#harrypotterxreader

[biggestxsimps]

Study Date

Draco Malfoy x Male Reader

A/N: This requested over on our Wattpad! I really hope this is okay. Always, if there's anything you think should be changed, just let me know!

You loved to spend your evenings in the library, the smell of ageing pages and vintage furniture always made you feel comfortable. Of course, you weren’t just here to admire your surroundings, but to actually study.

Most of your classes you had, were with your boyfriend, Draco. And somehow, it became harder and harder to focus on classes and get work done. The two of you gossiping as your classes went on without you. Only truly focusing in your Potion’s classes, too afraid to be faced with Snape’s discipline.

That brings you to now, sitting behind a withering table on a just as old chair, as the lamp in front of you flickered ever-so-slightly. You lift your head, stretching your neck as you tear your eyes from the book that felt excruciatingly longer than it was, turning to your mumbling boyfriend.

His book laid open on the table and his hands were quick to copy the printed words onto a yellow-tinted parchment, the hushed words falling from his mouth as he wrote them. As he dips his quill, he glanced your way, noticing your eyes on him.

Leaving the quill in the inkwell, he faces you, a couple bones popping as he shifts out of his previously uncomfortable position. His eyes soften as they fall on you, a small tired smile creeping its way onto his face.

Your lips mimic his, it wasn’t often you saw Draco this relaxed, it was truly a sight for sore eyes. It almost made you sad, his smile not as familiar as it used to be. You sigh, that wasn’t a thought for now.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this before I either fall asleep or my hand falls off.” He shakes his hand awake as he lets out a scoff, you chuckle, agreeing with him. “I can barely keep my eyes open anymore.” You rub your palms against your aching eyes, trying to keep them open just a little longer.

“I say we take a break.” He leans back in his chair as he crosses his arms. “We’ve been at this for hours.” You hear a slight whine in his voice, you couldn’t deny, a break sounded great right about now. You nod, bringing your arms above your head, exaggeratingly stretching as you groaned.

Once your arms dropped, you brought one to the boy beside you, resting your hand against his cheek. His eyes flutter shut as he digs himself further into your touch, his fingers wrapping around your wrist, bringing you closer.

A tense breath left his lips “I missed you, this.” You let out a little chuckle. “We’re with each other almost all day, every day.” His eyes open back up to send you a playful glare, his other hand sending a soft hit to your leg. “You know what I meant. It’s not often we get peaceful moments, like these, to ourselves.”

You respond, a grin still slightly evident on your face. "I suppose this is nice, I can't say I haven't missed being with you, like this." Your thumb starts to draw little circles against his cold cheek. He hums, clearly enjoying the feeling of your warmer hand.

"You're truly gorgeous, Draco." You watch as pink starts to find its way on his face, his lips slightly twitching before he sunk into your shoulder. You both let out your own quiet laughs, his head dipping into the crook of your neck.

Your hand falls from his cheek, slowly grazing over his body before stopping against his lower back, your fingers twiddling with his loose robes. He follows your movements, bringing his arms around you and holding his hands against your own back.

“You’re too kind to me.” You feel Draco’s smile against your neck as he talks. Your head starts to lightly shake as you whisper back to him. “Only as kind as you deserve.” His head lifts back up, only a few inches from your face. “Thank you.” You feel his light breath fan against your lips before he presses his lips against your own.

The kiss is chaste, full of love and longing as you tangle your hand into his hair, pulling him deeper into you. His hands reach to your neck, wrapping around before slightly pulling you lower into him. The both of you part, breathlessly gasping before reconnecting.

He slowly pulls away after a few seconds, his cheeks about as red as his swelling lips. A comforting silence fills the room as your fingers comb through his hair, brushing down the messy flyaways. Draco slightly hums at the touch, eyes falling shut again.

Draco sighs as he falls back into you. "How are you feeling, Love?" You gently scratch against his scalp before he mumbles against you. "Mhmm.. Just tired." You nod, slightly pulling him off of you.

