itself into your mouth, stifling your moans when his fingers grazed over your clit. You blushed as his fingers masterfully moved your panties aside and dipped into your core. Fred laughed into the kiss as he felt you.

"Already so wet for me," he breathed huskily, "are you ready to take me?" His words had you aching. You nodded up at him bashfully. You wanted him so badly. You had turned into such a slut for his cock. "Good girl." He sat up and flipped you over, pulling your panties down as he took off his own pants. He didn't bother to take off your skirt as he pulled you back onto him. You let out a guttural moan as you felt his length stretching you out.

"Fuck, Freddie," you whined as he gripped your hips and began to thrust into you. He was going to leave bruises for tomorrow, but you didn't care.

"You're taking it so good, Y/N" Fred groaned, smacking your ass, "you like getting fucked by me? Huh?" He picked up his pace, pounding into you hard. Your moans were bouncing with the rhythm of his thrusts as he waited for your reply.

"Y-yes, Freddie. I love when you fuck me," you whined, feeling you pussy begin to clench around him. His dick twitched at the feeling and groaned. In one motion, he pulled out and spun you onto your back, pulling your shirt up over your tits and pinning your wrists above your head.

"God, you look so fucking pretty. Can't see your beautiful face while I'm behind you," Fred grunted as he thrust back into you. You moaned and threw you head back. You writhed underneath Fred, his hand constraining your wrists. You desperately needed to grasps something. You were reaching the edge.

"Freddie," you cried, unable to say anything except his name. Your eyes clenched shut as you felt your stomach knot up one final time.

"That's it, baby. Come for me." You could feel his eyes on you as you released yourself around his throbbing cock. As the waves of pleasure began to slow, Fred grunted and became sloppy. He released your hands and buried his face into your neck as he came, pushing himself as deep as he could inside of you. He laid there for a moment before pushing himself off you and pulling you onto his chest. You couldn't help but giggle a little as he kissed your head and rubbed your shoulder.

"You are so jealous," you teased, looking up to see Fred. He laughed with a sleepy half smiled.

"I'm not jealous," he retorted, pinching your cheek. "I'm just protecting whats mine."

[crescenthistory]

Where Padfoot Lays His Head

Summary: Inspired by @thewriterghost's reblog of my last animagus!reader fic, this is just a sweet drabble of Whiskers comforting Padfoot:,)

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, your marauders/animagus name is whiskers, walburga black, black family dynamics and trauma, vaguely implied abuse, sirius spiraling into self-loathing, platonic physical affection, romantic!regulus x reader but platonic!sirius x reader is the main focus, background platonic!moonwater

Note: this is based on the same reader from Feline Touches, Sweet Like Honey and Padfoot vs. Whiskers, sirius' beloved almost-sister-in-law that he has frequent (loving) sibling squabbles with

Sirius pretended he didn’t feel the humiliation burning through his veins from his friends’ worrying looks.

Stop looking at me, stop caring so sodding much.

His internal begging was all for naught; this was apparently what he signed up for when he strolled into the train compartment that housed the largest smile Hogwarts had ever seen and his pack of make-shift slightly-fucked-up-but-lovable friends.

Most days, Sirius was grateful to the bone for the family he had been able to assemble at Hogwarts, stretching from his boyfriend to his boyfriend’s childhood best friend to his biological brother and the boys that became his brothers. However, on days that Walburga Black, the hag to end all hags, sends him a Howler berating him for leaving home over the summer, few sentiments besides anger, self-loathing and isolation remained in the young boy’s body.

When he eventually stops reeling and wallowing, all this attention would make him feel warm once more, especially when he sees they didn’t stop showering him in it even as he retreated perhaps a bit rudely from it. Right now, though, it just kept the wound open and Sirius was sure the infection would kill him this time around.

He was sure of that every time.

It became evident quickly that he would not be able to get away from his friends. James was practically glued to his side from the moment he left the Great Hall after Walburga ruined everyone’s lunch. His brown eyes were so wide beneath his glasses and Sirius was sure he could almost see tears in them as he swung his arm around Sirius’ shoulders and kept telling jokes like his life depended on it. Remus was not much better. He had learned by now not to soften his touches when Sirius was in these moods – on the contrary, harsh, direct touches helped ground him – but his hands rarely left his being, as if he would fall apart without him. Even Lily tuned down her playful banter with him, swapping it for concerned questions and checking in on him throughout the day. Sirius loved them all, but he hated it.

Even Regulus showed him more compassion than normal, though he didn’t say much. His entire being seemed to radiate I get you, I understand more than anyone, because frankly he did. Even as hearing Walburga’s voice must have rattled Regulus too, he didn’t show it, instead holding space for Sirius, carrying what was supposed to be his burden.

Humiliating. 

All of which to say, Sirius did what Sirius does best; he ran from them all, in the one form none of them would be able to hold a conversation with him in.

Padfoot had turned out to be a blessing that way. Sirius picked up on it from you, who only ever was in your animagus form when you felt particularly well or horrifically poorly. Difficult to ask how a dog is feeling, yeah? 

He laid in front of the common room fireplace, stretched out in a position that showed he was ready to pounce should anyone try to pet him. Around him, his friends were cuddled up on the sofas and armchairs, chattering lowly amongst themselves and playing the occasional game of wizarding chess. Padfoot had his head placed on his front paws as his gaze flickered all over the room, unable to settle. His nerves always seemed to transform with him, manifesting as the most anxious dog Gryffindor had seen.

Perhaps the only one, but the sentiment remained.

Their stares were still on him, penetrating and with downturned frowns over their faces. Stop it, stop it, stop it. He couldn’t string too long sentences together in his dog brain – part of its fantastic appeal right now – but that sentiment remained steadfast.

You were sat in Regulus’ lap opposite the fireplace, murmuring something in his ear as you both intermittently looked at Padfoot. Your hands were playing with his hair, lips almost grazing his skin as you talked, even pressing the occasional kiss to his cheek, his jaw, his ear. Love. Padfoot loved love and he loved his little brother getting to experience it so wholly, even as he laid here, destroying the moment with the same misery that haunted any children raised by the Black family. He felt as if he was sucking the joy out of the room with his wallowing, yet he couldn’t stop himself.

Padfoot couldn’t help the low whine that escaped him at the darkness swirling around inside him. Upon fearing having to meet the gazes of anyone who caught the noise and see the goddamn sympathy and pity in them, he brought his paws up to cover his eyes, pathetically hiding within himself.

Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.

In his internal chanting, he didn’t notice when the chatter died down a bit, nor did he see the glances exchanged. He felt the footsteps reverberating through the floorboards, suggesting somebody was walking away, but he didn’t register its true implications. Leave, was all he could think. Good, leave. Go.

What he did notice to its fullest extent was when a few moments later, soft fur collided with his own as something was rubbing against him.

A bit too quickly, almost too violently, Padfoot’s head snapped up from beneath his paws to see what this intrusion was – only to come face to face with a white-and-grey cat, blinking slowly at him. His mouth fell slightly open, and he thought a complaining bark may be on its way out, but then you – Whiskers – butted your head against the side of his neck, caressing him with your feline body.

The adventures of Whiskers and Padfoot were a running joke, especially one Remus and Regulus loved to team up to tell. Whether it was chasing each other around, hunting rats – preferably Wormtail, but any would do – and mice or playing with the house elves, you two loved to conduct mischief together in the one form you could never be properly caught in. There had been the occasion where you cuddle or pet one another, but it was rare and usually unspoken, attachment growing deeper and softer without either properly addressing it. 

So, this was not necessarily out of left field, but it surprised him nonetheless. He couldn’t say it wasn’t quite welcome, though.

You had started purring as you walked up and down his body where he was laid in front of the fire, soaking up the warmth he was bathed in and oddly calming the vibrating nerves within his own body. Whenever you reached his head, you bumped your snout against his, rubbing the space between your ears all over his face.

Cats are weird, Padfoot thought. Like it.

Mere minutes ago Sirius had been surveying his friends and his effect on them intently, digging himself deeper into his self-inflicted hole. Now, his attention was captured by the much smaller animal beside him, and he didn’t see how most conversation had stopped to witness the interaction. Lily and James looked at them in almost shocked awe, both having been snapped at and ran away from when they attempted to pet Padfoot themselves. Regulus and Remus, however, sat there with soft, knowing smiles – seeing the girl they loved most go for it with no fear and comforting their favourite dog. Remus would deny it to anyone who asked, but there were tears in his eyes.

The next time Whiskers came up beside his face, you stayed there, leaning yours against his. You laid your body down over the paws Padfoot had previously rested his own head on and made yourself comfortable in a position no one but a cat could possibly conjure up. From there, you began cleaning his fur like you were his personally-assigned cat mother, licking the strands in their correct direction. When his face was too far away, you lightly brought your paw up to his snout to bring him further towards you.

Despite being placed in front of a fire, warmth didn’t truly spread through Sirius before now. When he brought his head down, he laid it on top of you and let it rest there across your midsection, careful not to hurt you, as your upper body curled around his head. You continued cleaning up his fur as you purred loudly, easing the tension from Padfoot’s poor body.

A cuddle only animals could come up with, an embrace Sirius would deny anyone today, yet like this, it just worked.

When his eyes became heavy, Sirius let them fall. You continued your ministrations without hesitation, carefully and slowly tending to Sirius face, only stopping occasionally to nuzzle your forehead further into his fur and purr even louder. 

He didn’t quite fall asleep, he rarely did as Padfoot, too alert and awake in this form, but he let himself fall into a place of tranquillity. Walburga’s harsh words seemed almost funny in their anger now, and Sirius’ own spiral was becoming a thing of the past. 

Would he still be red-cheeked tomorrow and avoid his friends’ eyes for the first half of the day? Perhaps, but they would reel him into their arms and hearts regardless. Would he sputter and fall back into his evil cycle of thoughts if anyone brought this specific moment up? Without a doubt, but that’s why they would not, at least not before he settled. 

Padfoot was suddenly safe in the Gryffindor common room. He was safe with this warm weight over his paws and beneath his head, he was safe with love being quite literally carded into every strand of fur on his body. He was safe with the hearth behind him and his pack in front of him, quiet voices further lolling him further into a state of peace.

Padfoot was safe – maybe even loved.

Across the room, Remus and Regulus had gravitated further towards one another, as theirs were the only eyes who never left the scene of cat-dog-solidarity displayed before them. 

Regulus bumped into Remus’ arm with his elbow and whispered, “He doesn’t like cats, he says?” with a knowing smirk.

The other boy huffed a laugh at that, lips remaining softly upturned. “I believe he has an exception or two to that rule.”

[my-castles-crumbling]

risk - jegulus microfics - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 495

“Okay,” Dorcas said brusquely, tapping a pointer against a chalkboard in the abandoned classroom they all had gathered in, trying to gather everyone’s attention. “Let’s focus. Reasons for Regulus getting over himself and telling Potter he’s desperately in love?”

Pandora, Evan, and Barty all grinned, while Regulus rolled his eyes.

“I’ve got one!” Barty yelled, raising his hand like a model student. “Potter’s fit as hell!”

Nodding studiously, Dorcas wrote ‘fit as hell’ under the heading ‘Pros’ on the board.

“He’s not a prat,” Pandora added lightly. “He’s not gonna make fun of Reg for any big confessions.”

‘Not a prat’ was added underneath ‘Fit as hell.’

“He’s obviously even more gone for Reg than Reg is for him. He stares at him all the time,” Evan drawled, rolling his eyes.

“He obviously cares, too,” Dorcas added. “He let Reg stay at his house last summer.

‘Stares like a creep’ and ‘cares a lot’ were both added.

The discussion continued. Soon, the list had things like ‘mostly smart’ and ‘sometimes funny’ and ‘not a dumbarse’ and ‘would be a good trophy husband’ and ‘actually a decent person’ were on the list.

Finally, Regulus was allowed to speak.

“Okay let’s say I do have feelings for Potter–which I’m still not saying I do!” Regulus said, grimacing. “For the ‘Cons’ side…it’s a risk.” He sighed. “He…he’s friends with Sirius. I’m staying at his house. I’m friendly with him. I have a lot to lose, you know?”

Evan, Dorcas, Barty, and Pandora looked at Regulus, probably shocked by his genuine tone, and were quiet while ‘risk’ was added to the board. But soon, Dorcas spoke. “I think some risks are worth it, you know?” she said.

But before anyone could say any more, the door of the classroom banged open, and Regulus’s worst nightmare came to life. Because James Potter walked in, stuffing a parchment in his pocket, and gave an awkward wave. “Er, hi! Sirius is looking for…” but he stopped when he saw the board.

“Well….this is awkward,” Barty said lightly, a shit-eating grin on his face.

James, however, turned to Regulus, and broke into a smile. “‘Fit as hell,’ eh?”

Regulus felt himself turning maroon. “I never said that,” he mumbled.

