#harry x hermione x neville x ron

[mermaidinthecity]

Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows Part 2: Stills (2011)

[fredgeorgegredfeorge]

Green-Eyed Monster | F.W.

For the first time ever, Fred Weasley finds himself jealous over the only person in the world he needn’t worry a bit about.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x f!reader

Word count: 8k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, oral + fingering (f!receiving, (lots of) dirty talk, name calling, praise/degradation, dom/sub dynamic, some nipple play, touch of a breeding kink, possessiveness/jealousy, some toxic themes, established relationship, swearing, drinking, arguing, angst, fluff, sorry if miss any!

first hp fic in a very long time! what better to post than this mess (jealous, possessive, sexy mess). basically pwp—let me know what you think! (Barely edited at all lmao my apologies)

You sat quietly at George’s desk, eyes focused on a piece of parchment as you both tried to break down the recipe George had scribbled down. There was a hiccup, a hitch in the plan of brewing a batch of Euphoria Elixir for the joke shop, and it was pushing back your plans to place them on the shelves this week. After a few hours of quiet deliberation on his lonesome, George decided to seek your help in hopes of speeding up the process.

So, the two of you put your heads together and re-read the ingredient list a million times, wondering how the hell it turned out murky green instead of sunshine-y yellow. The cauldron sat smoldering across the room, a rain cloud above it as the bubbly mixture spilled over the sides. Upon first glance, you had stated the absolute obvious.

“Isn’t that supposed to be a rainbow?” You raised an eyebrow, looking at your brother-in-law as he collapsed in his chair.

“Yes, you git.” George rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. You shot him a sharp look, warning him to be nice if he wanted your help. You knew George didn’t mean any of the insults—he was simply frustrated and maybe even a little embarrassed that he could not figure it out by himself. “Sorry, Y/N.” He conceded, realizing he came on a bit too strong.

“S’alright.” You assured him, stepping towards the desk where he sat. “Where’s the ingredient list? We’ll start there.” You offered, knowing you would help no matter how poor of a mood he was in. You loved George almost as much as you loved Fred, if you had to compare. Even if it was in a different way, you had a hard time refusing him when he used the same charm tactics as his twin brother.

After spending so many years in a relationship with Fred, it would be obscure for you not to have a bond with the closest person to him. Over the years, he’d surpassed a friend and had grown into your own brother. You were certain that no matter where life took you and Fred, George would always hold a special place in your heart. When the two opened their shop in Diagon Alley, you volunteered most of your free time to help them in any way you could, and whether it was tweaking new products or doing some of the dirty work, you never really minded.

That evening in specific, Fred was off on some ‘official business’, which really just meant meeting with a potential product buyer at The Leaky Cauldron. Last month, George took the burden of doing so, and they decided it was only fair for him to do it this time. Unfortunately for you, as much as you loved supporting them, it did interfere with your evening plans with him. So, sulking and trying your best to swallow it down, you distracted yourself with stocking shelves downstairs to prepare for another busy day ahead.

You were actually near grateful when George emerged from the office, calling out to you in desperation. It gave you a break from the monotonous back and forth, and someone to talk to. If it could not be Fred, you decided George was the next best.

“So, what’d’ya think it could be?” George asked, peeking over the cauldron that was still spitting back at him. He dodged out of the way, trying his best not to get any of the splashback on his new jumper.

“Well, from what you’ve told me, seems like you put all the right stuff in.” You deducted, pursing your lips slightly as you read over the list for what seemed like the millionth time. “Sad as it sounds, I doubt we can save it now, even if we figure out what happened.” You said, recalling your potions knowledge that Snape had relayed over the years.

“Right, but I’d like to know what’s wrong before I try again.” He explained, taking a moment to look over your sad expression. His eyebrows furrowed, his head cocking to the side as he tried to figure out where it was coming from. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Your eyes flickered upwards to meet his, your cheeks tinged red from the heat of the room. Your lips dipped into a frown as you shrugged your shoulders, brushing him off so you did not need to explain yourself. “I know you better than that. Come on, now.” He urged, placing his palms flat against the desk as he leaned towards you, a challenging look in his eye.

You narrowed your brows, keeping a stony expression as you met his gaze. “What’s it to you, Weasley?” You shot back, unsure of where your defensive nature was coming from. Perhaps you weren’t willing to discuss your relationship problems with your boyfriend’s twin brother, or maybe it was because you felt foolish for being upset at all.

“Reckon we’re past that, hmm? Your problems are our problems, and all.” He responded, also unsure of why you were being so reserved with your thoughts. Usually, you were an open book, especially with the two of them.

“My problems aren’t your problems, Georgie.” You shook your head, shutting down the ridiculous notion. “Let’s get back to the real problem, yeah?”

“No, I don’t think so.” George disagreed, his concern now over something completely different. “Is it about Fred?” At that, the tips of your ears began to burn and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “Ah, I see.” A devious smile crossed his lips.

“It’s not a big deal.” You covered your tracks, tapping the ink-less quill against the worn parchment.

“I have a hard time believing you, considering you just lied to me.”

“Lied is a strong word,” you rolled your eyes, quickly realizing that there would be no escaping the conversation. “I didn’t lie about anything.”

“What’s he done?”

“Nothing!” You exclaimed, a dry laugh leaving your lips. “It’s just… I’m just being dramatic.” And it’s true, you were being dramatic. Well, maybe not fully, but that’s what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I just miss him, I suppose. I know you both have been busy, but I think maybe I underestimated how busy you would actually be.” You continued, knowing it was wrong to confide in his twin brother about your relationship issues. Still, it felt good to get it off your chest, to voice the concern and have someone shoot you down, just so you knew you were being irrational. “This is the third night in a row we’ve canceled our plans. I’ll get over it. It’s no big deal.”

“That’s a big deal.” He hummed, sympathizing with you to make you feel better. “Bloody inconsiderate, if you ask me.” But you weren’t asking him, and somehow his justification of your feelings only made you feel worse. “What? Not allowed to speak my mind?”

“No—“ you let out a defeated sigh, slumping down in your seat. “I know that, but I was hoping you would tell me I’ve gone mad, instead.”

“Blimey, Y/N, you’re allowed to be upset. We're busy, yeah, but you’re still his girlfriend.” George said, jumping slightly when the rain cloud above the cauldron let out a crack of thunder. “If you’d rather, we can forget the elixir and grab dinner instead. I’m not Fred, but I’m pretty damn close.” He gave you a cheeky smile, earning an honest laugh from you.

“S’alright, Georgie. Thank you, though.” You appreciated his kindness, but you were sure it would only make your predicament even worse, considering Fred’s recently acquired short-fuse when it came to you and George spending so much time together. It was odd for him to be so protective, so jealous of the one person in the world he needn’t worry about, but it seemed as though the new trait was permanent. Perhaps it came from the fact he was also missing you due to your busy schedules, and how it sometimes seemed you and George were most often left at the shop alone.

“You know, I have noticed that lately.” George continued, leaning against the desk as he reminisced over the last few weeks. “Always seems to be us stuck here together.”

“Mhm.” You mumbled, slowly realizing that you weren’t as insane as you previously thought if he was noticing all of the same things. “Let’s just figure this out so I can get home.”

So you did. A grueling hour spent recounting George’s every step in brewing the elixir left the two of you puzzled and even more frustrated. By that point in the night, you were hunched over the long list of his steps you had jotted down so you could (hopefully) discover what he missed.

“I dunno, Georgie.” You sighed. “Seems like you did everything—“ you cut yourself off, leaning closer to the page on the desk as you caught something you hadn’t seen before.

“What?” He asked, his head snapping towards you. “What is it?”

“You said when you let it simmer, it was turquoise.” You said, looking up at him.

“Yeah, so?” He replied, confused why it was such a big deal.

“It’s meant to be blue.” You explained, a grin on your face as you relayed the information to him.

“Turquoise… blue… same thing, innit?” He asked, standing and walking over to you.

“Maybe to you.” You giggled, pointing to the piece of paper where he missed the step. “After you add the shrivelfig, you have to stir it until it changes color.” He walked up behind you, placing one hand on your arm as he leaned over your opposite shoulder. He smelled of butterbeer, likely due to the one he’d been nursing the entire time you sat together. You immediately noticed the warmth of his body, how similar it felt to how Fred touched you, but how drastically different it was all the same.

“Blimey, you’re right!” He exclaimed, his voice still soft so he was not yelling in your ear. “What would I do without you?” He gave your arm a gentle squeeze, leaning closer and pressing the side of his face to yours in a makeshift hug. His hand dropped to your back, lingering there as the conversation continued.

“It’s nothing, really.” You smiled, closing your eyes to enjoy the warmth for a moment. “So now you know. You can do it again, but make sure to stir it until it’s blue. By tomorrow, we’ll have it bottled and on the shelves just like we planned.”

“Our number one girl, saving the day yet again.” He sighed in relief. “I better get to it—“

Before his thought could finish, the door to the office swung open, cutting him short. Your eyes turned upwards, landing on a slightly drunken version of the boyfriend who’d abandoned your evening plans. The gloss of his eyes and the goofy smile on his lips led you to believe so, and the redness on the apples of his cheeks only solidified it. Only his cheeky grin didn’t last too long when he processed the scene in front of him, how close the two of you were, how heavy George’s hand seemed on your back and how rosy your own cheeks were.

Quickly, his jaw tightened, his gaze narrowing as he tried to decipher the whole situation. His nostrils flared ever so slightly, and his arms raised to cross over his chest. Immediately, you knew what you’d be in for; a long, tiresome argument that changed absolutely nothing. Instead of fighting the silent accusations, defending yourself for no real reason at all, you watched him with the same intensity while you awaited a snide comment.

“So what’s all this, then?” Fred asked, his face clearly conveying all of his emotions.