"C'mere." You lean back as you tap your thighs. He drozily lifts out of his chair, taking a seat in your lap. You keep your torso tilted back as his body completely falls into yours, arms wrapped around your shoulders as he lays his head in your neck.

"Rest well, Draco." Your hand draws and lightly drags around his back, your lips placing a soft kiss against his forehead. He whispers back a "G'night" before you hear his light snores.

A/N: I honestly enjoyed writing this, give me more Draco requests pleasee (jk)

Masterlist

- Written by Owner 1

[to-fly-with-clipped-wings]

Killing Butterflies Masterlist

Harry James Potter x fem! daughter of Regulus Black! reader

Summary: Being (Y/n) Black - the one and only heiress to the noble house of Black - who also happens to be the daughter of the infamous Regulus Arcturus Black (and the niece of the notorious criminal Sirius Black) is pretty tough to be frank. However, despite the titles, rules and expectations that befall you, there are only two things that you long for, at which you will not cease to achieve: Firstly, to fill in the big shoes left behind by your late father. And secondly, burn the butterflies that flutter within your stomach in the presence of Harry Potter (who happens to be the sworn enemy of, perhaps, your entire family).

Prologue:

'When had the pangs in his heart become so painful? So loud? He hadn’t a clue. So, when Regulus found it within himself to straighten up and gently remove his hand from your grasp, he didn’t register it – the complete and utter sadness taking hold of his nerves and paralysing them like snake venom. He silently pressed his lips to your forehead in a final goodbye.' OR: in which the vague exposition of Killing Butterflies is revealed.

[lucifer5lucy]

Dear Maggie, you'll be terribly missed.

i just found this in my on harry Potter board and i don't know what came over me , I cried.

After a while as I grow, seeing the wonderful actors who shaped my childhood and the others whose movies helped me through struggles pass away brings a high wave of bitterness through me.

However, I am grateful to have these movies and series of their blessed acting with me so I shall carry them in my heart for the warm solace they provide.

As Dumbledore once said, "The ones who love us, never truly leave us. "

[pandora-cry]

Englehs

Me and a friend being the biggest fans of Severus Snape

Español

Yo y una amiga siendo las más fanáticas de severus snape

[sachafaible]

Harry Potter: The Forgotten House

A Faible Fanfiction:

Layla stood in the Great Hall, her heart thudding louder than a dragon's roar. The Sorting Hat rested on her head, its whispered deliberations barely audible over the cacophony of thoughts racing through her mind. She wasn’t supposed to be here, not at Hogwarts, not making history.

Yet, here she was—transferred mid-term under circumstances shrouded in secrecy. Finally, the hat's brim opened wide, its voice booming.

"Serpentis!" Silence. Dead silence filled the hall as students and professors alike turned to one another in confusion. Serpentis? There was no such house. Professor McGonagall's eyes widened, but her voice remained steady.

"Students, please return to your seats."

Layla, disoriented but curious, followed Professor McGonagall out of the Hall, noticing the hushed whispers and pointed fingers. Something was off—terribly off. She was led down corridors and staircases she hadn’t seen before, deeper and deeper into the bowels of the castle. At last, they stopped before an unassuming stone wall. With a flick of her wand and a whispered incantation, the wall gave way to reveal a hidden entrance. Inside, torches burst to life, casting flickering shadows on ancient tapestries depicting a serpent entwined around a staff—a symbol Layla had never seen in any of her textbooks. In the center of the room lay a dusty, ornate box. Drawn to it, she hesitantly opened the box to reveal a crystalline orb, pulsating with a strange, faint light. An object of power, and possibly, the key to her newfound predicament.

Lost in thought, Layla barely noticed Professor McGonagall's grave expression.

"Layla, this is your heritage now. Welcome to Serpentis. You have much to learn, and even more to uncover."

Left alone in the dimly lit chamber, Layla felt an odd mix of trepidation and excitement. The torches flickered wildly, casting long shadows that seemed to dance on the walls. The room was a relic of forgotten times, filled with the subtle hum of ancient magic. She approached the nearest tapestry, her fingers grazing over the delicate threads. It depicted a group of wizards and witches, all wearing robes emblazoned with the serpent symbol, their expressions solemn. They stood around a stone altar, upon which lay a similar orb, though larger and more radiant.