“Does it help if I think you’re fit as hell, too?” James asked, his grin only growing.

Regulus gaped. James stepped closer.

“I, however, do think you’re a prat sometimes. But I quite like that about you,” the Gryffindor said, beaming.

A small smirk flickered onto Regulus’s face.

“Yeah?” he asked breathlessly.

“Hmmm. This ‘trophy husband’ thing though,” James murmured, smirking as well. “That has some merit. I’d love to talk more about it.”

They were close, now, James’s hand fluttering by Regulus’s waist.

It was only then that Regulus realized how much his friends were staring at them.

“Fuck off, all of you,” he ordered.

But he didn’t wait for his grumbling friends to leave before allowing James to crash their lips together.

[cherrixpie]

DINNER & DIATRIBES

double feature: part a - part b

-> not only is mattheo too late to ask you out to the yule ball, you're going with harry potter of all people. now, his best friend is going to the ball with his nemesis and he has some feelings about it.

-> mattheo riddle x bsf! reader; part b; eventual nsfw; mdni; wc: 12k; cw: swear words; mentions of violence; tags: friends to lovers, yule ball setup; again I wasn't able to tag everyone, sorry :(

( masterlist )

The crystal glass dangled loosely from Mattheo’s fingers, the deep red of the wine catching the flickering candlelight as he swirled it absentmindedly. The Great Hall, all decked in crystal blue, was filled with the chatter of students streaming in from the Entrance Hall, their dresses swirling in and ot of the crowd like a particularly hypnotizing kaleidoscope. Mattheo leaned against one of the grand marble pillars, the cool stone pressing into his back, but it did nothing to ground him- not when he spotted you in the midst of a large Gryffindor crowd squeezing through the Entrance Gates.

A slow burn seemed to spread out beneath his skin as he cursed the tight knot forming in his stomach- he had sworn to himself that he would not care. At least not visibly. That he’d drink, flirt, maybe even steal someone else onto the dance floor just to pass the time. But then he spotted you, and all his carefully built indifference collapsed. And here he was, clutching his glass so tightly it was damn near shattering under his grip and scowling as his eyes seemed unable to sway from your figure.

Despite having seen you just a few minutes before and having had to refrain himself from dragging you off to his dorm, the sight of you in your emerald green dress hit him like a slap in the face. It wasn’t for him -he knew that, damn it- but it didn’t matter. Because it was not just any green, but the kind that curled around his ribs like a vice, the kind that belonged to him. Deep, rich emerald, his color, pooling at your feet in silken waves, clinging to your skin in a way that made his fingers twitch with the urge to touch.

And yet, you weren’t on his arm. You were on Potter’s. And the sight of it -of Harry fucking Potter standing where Mattheo should have been- lit something violent and unsteady beneath his skin.

He rolled his jaw, exhaling slow and controlled breaths as he lifted the wine to his lips. The taste was sharp, bitter, but not nearly bitter enough. It did nothing to drown out the ugly feeling in his chest, curling around his insides like a snake, eager to squeeze all life out of him. A slow, pulsing irritation clawing at his chest.

He should look away. Should let the scene wash over him like he didn’t give a damn, like it didn’t matter that stood so close to you you could’ve been kissing, like it didn’t make his blood hum with something ugly. But he didn’t. Couldn’t. Because no matter how much he told himself he didn’t care, there you were, wrapped in green silk like a present for him alone, ready to be unraveled.

Fuck. He really should have asked you sooner. How stupid of him to assume no one but him would ask you, how cowardly of him to keep teetering the edge without delving into the abyss with you, holding you tight as he fell from the heavens. But he’d drag you down with him. As a joke, you had called him a fallen angel once- and though he wasn’t so sure about himself, you had to be a creature of the heavens, with that smile and laugh of yours, with the way you eagerly listened to your friends and ran a hand over your dress. He could read your face like it was an open book, read your mingling self-consciousness in the dress, and it drove him mad. Made him burn to stride over and show you exactly just how stunning you were.

But in that exact moment, your eyes scanned the crowd and met his, widening slightly. A hesitant smile tugged at your lips. Innocent. As if you had no idea of the effect you had on him, the way he craved you, the way he boiled with hot anger when Harry noticed your distractedness and glanced over. And had the audacity to snake his arm around your waist. His jaw clenched and he willed himself to remain in place when Potter leaned in and whispered something to you. Merlin, this night would be hell. On his way down from heaven, it seemed he had missed earth and landed right in the devil’s lair.

“Everything alright?” At the sound of Harry’s voice close to your ear you flinched slightly, blinking to regain your normal train of thought- the one that didnt want to crash face first into the man currently glaring at you from across the hall.

You turned to Harry and gave him a friendly smile you hoped wouldn’t betray the mix of nervosity, self-consciousness and unbearable excitement curling in your chest. “Yeah,” you said quickly, clearing your throat. “You?” Because Harry had been squirming against your side ever since you’d set foot in the Great Hall.

A light frown pulled his brows together as he glanced fleetingly in the direction of the man you had been caught up with just before, tugging lightly at your waist to quicken your steps. “I’m alright, just terrified Riddle’s death stares will turn into actual curses,” he said, chuckling slightly but with a visible nervousness in the way his fingers twitched and eyes darted back every other second.

Refusing to look back at Mattheo, you leaned into Harry and gave him a reassuring smile. “If he comes this way, I’ll fall to my knees dramatically so you can make your escape.” That elicited a laugh from Harry, and, visibly calmer, he guided you towards the center of the room, followed by your Gryffindor friends.

Enzo, who stood next to Mattheo waiting for his Ravenclaw date for the night, whistled under his breath as you laughed with Harry, and nudged Theo. “She sure dolled herself up for Potter, didn’t she?”

The other chuckled in return, eyes flashing over to Mattheo who’s jaw was taut as his eyes remained glued to your figure. “Yeah…,” he said slowly, gauging his reaction out of the corner of his eye, “Dunno if I would dress like that for a friend.” Him and Enzo shared an amused look when Mattheo scoffed at them, knocking back the remaining wine. With careful words, they stoked the flames, ready to save themselves into appropriate safety distance once their prodding caused a wildfire.

But Mattheo stood eerily still, resembling a marble statue more so than a man. With a barely concealed smirk, Theo leaned over Enzo and dropped his voice, directly addressing him. “Careful, mate, you’re staring hard enough to set him on fire.”

Abruptly, Mattheo pushed himself off the wall and both Enzo and Theo took an instinctive step back. But Mattheo only glared at them in a way that had cold seep into their very bones before scowling at his empty glass. “I’ll get a refill.” And he was gone.

Weaving through bodies and dresses, Mattheo made his way to the bar, simplified somewhat by the instinctive step back people took at the sight of him. Muttering a frustrated curse under his breath, he slammed his empty glass on the bar counter, along with a few knuts to pay for the refill.

Breathing in the whifts of so many perfumes certainly didn’t clear the fog in his mind. Quite the opposite, they seemed to claw at the more rational functions of his brain, whispering in deivilishly seductive tones. In search of a distraction, he let is gaze flicker, but, as if it was magnetically drawn to it, it came to rest on your figure once more.

Beneath his fuming fury lay something deeper, more tender. As he watched you pull Harry onto the dancefloor with a look of mock pleading, he found himself completely enraptured with the way your lips moved, the way your dress swayed and your eyes shone bright. If it was him following you onto the dancefloor, would your smile be as wide? Why would it be? Harry’s hands were hesitant and gentle, his were stained with an unwanted legacy and the blood that you would always wash off of him, running a soft towel over his knuckles and cleaning his palms carefully.

You were all softness and gentleness, he was jagged edges and destruction. Where people flinched away from him, they seemed to gravitate towards your light. A light that Harry matched, while he was the dark, lurking in the shadows. A greedy, beastly creature that, in spite of loving you, craved to ruin you more than anything. Had he been delusional to consider that someone like you could ever love something as twisted as him?

It wasn't like he didn’t know you deserved better- maybe it had been what made it unable for him to finally bridge the gap, pull you into him in moments when your lips would hover close, yet impossibly far from each other. You were dancing in the light, and all he could think about was dragging you back into the shadows with him.

As you animated Potter to dance with you, he felt a pang of hurt tug at his bruised heart. Potter was the sort of guy you brought home to your family. He got to dance with you, while Mattheo got to drown in his own poison and pretend he didn’t care, ignore the monster rattling his ribcage, yearning to break free. Rolling his jaw tensely, he grabbed the filled glass and took off towards his friends once more.

“You’re so much better at this than me,” sighed Harry in frustration, staring intently at his feet as if willing them to repeat the same, easy steps.

His tense concentration elicited a small laugh from you. “i had practice. Harry, your feet are not the enemy, you don’t have to work against them, you have to let them carry you.”

“But I don’t trust them,” he murmured, albeit taking his eyes off the floor with a sigh- and promptly stepping on your foot. When you winced, a string of apologies stumbled form his lips like a waterfall, but you quickly assured him it was alright. the embarrassment left a pink hue on his cheeks and his eyes darted around, as if looking for an escape. They rested on someone behind you and twitched into a sudden grin. “Don’t turn around now,” he said conspiratorially, leaning down and lowering his voice. “But I think Pucey’s date might puke on his dress robes with the way she keeps squirming away from him.”

In spite of his warning, you shot a quick look over your shoulder and broke out into giggles when you spotted Pucey awkwardly dancing with his very unentertained date.

Mattheo’s grip on the glass tightened as you giggled at Potter’s joke. You were too far for him to hear the sound of your laugh, but he didn’t need to- the way your face lit up was enough to twist something savage inside him. Mattheo’s jaw ticked, a muscle twitching as he dragged his teeth across his bottom lip, biting down hard enough to taste blood. You shouldn’t be looking at Potter like that. That softness in your eyes, the kind Mattheo craved like a dying man craved air, wasn’t meant for him. And yet, there you were- beautiful, untouchable, clean and unspoiled, unlike him.

“I’m serious!” Harry called as the song took up speed and rhythm. Not even your pleading eyes seemed to sway him to twist you. “I can’t do stuff like that. I’m a miserable dancer!”

“Come on!” you groaned with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “It’s really easy, and I’ll be doing most of the heavy lifting anyway! Just hold your hand up like this-” He followed your order, clumsily spinning you around so that you stumbled into each other and almost crashed into Professor McGonnagall and Professor Dumbledore. Despite her pointed glare, you giggled like schoolchildren as you shuffled away from them.

Mattheo watched Harry twist you clumsily, and a bitter sort of satisfaction burned in the back of his throat, barely eased by the alcohol. “Pathetic,” he muttered sharply under his breath, eyes trained on you as you eased Harry back into dancing, cringing slightly when he stepped on your foot again. Fuck, how much better he would do if he was in Potter’s place. It was like the idiot wasn’t even trying.

Mattheo may not desreve you, but heavens strike him down if he couldn’t give you a better time than Potter. He wouldn’t hold you like you were a fragile thing, made of glass, shattering at the slightest tightening of a grip. As he followed your swaying figure with his eyes, he could picture it all: how he would hold and twirl you properly, his princess, his sweetheart. How he would whisper in your ear, tell you how gorgeous you looked, making you blush and giggle, or bite back a witty response.

Like the time a few months ago, when you’d practiced a quickstep. The topic had come up during one of your nights up at the Astronomy tower, him smoking and you pressed to his side, going through your Transfiguration notes. Under the watchful stars, he’d admitted to you that it had been Theo who had taught him how to dance, to both of their great frustration. The thought had amused you so much you had toppled over with laughter, and he remembered his heart picking up speed when you leaned against him for support, teasing him about the mental images he’d produced with this revelation.

Once you’d teased him thoroughly, you’d asked if you could rehearse the steps- supposedly for your refreshment of skill. You had barely tried to hide the fact that it was an excuse, and he hadn’t been about to question it when it presented such a tempting opportunity. There had been no record player up in the tower, but you’d simply pulled him up and rehearsed the steps. It had turned out he had more to learn from you than you from him.

With Theo as his teacher, it had been all steps, rigid rules, organised and contained, a pragmatic use of the legs. With you, however, it had been different. You had known what it meant to dance. The movement came natural to you, it wasn’t bound to rules or control, but a way to break free and let loose. It had been quite the adjustment, but Mattheo had found he much preferred your way of dancing. And by midnight, he had twirled you skillfully beneath the starry sky, your giggles and his teasing the only thing breaking the solitude of silence.

This night, however, felt like a warped version of the one he’d spend with you up at the tower. Too much noise, too many people and no clear fucking air, and instead of him, it was Potter holding you. At least you weren’t slow dancing.

His attention was momentarily averted when Pansy came stumbling towards him, Blaise following after. Their short breaths and the remnants of lipstick all over Blaise's face and neck were enough of an indicator where they’d been off too, as were the beaming grins on their faces.