“Helping Georgie make the elixir while you were off getting sloshed at The Leaky Cauldron.” You muttered, noticing George straighten himself up in hopes of avoiding any further damage.

“I was not getting sloshed, I was doing business.” He corrected, defensive over the fact. “S’pose you were hoping I’d take a little longer, yeah? Give you some more time to cozy up with my brother?”

“Blimey, Fred. If you took any longer, I’d imagine you’d have to move in with the lad.” George took your side on the matter. “At least she wouldn’t have to worry about you missing dinner again.” At that, Fred’s eyes cut to you, immediately understanding where the underlying tension was coming from.

“Is that right?” Fred’s voice was no louder than a whisper, all of the pieces clicking together in an instant. “I don’t suppose the two of you had dinner? Let him fill in for me while I was gone?”

“No, we did not.” You snipped, standing as you gathered the ingredients for George’s second attempt at the brew.

“Yeah, right. What else did he fill in for, sweetheart? Anything you think I should know?” At that, your eyes widened and your face turned red. Your entire body felt like it was engulfed in flames, appalled that he would even think such a thing.

“Piss off, Fred.” You muttered, stepping out from behind the desk as tears stung your eyes. George shot you a sympathetic look as you pushed past his brother and out into the stairwell. You trodded down to the main level, swiping fallen tears away from your cheeks as you rushed out the front entrance of the building.

The cool air of the night was nice, especially after spending so long cramped up in the tiny office space, but it was not as freeing as you might have hoped once you heard footsteps following behind you. Without acknowledging him, you pulled your keys from your pocket, hoping that maybe he forgot his own set and you wouldn’t have to deal with his drunken arguments tonight if you got inside before him.

Of course, you knew that was childish and cruel, because despite being upset with him, loving him was the only thing you knew how to do. You unlocked the front door, holding it open with your boot-clad foot as he stumbled his way behind you. As soon as he passed through the doorway, you continued on your journey to ignore him and tossed your keys on the counter.

“Hey,” Fred reached out, his warm hand landing on your arm, stopping you from running any further from him.

“What?” You snapped, immediately regretting the harshness of your tone. He recoiled at the sound, shocked that you spoke to him in such a way. Usually the two of you saw eye to eye on everything, and in your long standing relationship arguing had never been your thing. Until you left school, you were certain the two of you had never been angry at each other, ever.

“What the bloody hell was that about? I leave for a few hours, and the two of you get on like that? Does that happen every time I step out?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes again, wondering why this became such a problem in the few short months you’d been graduated.

“Merlin, Fred. You’re acting like you caught us in a broom closet.” You tried again to make your way to the bedroom, unwilling to argue a point he knew was blasphemous anyhow. “We were working, not fucking.”

“Yeah, but I bet you would’ve let him, right?” He grabbed your hand, spinning you back around to face him. He pulled you into him, his athletic build never leaving him even after he stopped playing quidditch. “Bitching and moaning cause I couldn’t be home to take you to dinner… if you were so upset, why didn’t you come to me, princess? Tell me what was wrong?” You could smell fire whiskey on his breath, feeling his chest heaving with anger against your own. As angry as you were, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of arousal run through you. The slight sneer on his face, the fire in his eyes, and the protective hold he had on you was sending your head spinning with thoughts much less pertinent to the topic at hand.

“Maybe I would have if you spared me the time of day.” You argued, finding yourself short of breath as you realized just how much he towered over you. “But, as it seems, you’ve been too damn busy to spare me a second glance.”

“Christ, when did you get so needy?” His rebuttal came easy, like he’d been waiting to have this fight for weeks. “Weren’t satisfied at home, so you thought my brother could do it for you?”

“Are you daft?” You hissed, feeling his fingers tighten on your hips. You hated that the feeling made you forget about your troubles, urging you to push the argument to the side and settle it in a better, more pleasurable way. “If that’s what I wanted, you think I’d be up here arguing with you?”

“That depends, sweetheart. Were you planning on getting caught?” He raised an eyebrow, the thud of his heart against his chest letting you know just how worked up he was. There was no way he truly believed you would do that to him, especially after all you had been through together. You wondered if maybe the lack of time spent with each other was getting to him, souring his thoughts because he missed you just as much as you missed him. “We may be identical, Princess, but he could never give you what I can.”

You hated to admit it, but for some strange reason, jealousy looked really good on him.

“What, a headache and a poor mood?” You decided to play his game if he wasn’t willing to listen to reason. If he wanted to fight, you could do it too. “I’m sure he could manage. In fact, he could probably do a hell of a lot more.” That seemed to strike a nerve in him, pushing him over the edge in an instant and changing the entire mood hanging heavy in the room. He no longer wanted to talk, but rather prove a point.

He took a step backwards, never easing his hold as he pushed you towards the kitchen table. He didn’t stop until your ass hit the edge, a mischievous look in his eye replacing the earlier annoyance. He had you locked in place, no intent to back down as he stared down at you over the bridge of his nose. Then, a small smirk turned the corner of his lips, leading you to believe he was also thinking of a much more simple way to solve your problems.

“Maybe you just need a reminder of who you belong to, yeah?” He asked, his voice quieter than it was before. You felt your mouth run dry, your eyes never leaving his as a dull ache between your legs began to pester you.

That would make you feel better, but he had pissed you off enough that you wanted to refuse him the satisfaction.

“Maybe we should get Georgie up here. According to you, he’d be the one to set me straight.” There was a slight venom in your tone letting him know you wouldn’t be letting anything go so easily. A low chuckle shook his shoulders, his eyes gleaming with a sinister look you weren’t sure you’d ever seen from him before that night. He shook his head ever so slightly, playing into you as he reached one arm behind you.

Your heart raced as you awaited a response, wondering if maybe you pushed him too far and crossed a boundary you could not double back on. You didn’t have to wonder long, because without a second thought, he cleared all of the items littering the table with one swift move of his arm. Papers scattered everywhere, floating through the air and landing all over the floor. Broken products and half finished merchandise for the shop tumbled off the edge, falling less than gracefully onto the tile below. Without ever breaking eye contact, he raised an eyebrow, daring you to say it again.

“You think he can fuck you better than I can?” He asked, giving you the opportunity to change your mind.

“Right now? Yeah.” You spat, wondering if he’d ever drop the act and get on with his day. “Seems like all you want to do is get on my nerves.��

“Yeah?” He challenged, his face so close to yours you could feel his breath on your skin. The tip of his nose grazed your own, his normally warm and comforting irises engulfed by his lust-blown pupils. Or perhaps it was anger that gave him the new look—you weren’t quite sure. “You’d rather go home with him at night? Wake up next to him every morning? Is that really what you want, princess?” He taunted, knowing very well that your heart was his, even if he found himself caught up in a few moments of doubt.

Still neglecting to give him any gratification, you nodded your head despite the sickening feeling that washed over you at the thought. As if he called your bluff before you ever said it aloud, he laughed at the certainty in your action, which only seemed to anger you further.

“If that’s the case, seems like I’ve got my work cut out for me tonight.” He responded, brushing the comment off as if it were nothing. If there was one thing Fred couldn’t ever turn down, it was a challenge, and since coming upstairs with you, it was only further proven to him that’s all this was. “Maybe I’ve gotten too comfortable, sweetheart. After so long, you think you’d know that you’re mine, huh?” Before he continued his tyrant, he used his hands on your hips to lift you onto the table with ease. The ache between your legs had grown stronger, more intense and impossible to ignore. You could feel the wetness soaking through your panties, and the thought of his strong arms lifting you so carelessly only made you spiral further. “Maybe I expect too much of you.” He theorized, recognizing the gleam in your eyes because he’d seen it a thousand times before.

He let his hands trail under the hem of your jumper, settling on the button of your jeans as he undid it with ease. You never let your eyes trail from his face, realizing that no matter how upset you were, it could never take away from how much you loved him. He was beautiful, his fiery red hair and the freckles splattered across his cheeks and nose creating a perfect picture. The softness of his complexion and the gentleness hidden deep in his expression assured you that whatever the two of you were doing was nothing more than an act. He knew you were his just as well as you did, but he knew the only way to settle the (admittedly, misguided) fear was to hear you say it aloud.

You helped him pull the fabric from your legs, wrapping your arms around his neck as you lifted your hips from the table. He discarded the clothing on the floor, paying no mind to it as he returned his hands to your bare legs. His eyes searched your face, carefully looking for any sign of discomfort. Instead, he was met with a pleading expression that only seemed to fuel his too large ego even further.

“No matter,” he disregarded his earlier rant, his eyes growing heavy as his hand fell between your legs. His fingertips grazed the thin fabric separating him from your core, a shiver running down his spine as he noticed the arousal that had soaked straight through. “I don’t mind having to show you. Least I’ll get to have my fun too, yeah?” He applied slight pressure to your aching clit, watching to see your reaction. Your eyebrows knitted together, your lips parting slightly as your hips moved forward into his hand, your body betraying your mind and begging him for something more.

At that, a grin encased his face, happy to see that he hadn’t lost his touch, even if your lives were vastly different and ever-changing by the day. He knew exactly how to make you feel good, and he took pride in it.

“See, Princess? She’ll always tell me the truth.” He taunted, his voice quiet as his eyes trailed down to his hand. You swallowed hard, knowing he had you in a stalemate. “Tell me again, who do you think knows how to make you feel good? Who does it best?” He was on a power trip, unwilling to slow down until he heard you admit it. Still, you stood your ground, pressing your lips tightly together so not a single sound could pass through. His grin faded, slowly sinking into a scowl as your disobedience remained clear.

He removed his finger from you, tracing the hem of your panties as he hooked his finger through the side of the fabric resting on your hip. He awaited an answer, giving you the opportunity to change your mind. When you kept your stoicism, he gave one, hard tug on the lacy fabric until it snapped in two. He used his other hand to do it to the opposite side, giving himself easy access to you without hearing a complaint on your end.