Arcane runes surrounded the scene, glowing faintly under her touch. As she moved to the next tapestry, a feeling of unease settled over her. This one showed a battle, with students of Hogwarts facing off against dark, shadowy figures—perhaps Death Eaters or an unknown malevolent force.

The serpent-emblazoned wizards were at the heart of it, their magic powerful and overwhelming, yet there was an undeniable air of tragedy about them.

Layla's heart pounded as she turned toward the artifacts lined up on stone pedestals. There were worn weapons with intricate engravings, scrolls of parchment too fragile to touch, and an array of potion bottles whose contents had long since turned dark and murky. She gingerly picked up a small, silver pendant bearing the Serpentis crest, a tingling sensation running through her hand as she did so. The pendant thrummed with residual magic, whispering fragmented thoughts that were unintelligible, yet strangely comforting.

Her eyes landed on a large, dusty tome placed atop a pedestal in the center of the room. Its leather cover cracked with age, golden letters spelling out 'Historia Serpentis.' Carefully, she opened it, the pages creaking in protest. The book contained detailed records of the Serpentis House, its founders, and its ultimate downfall. A sense of urgency filled Layla as she read through descriptions of powerful spells and enchanted artifacts, all tied to the house's unique brand of magic.

Suddenly, the floor beneath her vibrated softly, as if in response to her reading. Layla glanced around, her hand slipping into her robes to clutch her wand tightly. Before she could further contemplate what she had just uncovered, she heard the faint sound of approaching footsteps coming from the makeshift entrance.

Layla's breath hitched as she moved silently into the shadows, her back pressed against the cold stone wall. The flickering torchlight did little to reveal her presence, blending her frame into the dark recess.

She clenched her wand tightly, her heart pounding in her ears, each thud marking time's slow crawl. The footsteps grew louder, echoing ominously off the stone walls. Then, a figure emerged—a tall, stern-looking woman with sharp features, wearing the unmistakable robes of a Hogwarts professor.

It was Professor Carrow, one of the less amiable members of the staff. Her eyes scanned the room, suspicion evident in every gesture. Layla watched as Carrow paced slowly, her gaze alighting on the tapestry of the battle with shadowy figures. The professor’s expression softened for just a moment, almost nostalgic, before hardening once more.

She approached the pedestal where Layla had found the Historia Serpentis tome, her fingers brushing against the dusty cover. Carrow muttered something under her breath, too quiet for Layla to decipher, and the book glowed faintly in response. With a deliberate sigh, Carrow shook her head. Appearing momentarily defeated, she turned on her heel and began to leave the room.

For a heartbeat, Layla considered revealing herself and asking the professor about Serpentis, but she refrained. It was too risky; she had no idea what Carrow might do if she discovered Layla breaking into this hidden chamber. Gathering information from a distance seemed far wiser for now.

Just as Carrow reached the entrance, she paused, her posture tensing. Layla held her breath, praying she wouldn't be discovered. However, instead of re-entering the room, the professor whispered an enchantment that caused the doorway to seal itself again, camouflaging the entrance once more.

Layla remained motionless until she was certain Carrow had left. Slowly exhaling, she scolded herself for not paying more attention to how Carrow had opened the entrance. Still, she had learned something valuable—others knew of this room, and it seemed even some of the faculty were involved in the mysteries surrounding Serpentis. She had to be cautious and clever in her next steps. Stepping out from the shadows, Layla refocused on the Historia Serpentis tome. Perhaps it would offer further insights. Yet, the encounter left her uneasy, realizing the extent of intrigue and danger that lay ahead.

[fanfictiondreamscape]

L.O.V.E. (?)

Name:  L.O.V.E. (?)

Genre: angst, angst, angst - more so the remiscent type of angst, and some super slight romance, and super slight vent fic

Pairing: Misc. X GN!Reader

Notes: This is what happens when I feel an oncoming panic attack and need to release whatever messed up stuff my brain is gonna form whether or not I like it. 