Pansy, clearly already drunk, reached out and grabbed his drink, downing it. Too engrossed in the sight of Potter attempting another twirl that was just slightly less atrocious, he didn’t try to stop her. The alcohol didn’t help his overstimulated senses and cloudy mind anyway, only adding another layer of distortion to make him dizzy. He was miserable, he was fuming, and he couldn’t even drown his troubles in booze. Just great.

“Didn’t feel like dancing?” Pansy asked with a smirk. She leaned against the pillar next to him as Blaise left to get drinks for them both.

“You didn’t either, by the looks of it,” he quipped, eyes shortly tracing the marks that the dress was not accustomed to hide.

Pansy seemed as unbothered as usual though, only shooting him another smug smile. “She was cute though,” she said, grabbing a handful of chocolates off the plate of a waiter passing by them. “Ravenclaw, right?”

“Who?” asked Mattheo, taken aback, and stared at her incredulously.

Pansy toppled over with a snort. “You can’t be serious. You didn’t even see her? She was flirting with you for a good minute before she gave up.”

“Must’ve been distracted,” he muttered, glancing back to the dancefloor where you seemed to animate Potter’s spirits to little avail.

“I can see that,” Pansy jeered, following his gaze. “Merlin, she could’ve at least picked someone who knows how to dance. But then again-” She gave him a look he didn’t reciprocate, “it may still have been the best choice, don’t you think?”

“What the fuck makes you say that, Pans?” he asked sharply, letting his head fall back against the cold stone. At least the pain provided a small window out of the damn dizziness clouding his thoughts. “Just look at him, you could almost pity him.”

“Well, look at you,” she mused, which made him lift his head and frown at her. Pansy rolled her eyes in exasperation, actual sharpness laced into her tone as she glared at him. “Look, I’m tired of this. We all are. So either clear things up with her or you find yourself a good fuck for the night, Riddle. It’s an imposition to watch you brood.” Pushing herself off the marble pillar, she left in the direction of the bar, leaving Mattheo alone with his frustration.

He gritted his teeth as he rolled her words over in his mind. As if it were that easy. It was true that he had earned himself quite the reputation as a womanizer, or, as you called it, a manwhore, but his one night stands had become less and less frequent the closer he’d become with you over these past few months. He had always fucked for the distraction, never for the desire or the satisfaction. The fleeting high was a short moment of freedom, the control he could excerpt through his accommodated skills in bed a grim gratification.

But now, a burning desire unlike any he had ever known had taken a hold of him and wrapped an unrelenting hand around his heart. It would burn beneath his fingertips when he slipped his hands teasingly under your shirt, brushed his fingers over your thigh, pulled you into his lap. These short-lived moments that were both torture and fulfilment, especially when you’d blush and avert your eyes, when he would lean his head into the crook of your neck and listen to your heartbeat picking up speed.

Any time he’d have a girl in his bed now, all he could picture was you. When he kissed them, he imagined it was your lips, and when his hands would run along their bodies, he would imagine it was yours. He couldn’t stand it when they started moaning and talking, because it would fracture the fantasy and remind him that they weren’t you. But his bare hands weren’t enough either- they only intensified his desire to have you, to consume you, to see you fall apart on his cock and fingers. And it had the annoying downside that the girls he used as substitutes were, understandably, very indignant when it was your name he grunted when he came instead of theirs.

If he tried to distract himself with another hookup tonight, all he would be able to picture would be you and your dress, and there would be nothing but frustration at the thought, of unrequired longing. He also would have to fight the mental image of you if you found out how he was using others to fantasize about you. No, finding someone else to fuck wasn’t an option. So, what choice remained?

At that moment, the song ended and the crowd broke out into applause for the band. Stupid relief flooded him when Potter took his hands from your waist, tinged with slight satisfaction when it was Mattheo who he cast a nervous glance at, as if he’d touched a forbidden fruit. It cost him everything in the world to give him a harsh nod towards you. Fucking hell. Now he was directing his worst enemy to dance with his girl. But the last thing he wanted, truly, was to ruin your night. His was already miserable enough.

The band struck up a new, slower tune. It seemed to be a song you recgonized and you turned to Potter excitedly, but the latter seemed less enthusiastic at the prospect of another dance. After a short discourse, you seemed to reluctantly agree and readily let Potter tug you off the dance floor. Mattheo pushed himself off the cold stone digging into his back.

“I’ll get us some drinks, okay?” asked Harry, craning his neck to spot your friends. But Ron and Hermoine were occupied with each other on the dancefloor, Seamus and Lavender were making out near the teacher’s table, Neville was busy at his bartending shift and neither Ginny nor Dean where anywhere to be seen.

“Alright,” you smiled, albeit slightly disappointed that he had only done the mandatory dance with you, especially when it was one of your favorite songs playing. With an awkward nod towards you, he hurried off in the direction of the bar to join the crowd swarming Neville for drinks. You were left standing on the edge of the dancefloor as people swayed around you elegantly.

Just when you had decided that you might as well find some place to sit and treat your disappointment with some cake, an all-too familiar voice sounded behind you. “Guess Potter finally gave up, huh?”

With a startled gasp, you whipped around. It was like magic. One moment, Harry was leaving for drinks, the next, Mattheo seemed to materialize beside you as if he’d been waiting all right for the opportunity to strike. He leaned in, close enough that you could smell the light whift of alcohol on him. His frustrated scowl from earlier had shifted into a sharp grin practically dripping with mischief. His eyes, however, were as rough and stormy as ever as they raked over your figure. “Mind if I fill in? You look a little lonely, sweetheart.”

You felt conflcited as you stared up into those brown eyes you knew so well. If you took the hand he held out to you, gave into temptation, it would be just as always: you'd both reap the benefits without committing. He’d flirt and smile and charm his ass out of actually putting his skin in the game and asking you out- just like always.

Sensing your hesitation, he sighed and dropped his hand, running it through his curls instead. For a moment, his jaw was taut with tension, then, a flirtatious grin spread across his face once more and he seemed to reset. “Well,” he drawled smoothly, stepping even closer but making no move to touch you, “Do tell me what a pretty girl like you is doing in a place like this.”

The line was so old-fashioned and cliche it sounded comical, but despite your better judgement, your body betrayed you. You could only hope that he interpreted the flush on your cheeks as a consequence of all the dancing. The way his grin widened told you that he, in fact, did not. “And most of all,” he continued, leaning in so far you could smell the faint trace of a smoke, “what loser would would leave you to the vultures like this?”

“I hope you know that you are the vulture, Mattheo,” you replied in a fruitless attempt to divert from your flusteredness. It was the damn suit he was wearing- all black with just the faintest hint of green threading through the fabric, and beneath, his white, for once unbloodied, shirt that clung to him like it was stitched to his skin. The sharp lines of his jacket, the undone top buttons of his shirt, and the way his silver rings glinted against the dark material made it almost unfair how good he looked.

A devilish grin spread across his lips when you returned his heated gaze. “Oh, I know,” he agreed humorously. “And what’s he going to do about it when I steal away his girl? When he left you all alone?”

“I’m not his girl,” you replied coolly, ignoring the way your heart started to pound. All adrenaline from the dance, you tried to convince yourself.

But the sickeningly sweet smile he gave you didn’t only prove you wrong but somehow managed to melt your resolve. “Good news for me then, sweetheart.” Again, he held out his hand for you to take. His rings caught the light, they seemed to glint like a forbidden temptation, drawing you in. Merlin, how inviting that hand looked. “Dance with me,” he muttered, face only inches from yours, his dark eyes studying yours intently, as if he could see your perseverance crumble behind them. It wasn’t a question.

You hesitated for another second, eyes darting over the crowd to find Harry. You spotted him near the bar, chatting animatedly with Ginny, the drinks long-forgotten in his hands. When you looked back at Mattheo, his eyes pierced yours with unexpected intensity that made you swallow.

You shouldn't be doing this. There were rules you had set up for yourself tonight. This was supposed to be your game, not his. But his pull was as irresistible as that of a black hole, drawing you in and clouding your senses. The slight nod you gave him was enough.

With a gentleness you that surprised you, he took your hand, his other finding its place on your lower back as he guided you onto the dancefloor. Mattheo danced differently from Harry- more confident, slower, like he wanted to take his time rather than get it over with. His hand rested lower on your waist and he was so much closer.

The world blurred around him as all you could see was him in that damn suit, all you could feel was the burning touch of his hands, all you could smell were the traces of alcohol and smoke lingering on him like a reminder of who you were dancing with. You could have closed your eyes - if looking into his wasn’t so damn magnetizing- and recognized him by touch and scent alone, would have been able to differentiate him under all the boys of Hogwarts.

His grip on you was firm, but his more fleeting touches were tender. After a few steps, he had rid himself of all stiffness and you could feel his body mold into yours in a way that made your breath hitch slightly. His index finger drew circles on your waist.

You had wanted him to crack, to drop the teasing and admit what lingered beneath the surface. But you were rendered putty in his deft hands. Now, as his fingers splayed against the small of your back, seeming to tug you closer with each smooth step, you felt the pieces of your little game shifting in his favor. It was no longer yours to control. His touch burned through the fabric of your dress, deliberate and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to break you down.

The worst part by far was that he knew. Mattheo knew what he was doing, what power he held over you, and he wielded it like a blade wrapped in silk. His self-assured smile was like a checkmate, each wandering touch of his hands tightening the invisible thread he was weaving around you. He was spinning you in slow, deliberate circles, until you couldn’t tell whether you were chasing after him or he was already dragging you under. “Tell me, sweetheart,” he taunted you, leaning in until your temples nearly brushed. “This what you imagined when you said yes to him?”

This night had taken a tolerable turn, Mattheo thought to himself when a hint of pink dusted your cheeks and your eyes flickered away from his, well aware that he could see right through you. “I almost felt bad for him,” he smirked, “Watching him try not to trip over his own feet while you smiled through it.”

“It was sweet!” you exclaimed, feeling the need to defend Harry’s honor after you had made him a pawn in this game you were losing so miserably. “He tried his best!”

Mattheo raised his brows in mock scepticism. “Sweet? Sure, if that’s what you want to call a game of dodge the shoe.”

Recognizing a certain sharpness in his tone, you quirked your brow at him. “Jealous you didn’t get the chance to break my toes first?”

Mattheo shrugged slightly as his eyes flickered over your face, lingering for the split of a second on your lips. His pulled into a subtle grin when he noticed the way your breath came out as an airy tremble. “Jealous? Sure,” he purred, “Of your toes? Not exactly.”

His slight tap on your waist was the only sign you needed. You took the smallest of steps back and Mattheo spun you effortlessly, his hand like a firm anchor on your waist as he watched you with the kind of intensity that made your heart stumble. The room blurred around you as he twirled you back into his chest, taking a subtle step forward so your chest met his with more force than necessary. From the glint in his eyes, you knew he had done it deliberately.

“He danced like he was afraid you'd shatter if he held you too tight,” Mattheo sneered as he established a steady rhythm once more.

You gave him an unimpressed look. “Not everyone feels the need to manhandle me, Mattheo.”

Your words elicited a small chuckle from him; he seemed more light-hearted than he had at any point these last few weeks. “Maybe they aren’t up to your standards then,” he quipped back, running his thumb over your side. “Where is he off to, anyway? if he wanted to leave so badly, he could’ve handed you over to me.”

“Handed you over?” you scoffed, indignantly, and arched your brows at him. “That what I am now, some prize?”

“Don’t pout, sweetheart,” he smiled, leaning in. “You’re the one all wrapped up in silk like you’re a bloody gift.” This time, you didn’t receive a warning before both his hands dug into your sides and he lifted you up shortly, mirroring your fellow dancing pairs. You, who hadn’t seen it coming over all the whispering and being enraptured by his everything, gave a short yelp that made the grin on his face widen.

When his temple touched yours, your eyes fluttered shut and you enjoyed the moment to its fullest extent: feeling his skin on yours, the heat of his hand through your dress, his breath mingling with yours and his proximity enabling you to listen to the steady flow of his breath. The only thing that could ground you, as the ground seemed to unravel beneath your feet and all you could make out as reality rather than illusion was him. For one second of a lifetime, he was the sun you revolved around like a planet, forever stuck in its endless circles, cursed to reach out for him forever and never get to burn under his raw touch.

“I like your dress,” Mattheo muttered into the small space between your and his lips.

A small smile tugged on yours, and for this moment, all the pushing and pulling, challenging and playing, the threading of the needle, the teetering of the edge was forgotten. “Well, I like your suit too,” you mused. “You look good without all the blood.”

The chuckle seemed to get stuck in his throat, his voice a raspy whisper. “Don’t lie, sweetheart, you think I don’t know how hot you find me all bloody?” You parted just an inch or two to glare up at him, into those knowing eyes of his, restless as ever. “You’re an awful, awful person, Mattheo.” But you didn’t mean it. And he knew you didn’t.

“Oh, I know,” he purred, a grin pulling at his lips. “A right devil, aren’t I?”