“So you don’t care who’s between your legs?” He continued, unrelenting as you stared him down. “Doesn’t matter who, as long as there’s a cock in you? As long as someone’s taking care of your pretty pussy?” Your cheeks flushed, your chest burning as the filthy words washed over you. “Doesn’t matter, sweetheart. When I’m done with you, I’ll be the only person you can think of. Surely then you won’t be able to forget who you belong to.”

His hand connected with your bare cunt, his fingers trailing through your arousal and settling over your clit as he began to trace slow circles into the sensitive area. Your legs trembled at the contact, finally feeling some relief from the nagging sensation that had been taking over.

“Fuck. Fred.” You whispered, giving yourself away immediately. He let out a low hum, pleased with the sound and knowing he was the reason for it. He had you where he wanted you, and now he just had to keep up the pace. You could feel his hardening length against your leg, distracting you completely from the pent up anger and frustration.

“That’s it.” He encouraged, his middle finger sinking inside of you as he let his thumb take over on your clit. “That’s my girl.” He made sure to accentuate the claim, never once letting you forget it. “All you needed was a little help remembering.” Slowly, he pumped his finger into you, keeping time with his thumb as he began to work you towards a climax. “You want to say it for me? Tell me what I already know?” Instead of responding, you let out a whine, your hips bucking forward into his hand. Although it wasn’t what he was looking for, it was just enough for him to keep going.

He curled his fingers as he pumped them into you, begging for a reaction as your hand wrapped around his bicep for support. You felt the tense of his muscles as he worked at you, only pushing you closer to insanity. You were his, undoubtedly and wholeheartedly, and you would be crazy to ever want anyone else.

“Stubborn little thing tonight.” He remarked, his eyes focused on the point in which his hand met with you, never breaking his stare as he watched his fingers disappear into you. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Need more, Freddie.” You replied, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the pleasure pulsing under your skin. It had been a long time since you felt him this way, and your impatience was quite clear.

“My little whore needs more?” He teased, applying a little more pressure with his thumb. A gasp fell from your lips, sending your upper half leaning forward until your forehead rested against his. “Asking a lot from someone you aren’t being very good for.” He chastised you for your behavior despite being the one that caused the problem in the first place.

“M’sorry, my love. S-so sorry.” You rushed out, his fingers brushing against the sweet spot inside you only he knew how to find.

“That’s not what I want to hear sweetheart, and you know it.” His tone was firm, unrelenting as he continued his torment. You let out a groan of frustration, wishing he’d quicken the pace and give you what you wanted, even though you refused to give in to him.

He leaned forward, closing the gap between your mouths as he grew tired of waiting for the words he wanted to hear. He tasted like the whiskey that had been fuelling his poor mood, sweet and bitter all at once as his tongue grazed your bottom lip. You hated how easy it was for him to turn you into a mess, hated how easy it was for him to make you forget you were angry at all. You pulled him closer to you, holding his arm tightly so he would not pull away. You were stubborn, but despite that, you were showing him everything he wanted to see through your actions alone.

You broke from the kiss as a particularly intense wave of euphoria pulled your stomach. Your forehead continued to rest on his, holding you upright as he continued to give you just enough to keep you satisfied.

“Say it, princess.” His voice was low, raspy and laced with desire as he watched you turn into a mess below him. “Tell me you’re all mine. Tell me I’m the only one who can make you feel like this.” Instead, you connected your mouths again, letting a desperate moan out at the same time. He drank in the sound, his cock throbbing as his hips jutted forward into nothing. He was almost more desperate than you were, which only allowed for you to take him less seriously.

“G-gonna have to try harder than that.” You found a peculiar pleasure in leaving him on edge, giving him a taste of his own medicine as he continued to torture both of you at once. “Show me why I should say it, Freddie. Seems like you’re all t-talk.” You stuttered, tripping over your words as you tried to keep your composure.

He withdrew his hand from you, making you cry out in frustration from the loss of pleasure. Your eyes met his, desperation written all over your face as you protested his actions. Silently, he sunk to his knees between your legs, pulling you to the edge of the table by your hips. He didn’t spare a single glance at your face before his tongue connected with your core, the warm wetness of his tongue even more pleasurable than the rough pad of his thumb.

You laid back on the table, your hands sinking downwards and tangling in the soft locks of hair. Although you were denying him of the statement he wanted to hear, you could not deny that your last argument was wholly untrue. Fred was determined to prove a point, and he was doing it well.

You weren’t far off from an orgasm, his tongue making quick work at pushing you to the edge. The sounds falling from your lips were telling of your current state, and as delirium began to set in, your defenses began to break down.

He suctioned his lips around your clit, adding his fingers to the mix and returning to his earlier pace to torture you further. Every nerve in your body was ablaze with desire, need seeping from every pore as you realized just how badly you needed the release. Sick of the game, you finally broke in fear he would leave you hanging yet again.

“Oh, god.” You gasped, your legs resting over his shoulders in attempt to stop the constant trembling of the lips. “I’m yours, Fred, fuck!” You exclaimed, a sheen layer of sweat forming over your forehead as the knot in your belly began to tighten. “Only you can make me feel this good. Nobody else.” You whined, your fingers tightening on the locks of hair as you began to tug at the strands. You could feel him smiling against you, happy to finally hear you admit the truth.

Pleased with your confessions, he curled his fingers against your g-spot one last time, generously giving you the very thing you’d been pleading for. In a mess, your entire body tensed as the pleasure took hold. The orgasm washed over you, leaving your heart racing against your chest and your head swirling with filthy thoughts for the boy between your legs. A hum of approval let you know he was more than happy with your performance, and he kept his pace until he felt you relax against the table below you.

Once he knew he’d gotten the most out of you, he rose to his feet, towering over you as you laid below him. In the dim moonlight, you could see your orgasm glistening on his chin, only furthering his cockiness as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip so he did not waste a drop of it.

“Always taste so sweet, princess.” He whispered, using one hand to free himself from his pants and his boxers. “And it’s all for me.” He continued, slipping his shirt from his head. He used it to wipe his face clean before tossing it on the floor to join the growing pile of clothes. With shaky hands, you lifted your upper half from the table and pulled your own jumper over your head. “Isn’t that right?” He stepped toward, settling between your legs as his hands ghosted over your bare thighs.

You let out a whimper, his grip landing on your already sore hips as his eyes raked over your entire frame. Your gaze flickered to his cock, hard and aching for relief as he continued to tease you. His fingers tickled your stomach as he trailed his touch upwards, his palm landing flat against your breast as he gave it a gentle squeeze. He let the pad of his thumb brush over your hardened nipple, sending another wave of pleasure through you.

“Answer me, sweetheart.” He wasn’t playing anymore; he wanted to hear the words, and he was done with your obstinacy. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger,

“Yes,” you huffed, already forgetting the pleasure from your first climax as a whole new wave of need began to take over. “I’m yours, Fred. All yours.” You reiterated your earlier statement, now willing to do whatever he wanted of you to prove the point.

“Tell me how bad you want it.” He shot you a twisted little smile, almost as if he was getting off just from the thought of you begging for him.

“I need it, baby. Need to feel you, please.” You whined, reaching for his arms and pulling him closer. “Want you so bad, Fred. Been waiting all night for it.” You felt the tip of his cock connect with your cunt, his expression faltering as soon as he felt the wetness.

“God, you make it so hard to be upset with you.” He hissed the words through his teeth, using his hand to guide himself through your folds as he sucked in a sharp breath. He settled himself just over your already sensitive clit, pushing his hips forward ever so slightly to apply pressure to the spot. “Sound so pretty when you’re begging to be fucked.”

Slowly, he let his tip run back through your arousal, settling the head just at your entrance. He pushed himself forward, but just barely. You whimpered as you braced yourself for the feeling, only to be let down when he stopped himself from going any further.

“Fred,” you warned, catching his eye so he could see your desperate face. You hoped that if he did, he would stop being such a tease. “Please fuck me.”

“What was that?” He smirked, turning his head slightly so his ear was closer to you. “Didn’t quite catch it.”

“Fred, stop—“ you cut yourself off, letting out a huff of annoyance. You knew chastising him for his actions would only make him less likely to give in, even if it was incredibly hard to hold it back. “I need you to fuck me.” You repeated, clearer and louder in hopes of swaying his decision. “Can’t wait any longer, baby. Please.”

At that, he pushed forward the rest of the way, sending your entire body raising with goosebumps. The stretch as he filled you was exactly what you craved, and as he reached the hilt, his tip brushed against your g-spot so delicately that it almost made you come undone right then and there. Your eyelids grew heavy with satisfaction, focusing on how full you felt with him inside of you, knowing that he for certain would always be the one for you.

“That good enough for you, Princess? This is what you wanted?” He asked, letting himself rest inside you for a moment. He felt your walls flutter around him, pulling him even further and making it harder for him to resist you.

“Mhm,” you hummed, giving him a tired nod of agreement. You could feel him throbbing inside of, desperate for a release just like you had been moments before, but he was still trying to prove his point.

“Nobody else gets to have you like this, sweetheart. You’re mine.” He whispered, now sober from the alcohol but intoxicated by an even stronger, deadlier force; you. “He couldn’t fuck you like this, and you know it.” As he spoke, he withdrew his hips and slammed them forward into you again. The action stole the breath from your lungs, twisting your stomach with pleasure as your nails scratched over his skin.

He began at a pace, slower than normal but the force behind his movements making your head spin. You moaned quietly, lost within the feeling of being so close to him. He never failed to take your breath away, never failed to amaze you with his every move. You were so in love with him it sometimes felt like there was no room within your heart for anyone or anything else.

“Tell me, Y/N.” He ordered, his stare never wavering as he fucked into you. As much as he wanted to succumb to the sensation of you wrapped around him, he found it hard to push the thoughts of your earlier arguments out of his head. “You think he’d fuck you like this? You think he could make you feel this good?”