Fair warning for this little thing here, though: this is not very story based, much rather like a random train of thought. It may also be a little unhinged, but what can one expect when dealing with something that they don’t know how to navigate well in the slightest? 

This is also semi-based around the song “LOVE” by PEGGY, emphasis on semi-based. I was hopping between songs that I thought would be able to satiate my sense of despair and partial loathing, but that song was the kicker for this piece. 

Below the cut.

(03/01)

This started out okay.  This was easy at first. I was blind to the absolute disaster this would be to my wellbeing, but... I still want it.  I still crave it.  ....Maybe. 

Click.

(03/03) 

Crying doesn’t help. I’m not externally shaking. There aren’t tears streaming down my face. But it doesn’t feel right to not let it be outward.  I can feel my heart pounding in my ears.  I can also feel their hands over my ears and eyes when that one sound got me to flinch and freak out. I can feel their fingertips pushing my hair behind my ear, and their palm on one of my cheeks with their lips oh so gingerly pressing the slightest on the other.  I can feel their breath on my neck, and their hand on my leg, brushing sweet, simple little circles right by my kneecap. I can feel their hugs, tight and warm and comfortable and nice.  I can feel their gaze linger, and the tears that were about shed all because of a cheesy little moment in a TV show. I can feel the vibrations of their voice from behind, and their grip wrapped around my upper arm and my waist.  But as much as I can feel, that fails to negate the fact that this is both the beginning and the end.  Things are never gonna be exactly the same, not unless years pass by first.  This is a whole new door, and the options are limited as to what happens next.  Plan as many dates as one can desire, but I’m not them. I don’t have control over their decisions, and I know that I have no right to be particular about what they do with their time.  So this shouldn’t sting so much.  ... It does.  Why does it sting so much?  Lack of affection from previous partners? Lack of safety? Understanding?  Is it me? Is romance that foreign of a concept?  My cynicism can only go on for so long.  I can only maintain the thought that love is something that isn’t important for so long. 

Click.

(03/07)

At least, in my book, my brain and heart shouldn’t mix. They shouldn’t combine, because if they do, something will happen that I know I’ll come to regret in the future.  I know I want this.  I know I want the fleetingly teasing touches, the gentle affection, the mutual respect, the comfort, the safe space in the form of people.  I know I want it.  I know that I find that fact hard.  I know that my heart is actively trying to shun that knowledge, and that my brain is trying to enforce it.  I never thought that I’d end up here, honestly. I thought that I’d be able to go through life with little worry in this regard. I thought that love would come, and that it would come when necessary, when some unknown force knew that it was time to push it unto me.  Is this the universe doing just that, or am I rushing it do that?

Click.

(03/12) 

I shouldn’t have done this. That door should never have opened, and I should have never even fathomed letting it materialize. Nothing good comes from pessimism, panic attacks, and persistence.  This should be good.  I know that, logically, this is good. I know that this has the potential to work.  I know that this was the stipulation. The catch-22. The deal with the metaphorical devil.  I knew that when I let this happen.  When they leave, what do I do? If they’re alone together, I can only accept that fact. That’s all there is to do.  I wish I could find the capacity to cry about this. 

Click.

(03/14) 

I’ve never been in love before this. Never really had a chance to, if I’m being honest. I‘ve always found it cheesy, and my focus was never directed towards something that “shallow”.  I’ve been questioning if it really is that shallow, now.  This whole deal has been good. Really, it has.  It’s nice, feeling like I’m appreciated as opposed to hearing it from the mouth of my mother, father, or family member. Even teachers, bosses, and coworkers can say it and it doesn’t hold as much meaning as the small actions and expressions they direct at me.  It only just now dawned on me that this is selfish.  I want to love, I want to be loved, and I want to share love.  Physical, emotional, mental - I want love to be a part of my life.  But they come first, that’s the end of this story. That’s all there is to it.  However, love is selfish by nature.  Someone wants someone else to themself, or to themselves.  They want that person or people to be there with them at all hours of the day.  They want to hold their hands, and press fluttering pecks to their pulse points.  And now, it’s in my grasp. It’s been in theirs, though, and now I feel awful for thinking about how wrong my thought process has been.  ...  I have a feeling that I need to calm down before this progresses any futher. That, or I need to up my anti-depressant prescription.  Whichever comes first, I guess.