“As I said,” you sighed, swaying in his arms. “A fallen angel.. Suits you though.” And if you’d stood just a few inches closer, if the music wasn’t still thrumming in your ears like an underlying growl, maybe you would have registered the way Mattheo's heart rate picked up speed at your words.

“Might want to pull away a bit, sweetheart,” he breathed without making any indication of following his own advice. “People might start to talk. And what a story that would be.”

“You dragged me onto the dancefloor, Mattheo,” you reminded him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking around for the stares that probably lingered on the pair of you, the same that would not subside however many times you leaned half-asleep against him during breakfast.

His grin took on a sharper edge, and you could feel in your very cells that the game was on again. “Only because you looked like you were waiting for me," he murmured lowly, causing heat to rush up into your cheeks because he made it sound like an undeniable truth. And it was.

You had nothing to retaliate, so you huffed and puffed for a few seconds before frowning up at him. “Since when have either of us cared about what other people think?”

“Oh, I certainly haven’t,” he said with the slightest air of superiority in his tone as his eyes flickered over your flushed features. Suddenly, his hand moved as he snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you flush against him, making you gasp and any and all response die in your throat, your brain short-circuiting. “Tell me, sweetheart,” he drawled under his breath, lips almost brushing yours. “Did you blush for Potter like that, too, or is it just me?”

It was this moment- the moment when the overwhelming desire to crash your lips gaainst his in front of the whole school took over your thinking, when you reminded yourself that you were mad at him, actually. What he was doing right now was the same exact thing you had been mad at him for for weeks: insinuating, flirting, touching, smiling, teetering the edge but copping out of any commitment or clarifying. Pulling away felt like the hardest thing in the world, but you managed to take a step back when the band finished the last note on a dramatic edge.

For one second, the world seemed suspended between you and him, right here on the dance floor, before you blinked and clarity flooded your brain. “I need some air,” you whispered, staring into his eyes as if hypnotized before you were able to pull yourself out of your trance. Swallowing your bitter regret, you gave him one last, fleeting glance before turning and weaving into the moving bodies of your fellow dancers, moving around you like a colorful marble game, in dire need of some fresh air to clear your racing thoughts.

From the way the people shuffled behind you, you knew Mattheo was coming after you, but you didn’t turn around to check- you didn’t have to. You could feel his gaze bruning into your back, felt almost as if you could differentiate the sound of his footsteps from those of the people scurrying out of his way.

People didn’t clear the path for you as they did for him, and so you were slower as you slipped through their midst, but Mattheo made no move to catch up to you, even when he easily could have. He seemed to follow you at a deliberate, short distance as you squeezed yourself through the small gap between a group of laughing Hufflepuff boys and a group of animetedly chatting Ravencalw girls and slipped through the glass doors onto the large, thankfully empty balcony.

Beneath the castle, it’s lights were reflected in the dark lake, shimmering secretively and blinking up at you as if they were mocking you. You leaned against the stone railing, gaze fixed onto the scenery below, painted in the dark shadows of a cold winter night. Mattheo’s footsteps sounded distinctly against the stone: slow, deliberate, and steadily approaching your figure. You refused to turn to him, knowing your expression would betray your wound up state.

When he was so close you could hear his breath over the muted sounds from inside the Great Hall, his step haltered as he stopped some two feet behind you, looming between you and the warm glow of the hall like a shadow. After a short silence, in which only the rustle of wind clawing at the castle walls was to be heard, he was the first to speak up. “Didn’t take you long to run off, sweetheart,” he said, words rolling off his tongue like the purr of a predator a second away from cornering its unknowing prey. “Was it something I said?”

An unbelieving scoff left your lips and you propped your arm up on the stone railing, rubbing your hand over your temple in frustration. “It’s everything you say, Mattheo.”

Even though you couldn’t see him, it was as if you could feel the way he raised his brows at you. A frustrated huff stumbled from your lips as you glared onto the dark lake, this stupidly serene scenery. “You- you think you can just flirt and smirk your way through this like nothing in the damn world could ever touch Mattheo Riddle.”

The light chuckle resonating behind you was so damn cocky and confident as if the world would bend under the weight of his fingertips, of his very voice- and didn’t he have all the reason to? “I don’t think,” his voice sounded softly behind you, so fucking self-assured it made your blood boil. “I know.”

With a sharp, humorless laugh, you threw your hands into the air. “And there we have the problem, way to self-report!”

The sound of his steps drew nearer, clearly distinct against the contrasting silence. His voice was a hiss through gritted teeth, his flirtatious teasing replaced by the violent turmoil that had been boiling in his chest all night. “That’s the problem, yeah?” he asked sharply, leaning against the stone railing right next to you. Stubbornly, you stared onto the black mass that was the dark forest, even as he leaned in and his lips brushed over the shell of your ear. “‘cause you sure looked real cozy with your friend Potter out there.”

“You care too much about my date,” you hissed, fully aware of the hypocrisy of your words. They were meant to wound him up, like the pull down to your end was nothing but a fatalistic tide you had to give into.

The scoff seemed to be interlaced into his tone as he withdrew from your figure slightly, leaning both forearms against the railing. So close, yet so far. “Did I say I cared?” he asked into the night, voice as cold as the winter breeze chilling your bones.

At those words, you finally whipped around to face him and folded your arms over your chest. “You sure act like it,” you said quickly, defensively.

With a low chuckle, Mattheo turned to you once more, his eyes piercing yours and you knew. Knew that he saw right through every excuse, every lie, every wall. Because Mattheo, for all the good and the bad it entailed, knew you, and he knew you well. His lips curled into a smirk as he leaned in. “And you sure act like you want me to.”

“God!” you exclaimed angrily and threw your hands into the air, no outlet for your aggression other than Mattheo. But he didn’t seem much different, as he laughed under his breath and inched even closer, until his shoulder brushed yours and his breath fanned your cheeks. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest as your eyelids fluttered. It was hard to hold onto determination when he was looking at you like this, when an outright devilish smile tugged at his lips.

“You like this, don’t you?" he muttered, eyes wandering over your face to detect any hesitation, any twitch, any fleeting glimpse of emotion. “The push an’ the pull, the fight?” A sarcastic smile graced his lips when he lowered his head to yours.

“I hate it,” you lied through gritted teeth, refusing to look away from him and narrowing your eyes stubbornly.

Mattheo’s fingers curled around your wrist, his grip firm but not painful- just enough to make your pulse stutter beneath his thumb. He lifted your hand as if inspecting it, dark eyes gleaming with something wicked when he felt the frantic beat of your heart. “Then why haven’t you left yet?” he murmured, voice dripping with mockery as he raised his other hand and the pad of his finger drawing a deliberate line to your collarbone. His knuckles brushed against your neck, featherlight, before he tilted his head and let his fingertip graze the spot where your pulse hammered beneath your skin. “Why is your heart beating like it’s got something to tell me?”

You could only pray the dark concealed the heat rushing to your cheeks as your breath got stuck in your throat. His fingertips grazing your pulse, both on your neck and on your wrist, made you feel like he was simply holding all of you with little effort. Handling your very being, balancing you at the tip of his fingers. And he knew. Oh, that damn smile told you all you needed to know. He tilted his head, his gaze burning through you, scorching your resolve, and your breath came out a shudder. “You’re infuriating” -ly hot, but you didn’t tell him that, of course. “If it bothers you so much, why didn’t you just ask me out instead?”

Awaiting his answer, your heart did a Olympic-level speedrun that he, no doubt, could feel right beneath his fingertips. Mattheo’s grip on your neck tightened slightly, but he didn't say anything. His mind seemed to weigh the words, form them into a sentence. His hesitation gave you a few seconds to compose yourself, and you managed to give him a sharp glare. “What, no clever remark?” you hissed, “No teasing? Merlin, I could be dancing with Harry right now!”

The words were meant to set him off, and set him off they did. His jaw clenched and his breath came in ragged, heavy motions, chest heaving under the strain of keeping it together. “You’re really trying to piss me off now, aren’t you?” he snarled sharply, eyes still boring into yours in the most disarming way.

You felt your composure slip. Gradually, it evaded your fingertips, notwithstanding the surge of anger you felt as all the doubt, all the hesitation, the waiting and the hurt crashed down on you. “Piss you off?” you asked, furious, and fully aware that your anger and slipping self-control were playing right into his little game of cat and mouse. “I’m pissed off!” you hissed, “You only want me when you think you can’t have me!”

Surprisingly, Mattheo seemed just as wound up as you, as his hand wrapped around your wrist fully and he rolled his jaw. “And you only notice me when i’m slipping through your fingers!”

A short, mocking scoff left your throat as you glowered up at him. “Are you even hearing yourself talk right now?” you seethed, “I think I notice you plenty, especially when you pull me into your lap every other day!”

Mattheo breathed a dark chuckle and shook his head at you. “That’s rich coming from the one who insisted I sleep in one bed with her.”

You stared at him angrily, but a sudden realization clawed at your chest. It was hard to admit its existence when it was an almost painful truth, but it's claws dug into your insides, making it hard to ignore. Maybe, the creature whispered into your ear, maybe you are just as bad as him. Maybe, just maybe, you could have asked him instead. maybe, just maybe, you get it. Maybe you would feel like shit too if he had come with another girl.

His lips hovered over yours and you swallowed, looking up into the dark pools of his eyes. "Say you don’t feel it,” he said, an eerie calm laced into his tone, “Say you don’t want me and I’ll leave right now.” He had rid himself of the smirks and chuckles as if of a false costume, raw intensity brimming in his gaze as it flickered down to your lips and your breath hitched audibly.

“Mattheo-”

“There you are! I- oh.”

Both you and Mattheo whipped around at the sound of a voice- Harry’s voice, to be more exact. He was standing in the open doors leading out to the balcony, the two drinks in hand. The flush on his cheeks was only pronounced by the soft glow of the Great Hall. As soon as he gauged the situation - you and Mattheo standing so close to each other a niffler wouldn’t have fitted between you, and Mattheo holding your wrist and neck - his brows pulled into a frown. One that Mattheo matched, eyes narrowing at the intrusion, while your eyes widened, a mix of disappointment and bashfulness coiling in your stomach.

Harry turned to you, eyes flickering over to Mattheo every other millisecond like he couldn’t stop himself. “...Did I, uh- interrupt something?”

“Yes,” sneered Mattheo through gritted teeth. You, on the other hand, quickly broke free from his grasp and smoothed out your dress, your cheeks heating up with embarrassment over being caught in such a compromising position. “No,” you replied quickly, not looking at Mattheo.

Harry seemed to misinterpret your nervous squirming, glancing cautiously from you to Mattheo and back again. “Everything alright?" he asked in an undertone that could mean nothing good- one that you had heard so many times, when people asked you, apprehensively, about your friendship with Mattheo, making no effort to conceal der skepticism.

Mattheo next to you rolled his eyes and gave an impatient click of his tongue. “Relax, Potter, she’s a big girl.”

Harry’s gaze settled on you. “Is he bothering you?” he asked sharply, and you could have rolled your eyes. Harry was no stranger to your mutual affection with Mattheo, had sneered over it many times. This comment was only meant to provoke, but he concealed it with protectiveness, which made you give him a warning look.

Mattheo hummed a low laugh, but the sound had an edge to it that made Harry tense up. “Didn’t realize you were her guard dog, Potter,” Mattheo taunted him from where he was still leaning against the railing, “Should I throw you a bone?”

Before things could escalate between the two, you stepped between them, shooting Mattheo a pleading look over your shoulder. “Go, please.” For a second, something vulnerable, almost like hurt, flashed across his face, but it was quickly replaced with a mocking smile and a predatpory glint in his eyes.

When he reached out, Harry shifted, almost like he wanted to step in, and Mattheo raised an amused brow at him before taking your hand and guiding it to his lips. His lips barely grazed the back of your hand and one could only assume Theo had taught him that this was the proper way- you didn’t know where else he would have learned it but in eighteenth century courtesy books. With one last dangerously gleaming look at you, he shoved past Harry and disappeared somewhere behind the group of giggling Ravenclaw girls.

You flinched slightly when Harry nudged you and looked up at him. “You okay?” he asked, handing you your drink. With a curt nod, you took it and took a long sip that did nothing to clear your head.

“Yeah,” you said, swirling the drink absentmindedly, “Just needed some fresh air.”

“...Right. Hey, look,” Harry said, seeming a little awkward. “Do you want to dance? You seemed a little bummed earlier and…” He trailed off, awaiting your answer.

Quirking a quick smile, you nodded at him. Inside, the band strung up a new tune, quicker. “Sure. After you.”

Mattheo had had enough. As Harry pulled you back into the dancefloor, having finally overcome his sober reluctance, he distinctly felt that if he had to spend another second watching you with him, he would break something. He probably would have. Would have marched right up to Potter and smashed his face into the fucking wall for laying a hand on you, even if it was a platonic one. But the gnawing feeling of guilt stopped him from doing so.