“No, Freddie.” You gasped, feeling the strength of his thrusts increase, sending the legs of the table wobbling. His fingers tightened on your hips, likely leaving behind angry red marks that would fade into reminders of him for days to come.

“That’s it, Princess.” He panted, his chest heaving as he tried to resist the pull of pleasure. “Don’t you think, not even for a second, that anyone can give you half of what I can.” You both knew this to be fact; nobody in the entire world could ever compare to him. “And why do you think that is?”

“‘C-cause I’m yours,” you managed to stutter out the response, watching him as the statement washed over. He brought his hand to your thigh, your legs wrapped tightly around you as he pulled you back on him with every thrust. His head fell back on his shoulders, the dim light of the room casting a beautiful hue over his already breathtaking features.

“That’s right,” he grunted, slamming his hips forward again. There was a thin layer of sweat sheen on his chest, the toned muscles of his abdomen flexing every time he moved. The exposed columns of his neck made your mouth water, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed back his own groans of pleasure. “Was that why you were mouthing off? You just needed someone to take care of you? Just needed me to fuck you?”

“God, yes.” You moaned, feeling the pressure in your belly begin to reach a peak.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? All over my cock?” He smiled, looking down at you so he could appreciate the view. “Come on now, making a fucking mess of it.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, his words hitting you hard and causing the tightening knot in your belly to tense even further.

“That’s my pretty girl. Just like that.” He continued to encourage you, studying your expression as pleasure began to twist it.

It didn’t take much more for you to descend into another orgasm, your entire body quivering as you cried out for him, singing his name like a hymn and he was the god in which you prayed to. Your throat was raw, raspy from the constant string of moans passing your lips. You were tired, almost too fucked out to continue on, but he was having none of it. He didn’t slow his pace as you came down from the high, instead speeding up and ensuring that he pulled your entire body down on him as he fucked into you.

“Freddie, please.” You breathed, feeling the threat of overstimulation begin to creep in. He would have had sympathy had he known you couldn’t take it, but he was confident in your ability to keep up with him.

“What’s wrong, Princess? Wanted it so bad and now you can’t handle it?” He asked, his eyes glazed over with lust as he felt himself approaching his own orgasm. You frowned at his words, now on a quest to prove your own point as you tried to ignore the stinging beginning to set in.

“I can t-take it.” You huffed, a shiver running down your spine as he reached upwards and palmed your breast. He gave the supple flesh a gentle squeeze, his eyes closing in bliss as he let himself slip out of the persona he had created.

“Being so good for me—just a bit longer now.” He whispered, his voice far away as his eyes settled over your face once more. “Bloody hell, Y/N.” he groaned, his forehead creasing as his eyebrows furrowed together. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He slipped his hand between your legs, his thumb landing atop your clit. He traced slow circles, knowing you were a bit further behind him and unwilling to climax without giving you at least one more. He could see how tired you were, but it did not deter him from his commitment to pleasing you.

“I love you, Fred.” You whispered, softened entirely by the sweet look in his eyes. All of his previous anger fled, leaving him just as the boy you’d fallen so hopelessly for.

“I love you, sweetheart.” He hummed, his hips stuttering and his stature faltering. “Give me one more, yeah? I know you can do it.” And he was right, your entire body was ablaze with another orgasm much more powerful than the last two.

“Together?” You gasped, reaching up and settling your palm on his cheek.

“Yeah? You want to cum with me?” He encouraged your train of thought. “Want me to fill that pretty cunt? Really show you who you belong to?”

“Fuck yes, please.” You cried, your fingertips tangling in the locks of hair hanging over his ears. Your walls clenched around him, drawing him in and effortlessly finishing what you had started.

You felt his hips stall, a low growl leaving his lips as he pulled you down on him one last time. He managed to whisper your name as he spilled his release into you, the feeling of him filling you completely sending you spiraling on your own accord. You let out a defeated sigh, the tail end of it turning into a whine as your body went rigid. Your nails scratched at the skin of his arm, your hand on him the only thing keeping you tied to earth instead of floating up and through the clouds.

The both of you rode the high together, euphoria infiltrating every nerve in both of your bodies as he leaned down towards you. Ever so gently, he laid his head on your chest, which was still heaving as you tried to catch up from the lack of oxygen. He placed a plethora of small kisses against the warm skin, his eyes fluttering closed as he appreciated the comfort that came with your company.

Silence hung heavy between you for a few moments, neither of you sure where to go from there. You were still strung out on bliss, barely remembering what got the two of you in the position until he spoke again.

“M’sorry, sweetheart.” His voice barely broke through the room, so timid and shy that you almost missed it completely. “I know you’d never do that. Just got in my head, I s’pose.”

“I… I get it.” You sighed, twisting a lock of his hair. “If I walked in on that, after us being so.. you know. I’d likely feel it too.” You confessed. “I was upset that we had to cancel dinner. I am upset, but not at you.” You tried your best to explain yourself despite exhaustion eating away at your mind. “I’m just upset because I miss you. You’re so busy now, and I’m happy for you, really, but I miss you too.”

“You think I was bloody happy about it?” Fred chuckled, the tip of his fingers tracing shapes into your skin. “I’d much rather be here, with you.” At that, you relaxed completely, understanding that you had gotten too far into your own head. “It’s my favorite place to be. Always has been.”

“Mine too, Fred.” You hummed, smiling softly at the thought.

“I reckon I was a bit jealous, ‘specially at the thought of you and George spending so much time with each other. Would rather it be me, you know, sitting at the shop and laughing with you all night… taking you out for dinner… loving you.” Another gentle kiss was placed to your chest, just before he looked up to meet your eyes. The soft, warm, familiar sight made you feel at ease. He was back to being your Fred, the one you missed all along.

“Darling, you have nothing to be jealous about.” You promised, smiling as he placed a quick peck on your lips. “Though, if it means we get to have brilliant sex like that, by all means do what you have to do.” You explained. “Bloody brilliant, at that.” Without any further words, the two of you descended into a fit of laughter and the clouds that previously hung above your head seemingly cleared in an instant, easily proving to him there was really never a need to worry at all.

[hpseeker99]

Neville: Which one of you was going to tell me that tea tastes different if you put it in hot water? Ron: Y-You were putting it in cold water? Ginny: Neville. Answer the question Neville. Neville: Yeah? I thought for like 5 years that people just put it in hot water to speed up the tea-ification process, didn’t realize there was an actual reason. You think I have the patience to boil water? Ginny: You don't have the patience to microwave water for 3 minutes? Ron: Why are you, putting it in the microwave to boil it?! Ginny: Do you think I have the patience to boil water on the stove? Ron: It 👏🏻 TAKES👏🏻 LESS THAN A 👏🏻 MINUTE Ginny: Bestie is your stovetop powered by the fucking sun?? Ron: How long does it take you to boil a cup of water on the stove? Ginny: Like seven minutes Ron: Just stick the mug on top of the stove on medium heat and it boils in like two minutes… less than that is you use a saucepan… Ginny: [crying] You’re putting the whole mug on the stove?? On medium heat?? Your stove is enchanted Hermione: Every single person here is a fucking lunatic. Harry: Do none of you own a fucking kettle?

[beerose12]

harry potter as memes part 1 feat.

1. ron having the emotional range of a teaspoon

2. neville being accident prone

3. hermione being done with all this fucking bullshit

[yovrnewromantic]

THE MEANEST GIRL IN HUFFLEPUFF

a small series inspired by my harry potter oc! and her interactions with her peers! enjoy :) please lmk if you have any requests!!

the masterlist! (written by a hufflepuff in denial so yk its accurate)

Harry Potter... Coming soon...

Draco Malfoy

Cedric Diggory

Hermione Granger

Theodore Nott

Ron Weasley

Mattheo Riddle

Lorenzo Berkshire

Fred Weasley

Blaise Zabini

Pansy Parkinson

Ginny Weasley

George Weasley

Luna Lovegood

Neville Longbottom

[sofmaart]

This is my first time ever posting fanart, so I hope it goes well🦡

Anyway f*ck TERFs💗

[lov3-lik3-ghosts]

Smitten!Neville Longbottom

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x fem!Lupin!reader

Summary: Neville watched you be sorted and hasn’t stopped thinking of you since. To his luck, during your fifth year, you finally start to take interest in the male species.

Warnings: Not beta read. Use of Y/n. Voldemort stays dead after the first war. Umbridge free au. WolfStar raised Harry Potter and reader. Mentioned Drarry. Usage of ‘Moomy’ and ‘Dadfoot’.

Format: Headcanon’s.

Word Count: 4k.

Request Guidelines Main Masterlist

~ 𐀔 ~ △⃒⃘ ~ 𐀔 ~

• Fifth year for you looked miles different to that of your brothers and your fathers had no clue how to handle it.

Growing up with only men wasn’t the hell that some of your girlfriends thought it was, but it was off putting to potential interest in boys. You were well aware how messy and lax they could be, how oblivious they were when it came to more female matters, and it wasn’t appealing. There was a time during muggle primary school that you’d found a boy cute but your brother was quick to scare him away — egged on by the background nudge of your dad. Since then, boys hadn’t really crossed your mind.

But last year, when the TriWizard Tournament took place and Durmstrang made home on Hogwarts grounds, something stirred. Looking back, they weren’t really all that cute, but tall, muscly, foreign men with thick accents were bound to make something click in anyone’s head. Of course, you weren’t the only one to notice their attractiveness, as proven by the whispered conversations by any group of girls you came across, but you were proud to say you didn’t pick one boy to be your favourite and all but claim him from the dating scene when he didn’t even know your name.

What your fathers didn’t know how to handle was your liking to famous stars, what they considered to be ‘suggestive’ muggle romance novels, and your need to gush about them. You weren’t overbearing, most of the time going back and forth with a surprisingly interested Luna Lovegood, but on the occasion that you’d come to them they’d freeze.

It was more the thought that their daughter was taking interest in boys than your want for conversation, how could you go from thinking men were so uninteresting to thinking their faces were “crafted from Merlin’s dirtiest desires” and calling them “babygirl material” so quickly?

In retrospect they found your tangents funny, or they would if you weren’t their little girl.

Harry was easier for them to deal with when he’d taken an interest in dating. Boys they were familiar with, they’d been them and they’d known them and they knew how to guide him. And Harry was sensible when it came to women, respectful and understanding, but he’d taken more of an interest in boys so there wasn’t too much to warn him off of. Your brothers exploring came during the throes of the TriWizard Tournament but you took on a more observative state than you did an explorative one.

In the beginning of fifth year you realised that big and muscly wasn’t really what you wanted from a boy. Teenagers tended to be run by appearance, social standing and magical prowess, you could understand the appeal of it but those that had all three were unappealing in the personality aspect of attraction, at least to you they were. Sadly, you’d found that out the hard way when you’d agreed to go on a date with a popular Hufflepuff and come out of it with bruised knuckles.

But nervous Gryffindor’s obsessed with Herbology? That was your type.

And you might not be a Potter, but your brother was one and every behaviour you have now is learned from your small family, why not his ability to grovel too?

• You’ve been trying for weeks to get Neville to return your feelings, nothing seems to be working.

With Neville you couldn’t be so public with your affections as Harry had been for his boyfriend, Draco Malfoy. Luckily, that worked better for you, too. You were never one for dramatic displays and magical scenes.

Neville liked soft, sweet moments and deep conversations — he liked to be heard, to be seen, and you were wonderful at noticing everything about him. He didn’t like expensive jewels and flashy gifts but he did like the Herbology books hidden in the depths of the Black library and the muggle plants you’d find in local shops. He didn’t like public confessions and loud admittances but he did like telling his deep dark secrets in the cover of the greenhouse so long as you shared yours too.

He didn’t like people pointing out his struggle in potions but he took swimmingly to you pointing him in the right direction. He got deeply embarrassed when others pointed out a stain on his shirt but he grinned so wide when you bought him a new one on your next trip to Hogsmeade — especially when he noticed that you’d taken the time to get it made by his favourite seamstress in his preferred style.

As much as he took to your advances, nothing seemed to be changing between you. Neville didn’t reciprocate the small actions you’d taken but he didn’t decline them either and you’d began to wonder if he just didn’t feel the same. The realisation was crushing, a festering feeling largening in your chest, and it had you taking solace in your fathers quarters with tear-tracked cheeks.

“I don’t get it,” You sobbed into Remus’ chest. “I’ve been trying really hard, I’ve been listening to everything he has to say carefully to make sure I don’t miss anything, I’ve been learning Herbology just to make conversation with him and he just- just doesn’t like me.”

Remus swallowed, blinking his heartache back. “You don’t need to try so hard for some boy, sweetheart. You’re perfect as you are. Sometimes boys are stupid and they don’t notice what’s right in front of them, and I would know, I’m a boy.”

You sprung up, sitting back onto your haunches. “But he’s not just some boy, Moomy! He’s Neville, he’s perfect, he’s kind and he’s sweet and he listens! And-” You paused, lips quivering with held back cries. “And I love him. I love him so much it hurts.”

His face softened, silvery scars unwrinkling. He pulled you back into his chest with a grip on your wrists, settling you back between the v of his legs. “Oh, baby, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.” You gasp out. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I must be doing something wrong, Moomy, I have to be.” His arms tighten around you, a pressured hug to ground you from spiralling into anxiety’s grip.

The door creaked behind you, silent behind the pitch of your heart, but still, Remus’ head whirled at the sound, finding your brother and your second father standing under the arch. “Remus?” Sirius asked tentatively. “What’s going on? Why’s she crying?”

Remus frowned deeper, shaking his head once as he turned and buried his nose into your hair. Your cries kept on, retching from the pits of your stomach and choking the breath from you, Remus’ shirt dampened under your face and you knew it must be leaking through to his chest but he didn’t seem to mind. “Sweetheart?”

You didn’t answer. Your tears began to slow, drying along with your sobs. You noticed a third hand rubbing along the length of your back, the familiar scent of leather and spice flourishing into your nose. “Dadfoot?”

“Kitten. You doing alright?” His hand didn’t still. “Did something happen?”

“I’m in love with someone,” You whispered. His fingers paused, flexing out against your spine. “He doesn’t love me back.”

“What?” He gruffs, “Who?”

You copy Remus, you shake your head. Sirius wasn’t as restrained as Remus, he’d lost hinges in Azkaban that couldn’t be screwed back in, telling him would put a forever target on Neville’s back — you might as well paint a big red circle on the back of his head should he find out. Sirius snarls, more animal than human.

“Sirius.” Remus warns, growl underlining his own words.

Black sneers, eyes darkening under the stare of his husband. “Remus.” Their gazes don’t falter, like one scorching laser beams trained against the other, sparking crimson and crackling with tension. Sirius breaks first, glancing down at you. “Who?” He says, softer.

“Neville Longbottom.” When Harry speaks his voice is taught with all-knowing. He’s looking between the three of you like you're as mind-gone as any troll, his eyebrow raised and his lips curled. “He’s been in love with her for years.”

• After Harry’s confession, you profess your feelings to Neville.

You could always find him under the glass of the greenhouse, surrounded by vining plants with his fingers dug deep in potted soil, your search for him started and ended there. There was an open book beside him, set against one of the murky windows, and you recognised the weathered pages to be that of a book you’d given him.

The Arts of Potted Mastery by Arlen McCline. It was one of the lightest novels that the Black’s had kept in Grimmauld’s library, and you reasoned the only reason they had it was because it contained additional — vital — information pertaining to a particularly testy flesh-eating plant grown in the Amazon’s depths. You’d warned Neville to not go flaunting his possession of it, lest he want to attract the possessive eyes of other purebloods.

His hands slid from the dirt when you called his name and you glimpsed the remnants embedded under the crescent of his nails and staining his palms when he turned to you. “Y/n.” He grinned.

You smiled back, stepping over his satchel to grab his dirt caked hands and brush the larger clumps to the ground. “Hi. What’re you working on?”

“It’s pretty simple, just some second year stuff that I wanted to try potting myself.” He shrugged, looking down at you with furrowed brows.

“There’s second year stuff in that book?” Neville nods. “What is it?”

“A Puffapod.”

“You planted Puffapod’s in second year?”

“Not exactly,” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Nan bought me some at the end of second year to plant with her over the summer but you know how she is, she doesn’t like when I do the touching.”

“Yeah,” You scoff. “I’m well aware.”

“Well aware?” He flinched back. “What’s that mean?”

“Nothing, nothing.” You shake your head, cutting a hand through the air. Neville raises a brow at you, calling your bullshit. “It’s just–” You sigh, looking at the half-full pot beside you. “I just don’t like how she underestimates you all the time. You’re good at what you do, Nev, you’re good with plants. I think people could be more appreciative of you.”

Everything is silent for a long minute and when you look back at him, his eyes are trailing the slope of your face with a look you could never before place; now that Harry’s tipped the pot though, you knew it all too well — he was admiring you.

“You appreciate me.” He whispers, swallowing roughly.

A dirt tracked hand raises to the apple of your cheek, you steady yourself for the touch, your cheeks reddening, but he hesitates before dropping his arm.

Your fingers wrap the span of his wrist just barely when you grab it, shuffling your feet so close your shoes touch. “Always.”

His breath catches in his chest. He chokes out a strangled noise, chin tilting closer to his chest to keep the contact between you. Your eyes flicker to his lips, the plump shine of them enticing you onto the tips of your toes.

“Neville?”

Neville hums, a rumble through his chest that vibrates through you.

“There’s something I have to tell you.” His head inclines to the side, an anxious puppy dog gesture he always does when he’s anticipating bad news. You’re quick to try and placate him.

“It’s nothing bad, at least I don’t think it is.” You frown. “I just- I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but things have changed over the last few months. At least, for me they have. And yesterday, I had this whole…breakdown? I don’t know, but Harry spilled that you might fancy me and I- I guess–”

His cheeks flame. His breath quickens to an unnatural pace, he steps back, wriggling his wrist in your grasp. “He what?”

“Nev?” You ask smally. He ignores you, too wrapped up in panicking to really hear you. “Neville?”

“I’m sorry he said that. He didn’t mean it, he was being stupid. You didn’t need to know that. You shouldn’t know that. We’re friends. We’re good as friends. I mean sure, I’ve always thought you were really pretty, really lovely, but you don’t like me. And now things are going to be all awkward. I’m so sorry, Y/n. Really, I am.”

“Neville.” You try to placate. “It’s okay.”

“No. No, it’s not. You deserve better than me lying to you.” His breath shutters.

“Nev, I wanted to tell you that I fancied you, too.” You blurt, grasping onto the hunch of his shoulders.

“I’m so sorr-” He stops, looking at you with wide, crazed eyes, and stares through you. “Oh. What? No!” You see the grief flash through him, inflaming his forest eyes and furrowing his face.

“Yes.” You counter with a scoff. “I fancy you. I fancy you, a lot. And, if you’d do me the honour, I’d like it if you went on a date with me.”

“Oh.” Neville’s voice cracked in a squeak. “Yeah. Yes. Sure. I mean, I’d be delighted. Truly.” You grin.

• You asked him on a date but Neville’s more romantic than you anticipated and he’s planned it before you could even try.

If you were being honest with yourself, you’d have taken Neville where all your peers took their dates, a ruddy bar packed full of too loud men and music or a too sweet cafe filled with superficial witches — maybe you’d have drug him between the shops of Hogsmeade, hoping he’d find something he liked, and made filler conversations between that. It wouldn’t have been much, but you’d never thought ahead of the chance he’d say yes, so it would have been something; it would have been a start.