Mattheo had never had much of a conscience worth speaking of- at leat not in his opinion. The avoidance of overly atrocious deeds had never come from within, but as influenced by the need to survive in a rigid social system. Not until he met you had he known such adoration that he would place your needs over his any day. What you deserved was more important than his bloody daydreams. And what you deserved was a fun night- with or without him.

Not that he had been the first to lay a gentler hand on you. He had never known such patience and compassion until he earned your friendship. Such unconditional care that it made you sneak down to the Slytherin dorms in the dead of night to patch him up after a fight because you knew he didn’t take care of himself properly, that he would let the wounds get scabby and turn into scars because he made his body pay for the weight his shoulders had to carry.

He’d relish your touch like a devil, latching onto any small slice of heaven he could find. He found it in your voice, the way you said his name, sometimes amused, sometimes worried, sometimes angry in a way that made him want to drop to his knees and devour you until you were a screaming mess. He found it in your touch, so gentle and never flinching away, and your eyes, the tenderness they held and the fire that burned in them. A fire he would love to burn in if it pleased you.

Mattheo didn’t even realize he was moving at first, until he bumped into Enzo, who frowned at him. “Where are you going, mate? Party’s just getting started.”

“Air,” he grunted shortly and ignored Enzo calling after him. Students shuffled aside hastily as he made his way through them, towards the entrance hall. What he needed now was you, but you were off being twirled around by Potter, so cigarettes would have to do.

Fucking hell.

His fingers slipped into his inside pocket before he had even crossed the entrance hall, where only a few snogging pairs hung around in darker corners. He slipped through the great front door and skipped several steps as he hurried down the main staircase, stopping at a lower level. Impatient fingers pulled a smoke out of his almost empty pack and he ignited it with a flick of his index finger, taking the long drag he’d been craving.

You watched him go. Saw him slipping out of the great hall, fingers already reaching for his pocket in search of one of his beloved cigarettes. You barely noticed it when the song ended and only gave a half-hearted applause, burning to go after Mattheo but unsure how to do so without coming off as rude.

“Hey,” Harry said, nudging you and pointing at something behind you, “The rest is over there. Do you want to join them?” Turning around, you spotted Hermoine, Ron, Ginny and Dean at one of the tables, laughing together.

“Go ahead,” you smiled, the urge to follow Mattheo growing ever stronger. “I’ll join you in a bit, alright?” He didn't question you, only shrugged and took off towards the table while you turned towards the entrance hall, weaving through bodies and clouds of perfume to get to him.

You found him outside, a few steps down the main staircase, leaning against the stone wall. A glowing little dot stood out to you, one that glowed brighter whenever Mattheo took a drag. Crossing your arms over your chest to provide some level of protection against the cold winter breeze, you slowly walked down the steps, heart beating faster the closer you got to him.

Mattheo looked infuriatingly good, leaning lazily against the stone wall, smoke spilling from his lips, his suit crumpled and tie loosened. A few steps away from him, you hesitated, a certain guilt gnawing at you when you saw his scrunched up brows. Your clash earlier had been all but ideal- albeit very adrenaline-inducing - and right now, you wanted nothing more than to make things right. What was important was not some yule ball, it was your friendship.

Working up the courage, you walked down the last steps. He didn’t look up and you took it as an invitation to lean against the wall next to him, a long sigh leaving your lips and clouding the chilly air shortly.

“Finally ditched the golden boy?” Mattheo asked with a casual smirk on his lips, but his eyes looked distinctly tired. Taking a long drag of his cigarette, he let smoke billow into the air before turning to you.

A nervous little smile flashed over your expression and you angled your body towards him. “Golden boys have never really been my type,” you confessed, smoothing over you dress with shaky hands.

“Yeah?” he asked, eyes sweeping your slightly trembling figure. “And what is your type?”

You took another step towards him, your shoulder brushed against his arm and neither of you moved away. The contact settled like gravity. “Certainly no smokers,” you said breathlessly.

He watched your mouth as you spoke, the corner of his lips curling upward. Taking one last drag out of his smoke, he flicked it to the ground and squashed the embers with his shoe. He shifted his weight, the toe of his shoe bumping against yours like he was testing the distance. “I’ll be finished with this then.” His stance seemed relaxed as he leaned against the wall, but the gaze in his eyes was intense as his eyes bore into yours.

When he raised his hand, it was slow, as if he was approaching a scared animal, careful not to set it off by making a rapid movement. Bringing it up to your face, his knuckles grazed your jaw, a featherlight touch, as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “If I had taken you out tonight, I wouldn’t have let you out of my sight.”

Your breath catched when his knuckles ran a line up your jaw, but you didn’t pull away. Without even realizing, you inched even closer to him, his bodywarmth bleeding trough the thin fabric of your dress. A small smile graced your lips as you tilted your head of him, but the challenge was much softer than before. “Well, I’m glad he did, or we wouldn’t be talking right now.”

The hand that had been leaving a row of goosebumps behind on your neck came up to cup your cheek as his breath fanned your face. You could taste the nicotine on your own tongue as your lips parted slightly, as if on instinct. His fingers trailed over the curve of your wrist, idly tracing circles like he was trying to learn your heartbeat by touch. “He doesn’t deserve you,” he said, voice a low rasp.

A frown pulled at your brows, but you had half a mind to ease it with a smile. “And you do?” you asked, trying to grasp what “deserving” meant to him.

But he didn’t return your smile, more serious than you’d seen him all night as he tilted your chin up. “I’d ruin myself trying.”

His forehead came to rest against yours, as if he needed the grounding touch, and you leaned up into him, reciprocating the gesture. Your brain seemed to be a droning mass of nothing, taking up too much space in your head. He muttered something under his breath, a curse, chest heaving just as much as yours. His lips hovered over yours, the space between you charged, every second stretching into eternity. “Say the word,” he muttered, “and I’ll make sure you never think about him again.”

It was the most natural thing to you as your eyes fluttered shut and your hands fisted his shirt- how had they even got there?

“Please.”

Before you could gauge the impact of that one small word, he crashed his mouth against yours, all teeth and desperation, like he had been starving for this. And you had been, too. It was as if a deep craving was finally fulfilled as you kissed him back, barely managing to keep up with the rough movements of his lips. The afteratste of nicotine settled on your tongue, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mind. His hands gripped your waist, fingers digging in, like he needed to anchor himself or he might lose control. They tugged you closer, impossibly close, as if he wants to erase any space that dares exist between you.

His lips moved with bruising intensity against yours and you sighed against them, making him growl. “M- mattheo,” you whispered in between kisses, his name but a breathless plea making his grip tighten on your waist. “I’ve -fuck- I’ve wanted this for so long.”

He cursed against your lips, fingers gripping fistfuls of your dress as if he meant to tear it off you. “Fuck, sweetheart, don’t say stuff like that-” His hands started to roam, one gripping the back of your neck to tilt your head into his desired angle, the other running down your side and latching onto your thigh.

You squeaked against him when he lifted it to wrap your leg around his waits, slotting his hips into the place between your legs. A sudden mewl left your throat and he swallowed it up as if it was the sweetest nectar. The way your body sank into his went to his head, your trust made his ears rush as his fingers curled into the flesh of your thigh. He wanted to break you, yes- but so much more, he wanted to love you.

“Always wanted this, I’ve always wanted you, sweetheart,” he whispered against you, lips wandering down to latch onto your neck.

“If you wanted to have me,” you said, rendered utterly breathless under his teasing touches and experienced lips, “all you ever had to do was ask.”

He groaned against your mouth, the sound rough and guttural, as if kissing you physically hurt and healed all at once. “Fuck, sweetheart,” Mattheo cursed, his lips crashing back onto yours as your breath hitched. He kissed you like he was angry at you, like every push and pull of your lips was part of some unresolved fight he never wanted to win.

You squealed softly when he bit your lower lip, sharp and fleeting, then soothed the sting with a flick of his tongue. His fingers curled into your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head, demanding more. His thumb traced your jaw, a fleeting tenderness that contrasted the way he devoured your mouth. He pulled away for a split second, forehead pressed to yours, voice wrecked when he muttered, “You drive me insane.” -before kissing you even harder.

“Why?” you whined in between kisses, hands running over his chest in search for any kind of support. “Why didn’t you ask me? I-” Another kiss of his shut you right up and you kissed him back with ferocity, mumbling in between his ministrations, “I was hoping you would, I wanted you this- h- hah - this whole time.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he mumblked hastily against your lips, his hands slipping into your hair and tugging to angle your head up at him. “Fuck, ‘m really sorry, sweetheart, that you had to resort to that fucking idiot.”

“‘S fine,” you slurred, your brain completely shutting down when the hand on your thigh slipped under your dress and traced a line up your bare skin, “Harry’s a friend and I like him just fine, but-” The way he fisted your dress in his hands and pulled you flush against you had the words die on your tongue as you felt something hard press against your core.

Shit.

“Say his name one more time and I’ll have mine engraved right about here,” he muttered threateningly, his digits drawing circles on your inner thigh and a pathetic whine left your throat, swallowed up by his eager lips. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he murmured, rolling his hips and making your breath hitch, your knees growing wobbly, “I’ll make sure it’s my name you’ll be screaming tonight.”

“Oh God, Mattheo-” you mewled loudly, thankful for the muffliato charm you’d cast on the door of the empty classroom Mattheo had dragged you into, “It hurts!”

But Mattheo seemed to have little regard for your words, his fingers pistoning in and out of your squelshing cunt as he chuckled against your lips. He had you perched ontop of one of the desks, fingers knuckle deep in your pussy and his lips painting your neck like a canvas. Trembling helplessly in his hold, your second orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave as the overstimulation became almost unbearable and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Oh, does it?” he mocked, false pity laced into his tone as he bit down hard on your neck, making you squeal. His thumb drew circles on your clit and your thighs shook, your hand spushing weakly at his chest. White hot pleasure shot through you, making your cunt clench painfully around his fingers. And there he was, smiling down on you as you completely unraveled in his hold, as your eyes rolled back into your head and your body slumped against his, whimpers of his name falling from your kiss-bitten lips. Yeah, this was how he had imagined the night to go.

“P- please,” you whimpered, fisting his shirt as you squirmed to escape his unrelenting fingers- and finally, finally he had mercy on you, swiping one last finger over your overstimulated clit and pulling you flush against him as his fingers, covered in your slit, brushed over your bruised lips.

“C'mon, sweetheart,” he smirked evilly, “Don’t tell me you’re tired yet?”

A shake of your head was enough for him as he flipped you around onto your belly, bending you over the desk. You could hear a metallic clinking sound and rocked your hips back against him, anticipation curling in your stomach. You’d heard- often to your own dismay - the stories of the girls he’d been with, envying them as you listened to their colorful tales- but now you were on the receiving end of his touches, his kisses, his cock that slapped against your folds in a way that made you jolt against the hard wood of the desk.

“Mattheo,” you breathed, unsure whether it was a plead or a demand. Whatever it was, he seemed all to eager to comply, his hands tightening on your waist. His cockhead was first, slowly pushing through your folds. With a gutteral groan, he slumped against you, fingers digging into your hips so hard you were sure they would leave bruises.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re tight,” he cursed, overcome by the overwhelming urge to rut into you like some animal, to take you raw, make you his completely until you writhed and screamed under him. But he knew he had to take it slower with you- despite all the teasing, you were his precious princess, his best friend, the only one who'd ever loved him unconditionally. And dear god was he going to pay you back.

“Doing real good,” he murmured huskily as you twitched beneath him, hips wiggling as you tried to adjust to his size in a way that didn’t help his restraint in the slightest. You yelped when he delivered a sudden slap to your ass, immediately soothing it over by rubbing gentle circles over it. “Stop squirming, sweetheart,” he growled, leaning over you as he pushed further in, relishing very inch. “Or I might just lose myself.”

“S- sorry,” you apologized so sweetly he could have devoured you then and there. But for once, he could be a man of patience. “A- are you fully in yet?” you asked shyly, looking up at him over your shoulder.

A strained sounding chuckle fell from his lips. “Not even halfway in. Want me to stop?” You shook your head rapidly, though his girth provided your walls with a painful sting. Instead, your fingers curled around the edge of your desk as you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to relax. “You're doing so good, sweetheart,” he groaned huskily against your ear as he leaned over you, slowly sliding another inch in. “Taking me so well.”

A breathless little mewl left your throat and he laughed under his breath, trying to keep his restrain from snapping with the way your warm walls hugged him, drew him in. “Relax f’ me, will you?” he asked, more softly, pressing kisses along your shoulder and onto your earlobe. “Breathe through it, that’s right,” he praised as you tried to relax your muscles around his cock and took slow, though trembling, breaths.