But Neville had bigger, greater plans than that.

He’d asked for the greenhouse for two hours, reserved it with Madam Pomfrey a week in advance, before visiting the kitchens through the passageway you’d shown him. The house elves reserved there were surprisingly stingy with the food they gave him, handing along the woven basket with stern stares and sideway glances, but he’d gotten over it when he’d seen people rushing off to the Great Hall, ready to pile their plates high with the food lining the tables and figured they hadn’t wanted him to spoil his dinner.

He knew taking you to the greenhouse wasn’t so special as some fancy diner, that laying a blanket on the muddied floor wasn’t original at all, but the greenhouse was where most of your dearest memories together were created and it had more sentimental value to the two of the any other place yet.

He’d thought and thought and overthought some more about whether it was good enough for you, he’d ran himself into a rapidfire panic three nights in a row before the day came, but all the anxiety in the world was worth it when you walked through the keep, smiling and fiddling with your sleeve.

“Hi.” You said, meekly.

Neville stared. The evening sun reflected in golden beams off you, kaleidoscoping through the bubbled panes above and haloing the outline of your body, the ivory dress you’d worn flourished around your hips and cuffed around your wrists — he remembers it being the same one you’d gushed over for days, for all its pockets and its charm. The longer he looked at you, the more the thought surfaced, and the only thing he knew you were missing were large, feathered wings mounting your back.

“Hi, Angel.” He hadn’t meant to say it, but he’d been thinking it since first year and you deserved to know how otherworldly you always looked, if only through a pet name. You flushed through to the tips of your ears. “I’m sorry it was such short notice. I just thought we should take this in before the rain starts up again.” He nodded to the sun.

“That’s okay.” You sat across from him. “Though, I thought I was planning this date? I did ask you, after all.” You teased.

“Nan lettered. Told me it was my duty to court you, not the other way around, especially because your dads a Black. I know you don’t usually abide by pureblood rules but she insisted, and I know you hate planning things.”

“You’re right, I do hate planning things,” You nodded, stomach fluttering. “But on the contrary, I’d have planned this gleefully. No matter how bad it’d have turned out.” Him taking over meant more than just that, he was anxious enough for three people and you know it must’ve sucked getting it done; he did it anyway, for you.

Neville snickered. “You should give yourself more credit. Don’t you remember the big drop of ‘93?”

You gasped, scandalised. “Mister Longbottom! I thought we agreed to never ever speak of that again!”

“Miss Lupin! If you didn’t want to speak of it, you shouldn’t have dropped it!”

The two of you stayed silent, glaring between each other with narrowed gazes. He cracked first, lips twitching open to bare a grin, you followed, giggling. The nerves you’d walked in with had gone, dissipated into that familiar warmth and comfort that Neville always gave you. You’d been lucky enough to realise what that feeling meant this year, instead of brushing it off to that same friendship feeling. When Neville planned the date, and sent you a letter with a suggested time and place, you knew your gut had picked right.

The two of you spent hours giggling and sharing food and telling tall tales of your childhood that somehow sounded real and not all at once. You made a game of guessing between each story; Neville won: 5:3. Along the line he pulled over a pot of daisies, muggle flowers he’d planted for you in secret when you’d sent him some chained together over the holidays, and made another game of naming each one.

• Neville tells you he loves you; you cry.

You’d been together for five months and the honeymoon phase was finally settling into a more domestic comfortability. Your relationship had flourished rather slowly considering you’d both liked each other beforehand, but your anxieties had finally begun to diminish and your affection towards each other was becoming less calculated.

Remus had bought a chocolate cake for the two of you to share when you told him you’d confessed with the words “I’m so proud of you” iced atop; it was a little joke on his part but one you both thoroughly enjoyed. His treatment of Neville hadn’t changed at all, except for maybe a kinder smile thrown his way during his classes, but Sirius took it a little more seriously and had tried the “hurt her and watch what happens” talk before you’d put a stop to it. You loved your dadfoot, but he could be a bit much, especially to your boyfriend — Merlin, you loved saying that — who was fragile at heart.

You’d only started venturing to Neville’s dorm a few weeks back, which Harry had at first side-eyed before realising the most you did was cuddle — he gagged, but you were more comfortable there than you had ever been anywhere else. Neville kept his space relatively clean with only a few loose papers smattered and spilled ink staining his desk, but the sheets of his bed smelled so like him that you were prepared to suffocate inhaling them.

Your boyfriend smelt like the wispy, airy scent of an earthy cologne that was always underlined by something so incredibly him, and something you could never quite get out of your nose — not that you’d ever want too. You’d begun to collect the shirts he wore, switching them out every couple days to keep their scent fresh and using them at night to sleep better, Neville just about combusted when he saw you in one.

Now, you were lay in his bed, leg hiked over his hip with your head on his chest and wearing one of his comfier shirts. The dorm was otherwise empty, the other boys gone to the after party of a victorious quidditch season; the music vibrated up through the common room, loud jeers leaking muffled through the gap under the door.

“Nev,” You spoke. “Did I ever tell you how much I love how you smell? ‘Cause I do.”

The breaths he took were even under you, rising and falling in a steady pattern, and your head followed as he chortled lightly. “Yeah, you have.” His thumb strokes along your arm. “But you smell much better.”

You move to rest your chin against his breastbone, “I do?” Neville hums. “What do I smell like?”

His eyes meet yours, the emerald depths piercing through yours with a heart-stuttering suddenness. He takes a minute to think, looking over the curve of your face with a gentleness. “Honestly?” He swallows.

You furrow your eyebrows. “Yeah?”

He takes a breath, one that you feel catch in his chest and bob his throat, “Like… like Amortentia.” He says tentatively. “I- I just– Professor Snape had it made for seventh years and there was a vial left on my desk, I knocked it over. It- it smelt amazing, like mum’s perfume and dad’s robes and… and you.”

You can’t do anything but stare at his flushed cheeks. Amortentia. The love potion. Neville smelt you in the love potion. Did that mean he loved you? Were you looking too deep into it? Surely, he thought it was too soon to love you, surely he needed more time to love you.

“Y/n? I’m sorry. It’s too soon, I’m sorry. So sorry. I should’ve just shut my mouth. I’m so stupid. I’m really sorry.” He gently manoeuvres you off of him, guiding your leg to the red duvet and moving your torso back to the mattress so he can sit up, create distances between you. Your head lands against the plush of his pillow, sinking into the cloud of it, and it’s his gentle manhandling that forces you back into the throes.

“No.” You spring up, grasping onto the muscle of his shoulder. “Nev, no, it’s not too soon. It’s not. I– I don’t know what you're trying to say but it’s never too soon.”

When he turns to you the flush of his cheeks has spread down his neck and dusted his ears, his eyes are wide and crazed — like when you’d confessed; he’s beautiful, more tempting than the allure of a Veela could ever hope to be. But he’s panicking and his breath grows ragged as he spits the words, he’s not being mean, not intentionally, but anxiety has a funny way of making people act differently.

His panic makes your eyes well over, clouding with panicked sorrow of their own. There’s a dam waiting to break as his lip quivers, cracking in the corners of your eyes and ready to drown trails down your cheeks.

“I love you.”

You sob. Neville scoots closer to you, gripping the fat of your thigh. “I’ve loved you for a long, long time and you– you’re just so sweet, and lovely, and perfect, and you do everything right, all the time. You could burn the world and I’d praise you for it because you’d have done it perfectly. I watched you be sorted and I knew I was done for; you looked like an angel, my angel. I love you.” He takes a breath. “You don’t have to say it back, I just needed you to know.”

The emotion swirls in your chest, you don’t know what it is, you can’t place it, it takes your breath and collects in your throat and you don’t know it, but you know what to say. “I love you, too. So much it hurts.” Your voice breaks through it, a cry caught in your throat.

“Oh.” It’s becoming his go to response with you, you seem to always know how to render him speechless.

~ 𐀔 ~ △⃒⃘ ~ 𐀔 ~

I can admit that this isn’t my best work, my heart wasn’t in it after all the kafuffle it caused, but likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated and extremely encouraging all the same!

[ednamode1]

I’m obsessed✨ and you will be too😮‍💨

Now completed!

[vomits0cutely]

What is it with Slytherin’s and falling for the most obvious people ever?

[smoshyourheadin]

hey b, so i had a thought could you do a popular!manwhore! fred x princess treatment!fem reader

i don’t mind where you go with it, smut, angst fluff whatever you like

i just have this in my head right now,

“yknow fred,” leaning in closer so the red head could see you peer through your lashes, “i think you’re hot, in fact i think you’re very sexy.”

you took a second before he could say whatever snide comment usually on his tongue, and you shrugged, “i just don’t want to get chlamydia.”

“and look” you continued, “i know you’ve never been serious in all of your… weasley little life but i’m just the kind of girl you take seriously.” with that you started to walk away. “good luck tho, you’ll find someone to suck your dick!”

why me, why now?

pairing: fred weasley x f! reader

a/n: OH THIS ATE DOWNNNNN i had sm fun writing this!! requests open <3

fred weasley was notorious at hogwarts, known for his pranks and, more obviously, being a weasley. but also for his effortless charm with the ladies. his reputation as a heartbreaker was well-earned, yet it didn't deter the flocks of girls who giggled and blushed in his presence. he thrived on the attention, relishing the freedom of fleeting flings and casual encounters. but there was one girl who was different, someone who didn’t just blend into the sea of admirers.

you were the epitome of elegance, always carrying yourself with a regal air that commanded respect. your beauty was undeniable, but it was your confidence and poise that set you apart. fred had tried to catch your eye many times, but you always seemed to look right through him, as if you were untouchable. it only made him more determined.

one evening, during a particularly lively gryffindor common room gathering, fred spotted you sitting alone, reading a book. it was the perfect opportunity. he sauntered over, a smirk playing on his lips.

“evening, princess,” he greeted, leaning casually against the arm of your chair.

you looked up, arching an eyebrow. “fred weasley,” you acknowledged, closing your book and giving him your full attention. “to what do i owe the pleasure?” you said with a sarcastic grin.

“i couldn’t help but notice you over here all by yourself. thought you might like some company,” he said smoothly.

you gave a small, knowing smile. “company, is it? and what makes you think I’m interested in your kind of company?”

fred leaned in closer, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “oh, i think you might enjoy it more than you’d care to admit.”

you let out a soft laugh, leaning in so your faces were mere inches apart. “y’know, fred,” you began, your voice low and sultry. “i think you’re hot, in fact, i think you’re very sexy.”

fred’s smirk widened, but before he could respond, you continued, “i just… don’t want to get chlamydia.”

his eyes widened in surprise, and you seized the moment. “and look,” you went on, “i know you’ve never been serious in all of your… weasley little life, but i’m just the kind of girl you take seriously.”

with that, you stood up, brushing past him. “good luck though, you’ll find someone to suck your dick!” you called over your shoulder as you walked away, leaving him standing there, stunned and speechless.

the common room was abuzz with whispers and snickers, all eyes on him as he stood there, his usual confident attitude momentarily shattered. for the first time, he felt a pang of something unfamiliar - a desire to prove himself worthy, to be taken seriously by you.

over the next few weeks, fred found himself seeking you out, but not with his usual playful banter. he was sincere, genuinely interested in getting to know you. he would sit with you in the library, offering to help with your studies, and he’d walk with you to classes, always respectful and considerate.

one afternoon, as you sat by the black lake, fred approached you, his expression earnest. “can i join you?”

you nodded, gesturing to the spot beside you. he sat down, silence stretching between you. finally, he spoke, “i know i haven’t exactly had the best reputation, but i want you to know i’m serious about this. about you.”

you turned to look at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. “why me, fred? why now?”

he took a deep breath. “because you’re different. you’re not like anyone else. and i don’t just want a fling with you. i want something real.”

your heart softened at his words, seeing a side of fred weasley that few ever did. “i’ll give you a chance, fred. but you have to earn it.”

he nodded, a determined look on his face. “i will. i promise.”

as the days turned into weeks, fred proved himself, showing you a depth of character that belied his carefree exterior. he treated you like a princess, not just with gifts and grand gestures, but with his unwavering attention and respect. slowly but surely, you found yourself falling for the red-haired prankster who had turned out to be so much more.

in the end, fred proved to himself and to you that he could be serious, and in doing so, he won your heart.

[mastermindmiko]

Request: Where reader is jealous of some girl who flirts ron. And ron and reader have passionate sex

Thank you so much for the request! I hope you don't mind, but I've left out the smutty parts because I feel uncomfortable writing them. Sorry it took so long.

Green eyed monster and green skin girl

Pairing: Ron Weasley + reader

word count: 1008

Summary: Lavender gets too close to your boyfriend

Warnings: jinxes, some sexual innuendos, y/n being kinda cruel, maybe some mistakes? noot proofread

Hey! If you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

Ron has always been a jealous person. Sometimes, it didn't even make sense why he was jealous. It had sprouted over years of insecurity and feeling like his brothers were better than him. I've always tried to reassure him and make sure that he felt loved.

What didn't make sense, though, was the fact that today, Ron wasn't jealous, I was. So when madame Sprout announced that Ron's partner was Lavender I was too busy fisting my pen in my palm and trying to ignore her obnoxious laughter than celebrating the fact that Neville was my partner which guaranteed me an O.

They were sitting in the seats a few feet in front of Neville and I, and after a few minutes, I couldn't resist the urge to glare at the back of Lavender's head.

Poor Neville was trying to explain something to me, but I couldn't help but fantasize about chopping off Lavender's long blonde hair or even better yet, setting her whole head on fire.

My blood was already boiling, but when Lavender let out a high-pitched giggle and decided to place her hands on my boyfriend's arm, I was seeing red. All I was thinking about was how after the lesson, I couldn't wait to give her a piece of my mind.

Suddenly, I didn't have to wait till the end of the lesson because her hair caught fire. She started screaming and shouting. There was chaos all around her, and I tried to ignore it as much as I could. I didn't know I was that angry.

"How could you do such a thing?" Hermione whispers, angrily from the chair behind me after madame Sprout poured water on Lavender's head, leaving her looking like a drowned rat. I shrug my shoulders and avoided her gaze, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please! Everyone here noticed the way you wanted to stab her." Hermione scolded, and I scoffed at her (very true) insinuation. I said, "I did not want to stab her."

"You did, too. I stopped explaining ten minutes ago." Neville pipped in from beside me. I rolled my eyes and huffed. I turned back to find that Lavender's hair was intact and after a quick drying spell, she looked normal again.

Lavender continued her antics and pressed on my boyfriend's bicep, no doubt telling him how fit he was. Ron flushes and awkwardly shifts away from her. He looks back at me to find me glaring at both of them.

Lavender looks back at where Ron's looking and notices me. Her face turns to disgust. She looks me up and down, then scoffs, and she looks back to the front. I growl and try to claw at her from behind my table while Neville holds me back. Neville says, "You can't go to Azkaban for murder!"

"You're right, Neville." I say while straightening out my uniform before sitting down in the stool again. I grab my pen and whisper, "There are too many witnesses here anyway."

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" I reply, feigning innocence. Thankfully, the lesson is over in a few minutes. Neville and everyone else leaves the greenhouse. I wait, noticing how Lavender has my boyfriend cornered, talking to him about something idiotic.

Ron stops her mid sentence and rushes out of the greenhouse before she can catch him again. Lavender huffs and flips a bit of her hair over her shoulder. It was my moment, I slung my back over my shoulder, and as I walked towards her, I flick my wand to preform one of my favourite spells.

After it's done, I grin, satisfied. She's done packing when I reach her. I clear my throat and she looks at me. The give her a fake smile then say, "You should really know not to touch what isn't yours, especially since I know that you know that Ron isn't yours."

"What are you going to do if I don't?" Lavender replies with a hand on her hip. I smile, and head to the door, leaving the greenhouse, but not before replying, "You'll know."

Ron's waiting outside, fidgeting anxiously. I ignore him and walk a few steps towards the castle. Ron follows muttering, "I'm so sorry, I would never-"

"Relax, Ron. You were great, she, on the other hand...she'll get her punishment." I mutter the last part of my sentence. Ron looks confused. He asks, "What do you mean?"

A few laughs are heard and then a loud scream. I grin, knowing what happened. Ron looks back at the havoc that's occurring, and his eyes go wide. I can only imagine what he must be seeing, Lavender with green skin and hair. Ron looks back at me, eyes wide. Then, his face turns into what can only be described as incredibly smug.

"You're jealous." Ron says, and I look at him, mouth agape. I was, but no way I was telling him. I roll my eyes, but the blush on my cheeks betrays me. I huff, "You're insane."

"You're very jealous." Ron replies and lets out a chuckle at the end. I pout and start marching away from him. Ron wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me to his chest.

He presses his lips to mine and raises his hand to cradle my face. It's slow and passionate. I open my mouth, and he deepens the kiss. I feel butterflies in my stomach. He parts, voice significantly deeper, "You're very sexy when you're jealous, darling."

He trails his other hand and fidgets with the hem of my skirt. My eyes widen, and I look around to find no one noticing. Ron whispers into my ear, "How about...we go to my dorm, and I'll remind you how you're the only one for me."

He presses a long kiss to my lips again, but this time, it's filled with lust. A need grows inside me, and I can't help but let out a small moan when he pinches my waist. Ron doesn't waste any time taking us to his dorm.

a/n: I think you can guess what happens next. I hope this was good, its my first time writing a request, I hope I did it justice.

[mermaidinthecity]

Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows Part 2: Stills (2011)

[letstrythisout4]

Hey, if you take requests, can you do series (bcz one-shot would be too short hehe), where reader is female and is really cocky, sassy and whatnot, basically giving off female Sirius Black vibes and she is very close with the golden trio, which makes them golden quartet. Anyway, I absolutely adore book Harry, because he is so SASSY!! So, could you make long imagine/series where book Harry and reader are both so sassy and stuff, but then Harry likes her and asks her out, but that is long time after, kinda semi-slow burn.

If you don’t like the idea or just don’t want to write it, it’s completely okay<3

♡︎✩⁂✽

Part 1:

“Shut up Malfoy.” an annoyed voice rang, interrupting Harry’s conversation with the pale sharp looking boy. 

Harry looked to where the voice came from and saw you. Leaning heavily on the right arm of the armchair, one hand pulling at your hair, the other holding a book that you appeared to be reading. “Don’t listen to him, this git has been told his whole life that it's Slytherin or nothing. None of the house are bad or good, they’re just places to sleep and anyone who says otherwise has a stick up their-”

“Enough. I know your parents wouldn’t be very happy to hear either of you speaking like that. Keep it up and I’ll have no choice but to tell your mothers.” Madame Malkin cut you off before you could finish your rant. 

“Yes ma’am.” the two tweens said politely, looking properly reprimanded despite the way you stuck your tongue out at the boy when the seamstress' back was turned. The woman finished her measurements and sent the boys to sit in the corner with you with instructions to “play nice”.

You decide to introduce yourself, shaking Harry’s hand with an air of self-importance that unlike Malfoy didn’t make Harry cringe. Harry watched as you interacted with the blonde boy, quick jabs were thrown at each other but they lacked the malice that Harry and Dudley had. A couple moments of ongoing debate later a haughty looking woman came over, “Draco, it’s time to leave.” She said your name kindly, “It was wonderful to see you, you must come by the Manor before school begins. Your mother is on her way, she said she won’t be long.”