When he finally bottomed out, a gasp for air left your throat and he nearly whined at the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him. Fuck, like you were made for him. Mattheo started moving, slowly, sensually, as his lips whispered praises and confessions into your ear, only half of which you actually registered as your brain grew impossibly fuzzier.

When you breathed a shallow moan, the sting slowly turning pleasurable, his lips latched onto your neck, sucking hard. “Yer trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he asked, slowly rocking his hips against yours. “Feel so good, sweetheart, like you were made f’me.”

You moaned helplessly under him as he kept on talking, meeting his hips and moving yours in the same rhythm. “Always wanted this,” he murmured against your shoulder, his movements steadily growing more intense. He pulled out fully and sunk back in again, making both of you release strangled moans as your hands desperately tried to support yourself against the desk.

“Could barely hold myself back sometimes,” he rasped into your ear as you could feel the pleasure building in your core, his words not helping the mist in your mind. “Dreamed of it, y’know?” When he pulled out tis time, he plunged his cock back in harshly, baking you choke on the moans spilling from your lips. “I knew it was wrong that I rutted into my own fist, thinking about having you exactly like this. Fuck, it was wrong, knew you were way too good for me, but look at you now…”

His hips grew more feverish as they slammed into yours, pleasure and pain coiling in your lower belly as you mewled his name and you could feel him twitch inside you. a string of curses left his lips, and his fingers tug into your waist to ram your hips against his, matching his speed. “Hated seeing you with Potter tonight,” he spat, “Hated seeing his hands on you- god, you have no idea what i would’ve done to him if you hadn’t been there.”

A low growl of a chuckle left his throat and you shivered at the sound, pushing your hips back into his in desperate need for relief. His words had heat pool down, had your walls clench, and he let out a string of curses in return. “Tell me, sweetheart,” he panted, ruthlessly rocking your hips back into his, “Would you let him see you like this? How ‘bout I stuff you so full with cum he can see it run down your thighs tomorrow, how’d you like that? What if he were here right now, huh? Bet he’d love this, wouldn’t he? Bet he’d try to get himself off to the sight of what he can’t have.”

When your thighs started shaking and his name left your lips in a mindless string of moans, he straight up flipped you over, plunging his cock back into you before you could even realize what was happening. You yelped when he threw your legs over his shoulders and your eyes rolled back into your skull as his cock hit spots you hadn’t even known existed. Desperate for some kind of support, you grabbed his shoulders with shaky fingers as you completely unraveled under him- and he drank it in.

Your moans were like music to his ears, touching you was a special kind of heaven. And when your face scrunched up and your thighs shook, when your high hit you like a truck, in spite of his roughness, he interlaced your fingers with his, pinning them above your head and chasing his own high as you fell apart on his cock. “Good fucking girl,” he growled against your ear as you spasmed in his hold.

When the white-hot pleasure suring through you slowly stopped obstructing your field of vision, as you felt yourself come down from your high, you could hear his raw grunts and curses next to your ear as he chased his own high. As he felt his own release approaching, Mattheo pulled out and emptied himself all over your stomach. He stood above you, panting and watching it drip down the round of your belly, marking you as his.

Mabe he’d said that out loud, because you giggled with post-orgasmic bliss. “You’re such a dog, Mattheo!” With a smirk, he slipped your thighs off his shoulders, seeming entirely self-satisfied as he leaned down to press another, more tender kiss onto your lips.

When he parted from you, his eyes held a certain softness that was reserved for moments of quiet comfort between you two, when you’d sit in his bed, hold him in your lap and let him rant about it all- his father, his legacy, this school, the world. But it was all so far away from here. From this classroom, where he held you, where he looked at you as if he’d never seen something so precious, so worth protecting.

Dipping down, he started nibbling on your neck contently, no doubt adding more obvious signs of wreckage than he had already. But you couldn’t think about the consequences, about the stares you’d get tomorrow, no matter how much makeup you slapped onto your neck. Because his voice was rumbling low, next to your ear, as his nose nudged yours. “Wanna be my girlfriend, sweetheart?” And you nodded rapidly, barely able to control the grin tugging at your lips.

Completely out of breath, you slumped against him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His smell was so utterly comforting, the feeling of his chest rising and falling against yours as he, too, slowly recovered from his high. The exhaustion weigh heavy on your bones as you looked up into his brown eyes, reflecting the moonlight that spilled through the window. “Seeing as my ability to walk is probably impaired- will you carry me down to your dorm or do I have to ask Harry?”

The way Mattheo’s eyes glinted dangerously at the words was a promise that the night was far from over.

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[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: Finding out that your ex-best friend might have smelt you in the Amortentia feels as surreal as you smelling him.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: harassment, non-consensual touching (non-sexual), insecurities

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

When you hear the door to the classroom swing open, slam into the wall, and as if on cue a chorus of laughs resound around the room, you know it's James and his imbecile friends.

Your lips thin into a tight-lipped smile as you send Marlene an exhausted look.

"Gentlemen," Slughorn drones on as he turns to look at the boys, who comedically trip over themselves to find their spots in the crowd of students, "You're late." 

"Evidently, Professor." Sirius Black quips and nudges his shoulder into James. The latter smirks.

James has somehow found his way next to you. He hasn't done it on purpose but when he turns his head and sees you beside him, his smirk turns into a wide smile.

A smile that never fails to make your knees shake and your heart feel like it could explode.

"Y/n," James whispers. 

"Hi Potter," you roll your eyes, hiding a smile behind faux frustration.

You and James aren't friends. Well, unless you counted the years from ages four to eleven, when you had been inseparable. You'd grown apart these last years and while you'd cried over your lost friendship in first year, you had decided it was for the best to distance yourself from him anyway. 

Having a crush on your best friend is incredibly cliché.

Still, although you weren't friends in the same way as you had been, James has always been kind to you.

He says hello to you when he sees you in the hallway. You have had pleasant conversations in passing, and when his family occasionally has yours over – for old times sake – you both sit on the balcony outside his window and talk as if nothing has changed. 

You shift away from James a little, feeling too close to him, and cross your arms. You turn your attention to Slughorn as he clears his throat and lifts the lid from the pot, "Very well then,"

His sentence is drowned out by the soft, delicate smell that fills the room. You pin-point the scent of broom-polish immediately. Rosemary, vanilla, bergamot and cedar. Your expression falls. Bergamot and cedar. Your head spins and you wonder if James put on too much cologne this morning or if — 

Your mind suddenly goes completely blank when you feel James's breath against your ear, uttering exactly what you had been wondering, but this time about you, "Hey, did you put on more perfume than usual? I can smell it from here," his voice is teasing and you feel just a little fainter than you already had been. 

"Amortentia," Slughorn interrupts, "The most powerful love potion to exist. It smells differently to everyone, depending on what attracts them — or sometimes who attracts them," He continues on, explaining the dangers of the potion, but you aren't listening anymore. 

You look up. James has gone quiet and he's staring at the bubbling liquid, a vacant look in his eyes. Your heart clenches and you turn your head, inclining it down. You must have heard him wrong. James must have been confused.

A pit forms in your stomach when James moves away from you, leaving your side feeling empty. You hear him laugh with Remus and your hand squeezes around your arms. 

You hadn't worn any perfume this morning.

"Hey, Y/n/n," You're pulled from your thoughts when William, another Gryffindor, comes up from behind you and shoves into your shoulder so he's standing next to you.

"I knew I'd smell someone as hot as you in there," He teases, leaning in close. "Just like fucking vanilla," Williams brings his hand into your hair, twirling some strands in his fingers as he presses his nose close to your temple and inhales. 

"Hey," You move your head away, feeling disgusted. William just barks out a laugh and his arm extends to grab yours. Suddenly, you're almost pushed to the side when James stands in front of you and shoves William away. The boy bumps into the cauldron and the Amortentia spills all over the floor. 

"All three of you," Slughorn suddenly booms, his cheeks flushed crimson, "McGonagall. Now."

So you find yourself standing in the middle of James and William in McGonagall's office. The older woman is sitting at her desk, her arms crossed as she stares at you all from behind her small glasses. She looks at William first considering his shirt is drenched in the thick liquid from the Amortentia, "What happened?"

"Potter shoved me," Williams states quickly, glaring at James.

"And I'd do it again," James snarls, crossing his arms. 

McGonagall looks utterly exhausted at their bickering and turns her attention to you. "What about you, Miss Y/l/n, care to explain what happened?"

William sends you a dark look, but when you look at James his expression is soft. "William made me uncomfortable in class and when James saw, he accidentally shoved him into the Amortentia and it spilled all over."

"It wasn't an accident! He did it on purpose!" William argues like a child and James sends him a knowing smirk.

"Oh yeah, the shove was intentional," he grins wolfishly, "Although, I didn't mean to knock the potion over, Minnie," James looks over at McGonagall and this time he looks a little sheepish. McGonagall just stares at him as if he has gone insane and then she looks at you.

"You can leave, Miss Y/l/n," she says and looks back at the boys and hums, "You two may not."

You glance at James a little nervously but he sends you a reassuring smile. So, you ignore William's loud complaining and thank McGonagall as you walk out of her classroom.

* * *

A few hours later, when you're walking out of the Great Hall after dinner, you and your friends run into James again. He's also with his friends, leaning against the wall, and they're laughing obnoxiously loud.

However, when James sees you his smile widens. "Ladies," he says, crossing his arms cheekily.

"Gentlemen," your lips curl into a smirk as you nod at Sirius, Remus, and Peter. James tilts his head at his friends, his expression quirking almost as if he's annoyed that you mentioned them and not him. 

"You feeling okay?" James asks. 

You stare at him, trying to understand exactly what he means.

Does he really care or is he only asking because he's in trouble because of you. Is it mocking?

You start to overthink and James can sense it. So, he moves a little closer to you and you can smell his cologne. It sends heat creeping up your neck.

He asks again. "After what happened with William," he whispers, "when he made you uncomfortable. Are you okay?" James looks genuine and you see his hand hesitating to touch your arm.

You look up at him, staring into his eyes, "O-Oh, yeah. I'm fine. I was just - I didn't think anyone would have smelt me in that potion," you laugh, rambling because that's what you do when you're nervous. You can see James's expression shift into a small smile.

"You'd be surprised," he says, rubbing his nape, "Hey, can we talk in private? I wanted to ask you something?"

Once you say yes, you find yourself in a small, empty, classroom with James. You lean against a desk, hand gripping the edge as you stare at him. "What's up?" you ask. James has never asked you to talk like this.

"My mum is having one of her family dinners for Christmas," James starts, "I wanted to invite you, personally," he adds, as if he's been rehearsing. 

Usually, his mother will invite yours and then by proxy you'll show up. But, this is different. "You want me to come?" your eyebrow raises in confusion, "Personally?"

"Yeah," he sounds unsure, "I mean we're friends, right?"

Is that what we are, you want to ask him but you don't. "I didn't think we were friends anymore," You say honestly and James's expression falls.

He fiddles with his hands nervously but walks closer until he's directly in front of you. You lean away from him and into the desk, chin tilted up to look at him. 

"I'm an idiot," he whispers, looking at you intensely, "I shouldn't have let you slip out of my hands like that. I, well, miss you, a lot."

You listen to him with harsh breaths, trying to understand where this all comes from and why now.

James's hand reaches out and hovers over your cheeks until he holds you and brings you closer to his face. Your eyes round. You're so sure he'll kiss you with how close you are and by the way he's looking at you. You don't have time to make up your mind if you'd want to kiss him or not, because instead, he guides your cheek to his chest and his arms wrap around you. 

He crushes you into a hug. 

Your breath escapes you in a sigh, "James?"

"Y/n," he says your name smoothly and soothes a hand down your hair, "You smell like vanilla and cinnamon. With just a hint of freshly-mowed grass, probably because whenever I see you after a Quidditch match you always have some grass in your hair, right here," James says in a whisper and his finger traces behind your ear.

"Usually from a small tumble," he adds, "You're so clumsy sometimes."  

You pull away only to have him hold you closer. 

"I can't keep pretending I don't think about you," he admits and that sends all emotions crashing over you. You stare at him, lips parted and eyebrows creased, as you try and understand the meaning behind the words. "I smelt you in the Amortentia," James admits.

"You smelt me? You're joking."

James suddenly frowns and he watches as you practically try and sink into the desk behind you. He can take a hint and he moves away. "What? No?" 

You feel your cheeks burn hot with embarrassment. "You aren't joking?"

James's face softens and he smiles. "Of course I'm not – I smelt you and also your perfume which," his smile turns into a smirk, "I can tell you aren't wearing right now." James chuckles happily, his eyes crinkling in the corners and your heart flutters. "Merlin I gave myself away in that classroom, didn't I, love?" 

Your insides become mush at the nickname and you find yourself nodding. 

James looks at you fondly even when he says, "I understand if you don't feel the same. If I'm not the boy you like or a boy you want. I have been a foolish ass for the majority of our time here at school. I've ignored you and worse than that, I let myself forget how lucky I was to have you as my friend and I'm so sorry."