You rolled your eyes as you let the woman kiss your forehead, “Thank you for everything, Mrs. Malfoy.” 

The woman waved away your thanks and turned expectantly to her son, “It was lovely to see you.” Draco said politely. After ten minutes of watching your verbal sparring , Harry couldn’t help but smirk at how the boy behaved in his mothers presence.

“Bye Draco.”

The moment the pair left the shop Harry had to ask, “Why are you friends with him?” The two of you hadn’t agreed on a single thing, only conceding briefly, most of your arguments had ended in ‘believe what you want to believe, and stay out of my way’. 

You flopped back in your seat stretching your arms upwards and yawning, “He’s not all that bad.” Harry gave a flat frown. “No seriously. He’s… we grew up together and we are distantly, distantly, related so it’s kind of an obligation. Also I’m not really allowed to talk to people, he’s one of like four kids our age I’m allowed to talk to. So better have an acquaintance I disagree with than nobody, you know.”

Harry actually didn’t know. He had never had the option, Dudley had always scared off anyone who remotely looked like they’d want to be his friend. His face must have shown his skepticism as you shrugged, “I don’t agree with him but pureblood circles are limited.” 

Before Harry could even begin to ask what that meant, a stoic looking man and woman entered the shop calling your name, “Well that’s my cue. It was nice to meet you and I’ll see you around, yeah?” You pushed out of your seat and waltzed into their eye-line before he could answer.

—

The next time Harry saw you was right before the sorting, you stood beside Malfoy looking disappointed at the boy’s behavior as he taunted Harry and Ron. He could vaguely hear you reprimanding Malfoy as the first years walked into the Great Hall. He watched as you walked up to the hat, back straight, head high, fist clenched as McGonagall placed the hat on your head. There was a long pause as the Hall waited, growing curiouser and curiouser as the minutes passed. Harry heard students turn to each other and whisper “Five minutes.” and later “Nine minutes!” Eventually the Hat called, “GRYFFINDOR!” and the table broke out into applause. 

You swiftly walked to the table, sitting beside Neville introducing yourself with a smile when the boy was visibly taken aback that you were speaking to him. “I was thinking this could be a fresh start for us, what happened on the outside is on the outside. What do you think?” you asked, looking hopeful. 

Neville’s mouth opened slightly in shock but quickly shook your hand, “Sounds brilliant.”

The sorting continued and the newly sorted Gryffindors ate to their heart's content. You introduce yourself to almost the entire table, smiling freely and brightly. Talking about classes and teachers you were excited for and how you dreaded the winter, despite it only being September. 

You only spared Harry a smile and a shoulder nudge as you walked up towards the stairs of the girl’s dorm. 

—-

“What did you idiots say to Hermione?” you snapped, strutting up to the pair's Herbology table. 

Harry and Ron shared a look.

You had quickly established yourself as young royalty at Hogwarts. Even those that didn’t like you, respected you. Ron said it was because you came from an old family, like the Malfoy’s and the Nott’s. Hence why none of the Slytherin’s messed with you, even though you were friends with most of their targets. 

Harry thought it was more than that. It was hard to not like you. You had the majority of the staff charmed, and completed tasks with an easy smile. Always one of the first to achieve a charm or potion. Plus everyone admired your loyalty, it had only been a month and everyone already knew not to get caught messing with Neville, Hermione and Dean. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Dean and Seamus had been innocently horsing around in a corridor when Seamus had shoved Dean a little too hard and he had knocked into a burly boy.

“Watch where you’re going Mudblood-”

CRUNCH!

If it wasn’t for the fact that apparition was impossible at Hogwarts, the student’s in the corridor would have sworn that was how you appeared. 

A strong punch right to the bridge of Marcus Flint’s nose had left the boy bloody. “Don’t ever talk like that again! If I ever hear you say that word again, I will personally make sure you never make it anywhere, Flint!” You grabbed Dean’s arm and pulled him away from the older boy before he could retaliate.

^^^^

The story spread like wildfire, the Hogwarts gossip mill adding its embellishments here and there. But the heart of the story changed the same, don’t fuck with your friends.

Hence why Ron looked ready to bolt at the sight of you, “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh so it was you then huh? I already told you nicely to leave her alone, Weasley.” You said crossing your arms. “Tell me what you said and don’t lie.”

Ron appeared to find his courage saying, “I said she was a nightmare and that no one could stand her.” Your mouth contorted in shock and fury. “But! But, I mean it’s true isn’t it? I mean she’s only got you.”

You smacked the red-head upside the head, “That’s so rude, Ronald! I mean, really!”

“It’s true!”

“I don’t care if it’s true! That’s a terrible thing to say about someone! She’s already getting bullied by Snape and some of the purebloods, she doesn’t need to be bullied by you too. Go apologize to her now, and then leave her the hell alone.” You walked away, linking arms with Neville who had also fallen under your protection after you hexed Pansy Parkinson into a week stay in the hospital wing. (Well technically no one knows it was you, Snape couldn’t find any evidence no matter how hard he tried, but…let's be real it was you.)

Ron looked at Harry for reassurance, but he could only shake his head. Honestly he had been working up the nerve to say something similar for the past few hours. Hermione had been missing for the past couple classes and it didn’t sit well with Harry.

This feeling was only amplified when Quirrel fainted, bursting into the Hall yelling something about a troll in the dungeon. Harry saw you, head bobbing through the crowd of Gryffindors searching for Hermione. He could hear you yelling at Percy, that he didn’t  understand, that “Hermione is missing! We have to go find her!” 

Percy grabbed you by your shoulders shaking you as the other prefect herded the Gryffindor students towards the dorms. “I’ll notify McGonagall immediately. But we “ he pointed to two of them “we can’t go looking for her.”

You made to sprint past him but Percy caught you by the arms, shoving you into a sixth year, ordering that they bring you to the common room.

Harry and Ron shared a quick glance before slipping away to find Hermione.

—

“I see that you’ve been developing some new friends.” Hermione heard your voice sing as you jumped onto her bed. 

She couldn’t help but chuckle at your theatrics. You batted your eyes at her, silently asking for details.

Hermione quite liked you, you were the first person to have ever stood up for her. Her entire life she’d dealt with bullying but nobody had stood beside her through it, so she was pleasantly surprised at how you took her under her wing. The first week had been hell, purebloods of all houses jinxing and hexing her but you had noticed. 

^^^^^^^

Hermione had been sitting alone at a Herbology table when you waved at her upon entering the room. You had set your stuff down briefly beside Malfoy (you were the only Gryffindor to routinely cross the unwritten house divide) “Why are you waving at her?” she heard Malfoy ask, sounding genuinely disgusted. “Do you even know who she is?”

“No but I’m not going to let her sit alone, that’s not nice.” you replied simply, picking up your things and moving beside Hermione. 

^^^^^^^

From then on you and Hermione had been thick as thieves. Hermione had always thought she needed to find her perfect match, someone who was more introverted, more studious, more rule-following; then she’d finally make friends.

And yet she didn’t mind you. Hermione had had her fair share of cocky kids being placed next to her in class. Growing up she was frequently the victim of teachers unofficially assigning her a talkative kid in an attempt to shut them up.

But when you sat next to her, self-assured and cocky beyond measure, she didn’t hate it. She wasn’t annoyed. Perhaps it was because you could back it up, easily being one of the best students. Perhaps it was because you aren’t a bully. Perhaps it was because you didn’t get offended when she asked you to stop talking so she could focus, only smiled and said “Of course.” and actually shutting up.

…Yeah that was a big part of it.

Either way, you had grown on her. (If she was being honest she was a little jealous of your confidence, even if it could be a bit much.)

“You’re the one who told me I should branch out.”

After the troll incident Hermione, Harry and Ron had become close. No longer relying on you as her person, her go-to, had been natural. The boys had apologized and all had been forgiven. Hermione hadn’t even really realized how she had begun to drift from you. No longer meeting up in the library to study or walking to classes together. 

“I did. And while I’m glad that you have, being honest here, I didn't think it was going to happen so soon. But I guess when you deal with a troll together, bonds grow.”

Hermione frowned at that. She didn’t want you to think she didn’t appreciate you. She liked the boys but you were her first friend, not only that but you were the first girl that didn’t make her feel inadequate. (At least not intentionally) 

She turned from her spot at her desk to look at you staring up at her bed curtains, “We’re still friends. You know that right? I mean the boys are great but you were here first, so that gives you priority.”

“Even with the troll?” you asked, pouting slightly. Hermione could tell you wanted it to sound like a joke but it was doing a terrible job of hiding your concern.

“Even with the troll.”

You were quiet and Hermione almost went on to continue to reassure you but then you spoke, “Well I am way better than those two so I guess I have nothing to worry about. I mean honestly, if you ever pick them over me, I’m checking you into St. Mungo’s.”

Hermione was quick to smack you with the nearest pillow, smiling as she heard you giggle despite the harsh hits.

The year was looking good with you, Harry and Ron by her side.

—--

Author's notes: sorry this took so long anon, I was racking my brain to find ways to insert this type of reader into the story in ways that would actually be interesting and not just rewrites of the story and I think I finally have a couple good ideas. 

Lemme know what you think and yes there will be more parts as requested, I don’t know when they will come out but there will be more.

(Note: we will see more sassy harry and reader in later parts)

[hpseeker99]

Hermione: And that's the plan! Hermione: Now let's see who was paying attention. *Kahoot music starts*

[crrrybaby-ao3]

Slytherin heirs✨

They’re the main characters in my story, basically, and their friendship is a delight to write. I enjoy their conversations and banter a lot.

My favorite is Theo, of course.🖤

Which one you liked the most?

[the-original-gays]

Shitty alighnment charts I made on my phone while board but made me giggle and hopefully will make you giggle too. (Mostly marauders era, some golden trio era) - Click on to see fully.