As you hear his words, you can feel tears brim in your eyes. James's fond smile disappears and he starts to panic. "Hey, hey, hey!" his hands cup around your cheeks without even thinking. "I don't want to make you cry, love. Y-you're okay," he promises frantically. 

James is so close. His cologne has invaded your senses until you can't think clearly. All you can do is lean in closer until your nose brushes his. James is surprised but when he looks into your eyes, his body relaxes as he understands what you want. You like to think it's all the years you were friends that makes it so easy for James to understand.

"You want me to kiss you?" he whispers, his voice husky and low.

You feel warm all over as his arm slides behind you and he holds your lower back, waiting for a yes so he can pull you closer. You nod, smiling. You wonder if I have to tell him he's the one you smelled in the potion or if he'll understand by the way you kiss him. 

James's lips press onto yours. He's testing the waters, making sure he's not moving too quickly or too slowly. You let your hand find his hair as you pull him closer. James's hand wraps around you and in the passion, he hoists you up onto the desk behind you and you pull him in.

You kiss him like you've never kissed anyone and it takes your hand on his chest to snap James back into reality. He gently disconnects your lips and leans his forehead on yours.

His eyes are still closed when he says, "Shh, we have all the time in the world. I don't plan on letting you slip away from me again, Y/n," he says it like a promise. Like a prayer. 

Finally, you speak, "James. I missed you," you admit in a whisper. 

James holds you closer. "I missed you more. You don't know how much you mean to me." 

You laugh, feeling how close he is and how badly he doesn't want to drop your hand. "I think I can guess," you say teasingly.

James shakes his head. "My love goes beyond any words I could possibly muster." 

You stare at him with a raised eyebrow. "Since when is James Potter such a hopeless romantic?" 

James grins, his hand sliding down to your thigh as he draws soothing circles on your skin, "He's always been a romantic, darling. He just hasn't had the chance to show you," he whispers and quickly kisses the tip of your nose. 

"Well, he can start now," you smile.

James nuzzles his nose into your shoulder. "So, does this mean that we're friends again?"

You pull away and send him a playful look. "Can this mean we're more than friends now?"

James looks into your eyes and deep in his brown ones, you can see his sincerity, "We'll be whatever you want, love," he says. He hugs you close and your face is buried in his neck. You sniff, your smile widening.

You whisper into his neck, "Bergamot and cedar."

James chuckles, still holding you, "What was that, love?"

"Nothing," you smile, simply content with holding him. 

[ravenclaw-for-all-seasons]

His Soft Spot (3) - Mattheo Riddle

The four of you were lounging in the Slytherin common room when the conversation turned to the upcoming Yule Ball. Theo and Enzo were discussing who they might ask when you casually sighed, stretching your arms over your head.

“Haven’t got a date yet,” you mused, your voice carrying a teasing lilt as you glanced at them.

There was a beat of silence before Mattheo turned to you, his brows furrowed. “What?”

You shrugged. “I said, I haven’t got a date yet.”

Mattheo’s frown deepened, looking genuinely confused. “What the hell do you mean you don’t have a date? You’re my girlfriend.”

You bit back a smirk. “Well, yeah,” you said smoothly, tilting your head at him. “But unless someone asks me, I don’t technically have a date, do I?”

Mattheo blinked at you, his mind clearly short-circuiting as he tried to process your words. “But… you’re going with me.”

You stood up, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips, your smirk widening when you pulled back. “Am I?” you whispered, before turning on your heel. “I’ll be in the library.”

With that, you walked off, leaving Mattheo sitting there, staring after you like you’d just spoken in Parseltongue.

“What the fuck just happened?” he muttered, completely lost.

Theo and Enzo exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.

“Oh, mate,” Theo said, shaking his head. “She wants you to ask her.”

Mattheo still looked confused. “But why? She knows she’s mine. Why do I need to ask?”

Enzo smirked. “Because she wants the grand gesture, obviously. She wants to be courted, you idiot.”

Realization finally dawned on Mattheo’s face, and then—almost instantly—his expression darkened with something entirely different. Possessiveness.

“Oh, hell no,” he muttered, his jaw clenching. “If she thinks for even one second that someone else might try and take her—” He stood up so fast his chair nearly toppled over. “I need to make sure everyone knows she’s mine.”

Theo laughed. “And what exactly are you gonna do?”

Mattheo’s lips curled into a dark smirk, his eyes gleaming with something mischievous. “I’m gonna make sure she never forgets who she belongs to.”

And with that, he stalked off, already planning something that would make sure no one even thought about asking you to the Yule Ball.

That evening, Mattheo sat in the common room, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he plotted. Theo and Enzo lounged nearby, watching with amusement as he scribbled something on a piece of parchment, crumpled it up, and then started again.

“She really got to you, huh?” Theo smirked, tossing a chocolate frog in the air and catching it with his mouth.

Mattheo didn’t even look up. “She thinks she can walk around saying she doesn’t have a date?” he muttered, shaking his head. “Nah. She’s about to get the grandest fucking invitation Hogwarts has ever seen.”

Enzo raised an eyebrow. “Just so we’re clear, this is a Yule Ball invitation, not a marriage proposal, yeah?”

Mattheo shot him a glare before refocusing on his task. He wasn’t just going to ask you—no, he was going to make damn sure that no one in this entire castle would dare even think about asking you first.

The next morning, you were making your way to the Great Hall for breakfast, completely unaware of what was waiting for you. As soon as you stepped inside, the entire room went silent.

Your brows furrowed. “What the—?”

Then, you saw it.

At the center of the Great Hall, hovering in midair for everyone to see, was an enormous banner made of swirling green and silver smoke, charmed to hover like a Dark Mark in the sky. But instead of a skull and serpent, the words spelled out:

Y/N L/N—YOU’RE MINE. MEET ME AT THE CLOCK TOWER AFTER CLASS. WE HAVE A BALL TO ATTEND.

– M.R.

Your jaw dropped.

The hall erupted into whispers, students staring between you and the display. The Gryffindor table looked horrified, while the Slytherins were either smirking or looking vaguely impressed.

At the far end of the room, you spotted Mattheo at the Slytherin table, leaning back lazily in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, smirking like he had just declared victory in battle. Theo and Enzo sat beside him, shaking their heads, clearly so done with his antics but enjoying the show nonetheless.

You exhaled through your nose, biting your lip to stop yourself from smiling. Of course he had to be dramatic about it. Of course he had to make sure everyone in the school knew who you belonged to.

With an exaggerated sigh, you shook your head and made your way over to him. The second you were close enough, Mattheo reached out, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you effortlessly into his lap.

"See, princess?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Now everyone knows you have a date."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the warmth spreading through your chest. "Possessive much?"

Mattheo grinned, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your neck, not caring that half the school was watching. “Obsessive,” he corrected. “No one else was even allowed to think about asking you.”

Theo, shaking his head, muttered, “You really don’t do anything halfway, do you?”

Enzo just laughed. “This is why no one else even tries to compete with him.”

You turned to look at Mattheo, raising an eyebrow. "You do realize I was always going with you, right?"

Mattheo smirked. "Yeah, but I had to make sure no one else got any ideas." His grip on your waist tightened. "You're mine, Y/N. Always." His expression softened slightly. “Besides, I know you wanted the gesture and if it’s important to you then it’s important to me.”

You sighed dramatically but leaned down and kissed him anyway. “Lucky for you,” you murmured against his lips, “I like when you get possessive.”

His smirk grew. “Oh, princess, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

[cheralith]

from slytherin!kaiser au, he finds out one year when you and him are students that you've been asked out to the yule ball during the quinquennial triwizard tournament and he tweaks the Absolute Hell Out. i'm taking like ferocious plays in quidditch where he's just absolutely ravaging everyone on the field and hexing anyone who even slightly crosses him. he's frustrated and the most irritating thing is that he doesn't know why. he just knows that he felt surges of anger and vexation after he had overheard in the dining hall that you were asked out by a stupid beauxbatons boy and that you had to absolute nerve to accept his invitation. every time he sees you in his classes, the familiar surge of aggravation boils back up again just at the mere sight of you, even if you both haven’t began your bickering yet.

he’s already pissed off that your best friend, yoichi isagi, was chosen as hogwarts’s contender in the tournament and not him, so for you to be running around collecting attention from people outside hogwarts had upset him even further. he sees you one weekend in hogsmeade with a strange boy that he’s never seen before, so it’s safe to say he’s the beauxbatons boy that your friends were rumoring about earlier. ness’s words are absolutely drowned out as he focuses on the unintelligible conversation you and him have, his fist tightening around his wand. figuring he should take his anger out on something else rather than poor ness for the fifth time this week, he conjures a jelly-leg jinx just before he turns on his heel, snickering when you exclaim out when your companion suddenly crumples to the ground unexpected. 

ness obviously has noticed kaiser’s short-temperament that he’s harbored for the past few weeks, he’s sure everyone has. he does not do a very good job of disguising it, considering his azure eyes absolutely burn into the back of your head during dinner. 

“are you jealous?” ness suggests, squeaking out when kaiser whips his head at him as soon as his friend finishes his sentence.

“huh?” he scowls, “fuck off. i don’t get jealous. why would i get jealous? that’s dumb. if anything, (l/n) should be the jealous one since i bagged myself that hot gryffindor girl—what was her name? fuck, i forgot already.”

ness blinks at his friend’s babbling as he stuffs a piece of meat in his mouth and chews it with obvious aggravation, his icy stare still lingering onto you and how you laugh at yoichi’s joke. he sighs, moving kaiser's wand a little further away from him just in case the slytherin chaser decides to cast another jinx on the poor boy again.

[moonstruckme]

Could you do a scenario of reader comforting sirus after he gets an injury while playing Quidditch and has to sit out a lot of games?

Thanks for requesting!

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 701 words

Sirius hardly pauses his sulking to mutter a quiet, “thanks,” when you return with his hot cider. 

Remus scoffs. “Nice, Pads.” 

“What?” 

“You’re just so sweet to your girlfriend.” 

“It’s okay,” you say, sitting next to Sirius with a smile. “It’s his first match being barred from the pitch, I get it.” You fix your boyfriend with a look. “I won’t be patient forever, though.” 

Sirius looks genuinely contrite. “Sorry.” You accept his apology kiss, but he scowls when a first year nearly trips on his cast. “Fuck, is this thing bloody invisible?” 

“Easy,” Remus cautions, though both he and you shoot stern looks at the first year. 

“Wanna turn sideways?” you offer. “I could hold it in my lap?” 

Sirius perks up some. “You gonna give me a foot massage, gorgeous?” 

“Merlin,” Remus mutters, scanning the student section for Lily. 

“I don’t really see how that would be possible…” You raise your eyebrows, smiling when Sirius half turns in his seat to plonk his injured leg in your lap. “I was thinking more like I could draw on it. Any tattoos you’ve been wanting on this leg?” 

Most of Gryffindor has already had a turn signing Sirius’ cast. It’s been on since the match last weekend, when a bad fall had broken Sirius’ leg badly enough that Pomfrey eventually had to send him out of the infirmary with skele-gro to heal what she couldn’t. It’ll be on for another couple weeks at least, and between you and James the white plaster is beginning to run out of space. 

“Hm.” Sirius leans over, considering. You’re glad the distraction is working. He’s been quiet and sullen all week because he’s had to miss quidditch training, and you’re sure his melancholy is twice as bad having to miss out on an actual match. “What about a dragon?”

“I could maybe do that.” You fish a marker out of your bag. “What sort of dragon?” 

Sirius’ mood sinks again when the match starts and the players fly out onto the pitch, but as it gets going and Gryffindor starts to score points, he gets into it. He roars with the rest of the crowd, picks up a chant about house pride, and, though he shouts a few obscenities at the beater filling in for him when a bludger gets too close to Bell, he still smiles when James points at him after scoring a goal. A real smile, bright and heart-fluttering. 

Near the end of the game, Sirius looks rather contented. He sips his second cup of cider while you draw daisies in between the other doodles on his cast. 

“They’d have more points if I were out there,” he says, rather mildly. 

Remus nearly snorts. “Yeah? How do you figure?” 

“I’d have sent a bludger towards Malfoy ages ago. There’s been lots of opportunities. Marlene’s holding her own, though,” he acknowledges. “And there are some advantages to being off the pitch for a little while.” 

You catch the syrupy quality to his voice, and turn to find him looking at you. You raise your eyebrows. “Do tell.” 

“Well, the cider, for one.” Sirius holds up his cup, as though that’s obvious. “Can’t usually have that during a match.” 

“Mm, you’re welcome.” 

“Did I not say thank you?” He leans over to nose at your neck. Remus respectfully looks back to the match. “Thank you, baby. Really. It’s great.” 

“I didn’t make it.” You grin at him. “What are the other things?” 

Sirius hums. “No early morning training. I get to have breakfast with my girl.” 

“No afternoon training on the weekends, either.” 

“Ah, see? You’re catching on.” 

“Don’t talk down to me,” you laugh. “You’re the one who’s been giving everyone the cold shoulder all week, Black.” 

“I know.” Sirius pulls his face from beneath your jaw. The playfulness is mostly gone from his expression, his eyes deep blue and full of apology. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to give anyone the cold shoulder, I just…” 

“It’s okay,” you say easily. You lean over, kissing the top of his head. “Really, I get it. You alright?” 

Sirius sighs, looking out over the pitch. “Yeah.” 

You rest your cheek on his hair. “Good.”

[marauder-misprint]

Eek I’m the one that asked about requests, so excited you’re taking them!

My idea was fem!reader x whichever marauder you want (not Pete sorry not sorry) where the reader is flirty but not in a hitting on everyone and pickup lines type of way. It’s in a she’s very friendly, likes to give out compliments just cause she wanted to, and is just warm and open to people type of way.

Ngl im a sucker for some angst with a happy ending so if that somehow works with whatever idea you come up with that would be cool but no pressure!

I hope this sounds like something you’d wnjiy writing but again no pressure at all<3

I hope this has that kind of vibe you were going for! Thank you for being my first request - I'm very excited and very nervous for this. ♡

Sunshine Incarnate

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

1.8k words

cw: fluff, angst

“God, she’s such a fucking tease,” Sirius sighs, leaning back in a plush armchair in the library.

“Who is?” Remus asks, not looking up from his book.

“Her,” he answers, gesturing toward you. “Little Miss Sunshine herself.”

Remus’ gaze shoots up, first looking at Sirius and then at you. You were talking with some Ravenclaw boy, absorbed in the conversation and oblivious to the rest of the library.

“A tease?” Remus asks.

Sirius hums. “Whenever you talk to her, she gives you these eyes. Then she’ll give you some flirty comment and walk away. Fucking. Tease.”

“Don’t talk about her that way,” Remus growls, still not looking away from you.

“Remus, you’ve experienced what he’s talking about though, right?” Peter asks. “She sits next to you in Herbology.”

Remus has experienced the eyes that Sirius is describing. When you talked to someone, they had your entire attention. You were fully engaged. He’d also been on the receiving end of your compliments before as well; he replayed them in his head when he was feeling low. But Remus would be an idiot to ignore that you did this with everyone. 

“Oh my god, I love your hair like that!”

“That’s brilliant! You’re a genius.” 

“I haven’t read that book before. Is it any good?” “Yeah, It’s my favorite.” “Yeah? Tell me about it.”

It’s who you are. As Sirius had called you, you are Little Miss Sunshine. You brightened every room you entered and made everyone feel important. Remus didn’t think there was a single person in all of Hogwarts who didn’t like you. How could they? 

“Remus?” Peter repeats, tossing a crumpled piece of parchment at him.

“Huh? What?”

“Wormy asked you about Sunshine’s eyes and you zoned,” James says. He’s busy working on an essay that the rest of the group had already finished. 

“Of course. Yes. Although I think it’s called active listening,” Remus says, sounding more irritated than he intended. “Something you could work on,” he adds on in a grumble. 

“My ears work just fine, thank you very much,” Sirius says. 

Then his face lights up and he waves at you. You had briefly turned away from the Ravenclaw boy and Sirius’ wave caught your eye. You wave back, excuse yourself and make your way to the Gryffindors. 

“Hi!” you say cheerfully. “Remus, that sweater looks really soft.”

His face flushed at your words. He could barely mutter out a thanks. 

“What’re you working on?” you ask, standing next to Remus. You’re looking at the pages of the book he’s reading, hoping to see a title at the top of the pages but there’s nothing to go off of, not even a diagram to say if it was a Herbology or Charms book. 

“That damned Potions essay,” James answers. 

“Good thing you’re not too shabby in that class then,” you say with a smile. “Can’t be too difficult.”

James looks up from his essay to return your smile. “It’s not. Just annoying to do.”

“Annoying to do is my Divination dream journal!” you reply with a giggle. “Like I need a teacher knowing what happens in my subconscious.”

“I’d like to know what happens in your subconscious,” Sirius says, now leaning forward. 

You give him an eye roll. “Become a Divination tutor and maybe. Remus, did you do that Herbology worksheet yet?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I did. Yesterday.” 

“Shoot, I was hoping we could work on it together. You’re so much better at Herbology than I am.”

“Oh, it’s not too difficult,” he says, briefly looking up from his book to give you a smile.

You’re already looking at him with those eyes and a smile. Butterflies take flight in his stomach. He has to look away quickly, despite not wanting to. 

“Okay,” you say, bouncing on your toes. “I’ll see you later.”

As you walk away, Peter hits Remus with a roll of parchment.

“Are you daft?” he whispers, unsure if you’re out of earshot yet. “She was flirting with you.”

He shakes his head. “No, she wasn’t.”

“She wanted to work on Herbology homework with you.”

“Because we share the class? And I’m smart?”

“You’re daft,” James confirms.

The rest of the afternoon and into the evening, Remus is replaying the conversation. Had you been flirting with him? Actually flirting or being your kind self? Even if you were flirting with him, you’d certainly stop as soon as you found out that he was a werewolf. Sunshine incarnate could not be with someone who turns with the moon. He was Moony for goodness sake. But she had complimented both his sweater and Herbology skills in one conversation with only James also receiving a compliment. How had he earned two compliments over Sirius? With all of your kindness and Sirius’ natural charisma, you two usually bantered like an entertaining yet sickening tennis match. 

“You know, the things I would do to her if she said the word,” Sirius says, bringing Remus out of his thoughts. 

“Still on about Sunshine, are you?” James asks.

“Still on about Evans?” Sirius retorts.

“Would it kill you to shut up and stay away from her?” Remus snaps.

Sirius and James shoot him a confused look. He had been mostly quiet since leaving the library, but it was Remus. He just did that sometimes. 

“Stay away from her?” Sirius repeats. “From Madam Sunshine herself? Why would I do that?”

“She’s the sweetest,” James adds with a smirk. 

“Yeah, I know,” Remus grumbles. “She doesn’t need you assholes to bring her down.”

“I’m not bringing her down,” James says defensively.

“Just leave her out of your… fantasies.”

“Why?” Sirius presses.

“Just, it’s… it’s you,” Remus says, gesturing wildly. 

“Yeah, and?” Sirius asks, leaning forward toward Remus with narrowing eyes. 

“You’re messy.” Remus pauses. “We’re messy.”

“So we’re all staying away from her?” Peter asks. 

“I, uh, I guess so.” 

Remus couldn’t tell his three closest friends to stay away from her because they were messy and not include himself, possibly the messiest of the group. But, god, he wanted to be close to you. He wanted to hold you and be held by you. He wanted to kiss your perfect smile that was ever present on your perfect lips. He wanted to be the reason your gorgeous eyes lit up. He wanted you to look for him in the room. He wanted you to be his sunshine. 

Sirius shares a knowing look with James and Peter that Remus misses. Though he had tried to be subtle, his friends know when Remus is down bad, and he is for you. 

---

In Remus’ presence, you’re no longer a topic of discussion. The boys successfully steer all conversations away from you. Remus doesn’t think anything of it, assuming they actually listened to him and are staying away from you and all your perfectness. 

That is, until you walk over and sit next to Remus at lunch. You set your books down gently and give the boys a smile.

“That’s our cue to leave. See you in Dark Arts, Moony,” Sirius says with a grin. James and Peter follow him away from the table, leaving you alone with him. 

“That was… weird,” Remus mumbles, watching them leave before turning his attention back to you. 

He tries to hide the confusion on his face, but you see it anyway.

“Did you not… did you not ask me to practice nonverbal spells with you?”

Remus stares at you blankly. “No?”

You pull out a piece of parchment and hand it to him.

“I got this at breakfast.”

It was a note, in Sirius’ handwriting no less, asking you to meet at lunch to practice spells. When he looks up from the note, you are biting your lip with a hopeful look on your face. 

“Even if it’s not from you, would you mind practicing? I’m rubbish at them and, well, you’re great at everything.” 

Remus feels his face heat at the compliment. 

“You’re not rubbish at them.”

“No, I really am! I try them all the time and they never work! I’ve tried to levitate notes to you in Transfiguration and the stupid notes never lift more than a centimeter off the desk!” you ramble.

“Notes… to me?” 

It’s your turn to blush. You had never successfully passed a note to him. The notes that never made it to him often had compliments on them; the most recent had been to ask him to Hogsmeade. But when you continuous failed to get them to him, you had taken that as a sign from the universe that it wasn’t meant to be, but you weren’t one to give up easily. Maybe you were misreading the signs and you needed to go to him for help. So when you received the note from fake Remus, you were over the moon. 

“Oh, yeah. Just little comments about lessons. Nothing too important,” you lie. 

“You were trying to give me notes…” Remus mutters, still in disbelief that you were writing notes to him in the first place, even if they were ‘little comments.’

“Yes?”

You’re not sure what gives you the boldness, but you dig through your bag again and pull out some of the notes. You’re not sure why you kept them, but you did. 

“Okay, little comments, yes. About the lessons, not really.”

You hold out one for him to take.

You mastered teacup to gerbil quickly. You’re amazing!

“That, uh, that should be the first one.”

His hands are shaking as he reads it over and over. 

“You kept them?”

You nod, a little unsure. He reaches out and takes the rest from your hands. You feel your blush grow as he reads each other. It’s only a slight comfort that his blush is also increasing with each note. 

He looks up at you with a curious expression that’s topped with hopeful eyes.

“You were going to ask me to Hogsmeade?”

You open your mouth to speak but words don’t come out. You nod.

“If the offer still stands, I’d, uh, I’d love you. I’d love to. Ahem. I’d love to go to Hogsmeade with you.”

You’re certain your face is as red as his. 

“This weekend then?”

“Yeah,” he breathes. 

You lean in and kiss his cheek, your own boldness surprising you yet again.

“We can, erm, work on nonverbals later. I’ll see you later, Remus.” 

He watches you leave the Great Hall in a hurry. His hand slowly comes up to touch the spot where you had kissed him. Maybe, just maybe, you had been flirting with him. 

---

“How did that go, Moony?”

“You are bastards. All of you.”

“How did it go?”

“She kissed me,” he says, still blushing furiously.

“I told you!” Sirius cheers. “I told you he was projecting.”

“Projecting?”

“Mate, you called us messy. I mean, yeah, we are, but it’s your tell.”

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

ISTJ

Gryffindor

True Neutral

Capricorn Sun, Scorpio Moon, Aries Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・Closed off but kind, it took a while for the two of you to evolve into something romantic

・Unspoken love; his way of showing how he feels is through action...fixing things for you, watching your back - making sure you're safe, guarded. But also making sure that you've eaten, you're hydrated and healthy.

・Your smile gives him heart palpatations.

・Nights would involve quietly tending to each other's wounds—physical and emotional—and, on rare occasions, him opening up about “the time before.”

・Forehead Touches

・When you're at home, he's always fiddling with something; a radio, guitar, he's even trying his hand at sewing.

・Tries his best not to smile when you do something sassy. But you always see the corners of his mouth quirk upward.

・Pretends to be cranky when you call him 'old man.'

・You have a brilliant relationship with Ellie; she feels safe with you, like she could come to you with anything.

・Whenever you ask him to play the guitar, he grumbles and groans.

・And then plays something so beautiful, you nearly cry.

・Neither of you sleep well if you aren't together. The rhythm of your breathing is the only thing that cuts through his ghosts.

・His pure happiness is rare, and therefore sacred.

・Ties your shoelaces, buttons your clothes, dries your tears

・Loves doing domestic things with you; changing the bedding, hanging the washing, cooking together

・Pretends to grown when you act needy for attention. But he loves feeling wanted.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

You Fell First, But He Fell Harder

The Moon and His Star

Husband Is Scary To Everyone But Me

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Timeless Love

Unbreakable Bond

Bickering and Banter

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

The Chain by Fleetwood Mac

Walkin' Back To Georgia by Jim Croce

Milk and Honey by Jackson C. Frank

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞

・Joel likes overpowering you.

・He'll slap your ass as you're walking past him (not out in public though)

・Shoving you down onto the bed and smirking as you wiggle backward:

"Nowhere to go, baby."

・Likes having your juices in his beard after he's gone down on you

・The smell of you drives him nearl animalistic; he has to have your scent on him

・When he cums, he makes a very gutteral sound, pulls your hair and bites your shoulder.

・He stays inside you until you've both let the high completely come down... well really he still likes to bury himself in you for as long as you'll let him

・Loves cockwarming.

・Would crawl on hands and knees if you asked him to

・Kisses the arch of your foot when you're on the bed, limbless and spent after fucking

・Slow and deep rather than rough and fast; but don't think he won't fuck you into the bed. He loves doing that after you've been bratty all day