Click. 

Slam.

Rustle. 

“I need to get some sleep.” 

- 

“Still, I’ve never been in love.

Is that something that I want?

Convince me I’m fine, 

I’m not losing my mind.

Maybe it’s just not for me. 

No! 

I don’t need L-O-V-E.

Maybe I’ll just wait and see.

I might need L-O-V-E....”

[jxj-tracks]

Harry Potter Boys Jealousy

This is my first time writing on here, so it’s probably gonna be bad.

HARRY:

•Idk i feel like hes super up himself, so if he saw another guy flirting with you he’d just be like “hey” and hope that scared them off 😭

•would probably be talking to Hermione and Ron when he saw a guy with you

•my guy deffo has anger issues but like ig no one taught him anything >:)

•honestly I don’t think he’d care that much, he’s the chosen one after all

•I think he’d act cocky as a defense mechanism 🥋

DRACO:

•mf managers to be incredibly insecure but incredibly up himself all at once

•saunter over to you and start glaring at the guy

•straight up insulting the other dude but he just blames his daddy issues for everything

•honestly tho, he’s more so just insecure and scared that you’ll leave him

•his insults suck, but he has a big friend group that makes him seem a lot scarier 🫠

MATTHEO:

•OH MY GOD I AM LIKE ON MY KNEES

•just kidding lmao

•he is DEFINITELY the overprotective guy, but still gives you space

•however, if he sees another man flirting with *his* partner, 🫵😬

•ok so pretend this guy came up to you and started flirting with you

•mattheo Sees and obvi isn’t happy

•but cause he loves yous and doesn’t want to make you mad, he simply puts his arm around your shoulder and says smth like

“hey babe, who’s this?”

•if the guy doesn’t get the message to leave, Theo will get straight to the point

•but who knows, maybe he would just watch you from afar to see how you handle it

FRED:

•he’s a ghost at Hogwarts now so it’s not like he can do anything

•IM JUST KIDDING MAN ITS FINE

•he’s alive and well tho 💪

•definitely comes straight up to yous and hugs you from behind (tall guy shit 😖)

•probably start cracking jokes

•but like more directed for you

•so the guys just awkwardly standing there

•if he doesn’t leave yet, Fred will pointedly say

“excuse me, me and my girlfriend have somewhere to be

GEORGE:

•would be way more cautious of how to approach this, but also way more chill then george Jo

•he knows that you won’t do anything

•he’ll still come up to you and put his arm around your shoulder

•introduce himself, but wouldn’t make the guy uncomfortable 😖

•just subtly hinting that you’re taken and not interested

RON:

•bro idk what you’re talking about I didn’t forget ron 😐

•anywho, he’s probably too busy adventuring with the golden trio

•however I’ll set a scene

•you’re at dinner in the great hall, at the ravenclaw table (whether it be your house or you’re sitting with a ravenclaw friend)

•Ron’s sitting with the trio eating

•until a ravenclaw guy is clearly flirting with you

•he doesn’t even notice at first, Hermione is the one that points it out to him

“Bloody hell”

•at first he doesn’t know what to do

•but he lets you decide what to do on your own

•he’ll catch up to you when you leave the great hall and ask what happened

#harrypotter #reader #yn #harrypotterxreader #draco #dracomalfoy #dracomalfoyxreader #ronweasley #ronweasleyxreader #fredweasleyxreader #georgeweasleyxreader #mattheoriddle #mattheoriddlexreader #slytherin

[haileygarciasunshine]

Godricks Hollow

Pairing: Harry Potter x Fem!Reader

Written: December 15th, 2020

Posted: December 15th, 2020

Word Count: 1,665

Warning: None

This was requested from JulzLovDraco4Eva on Wattpad!

Summary: Y/N Granger has been friends with the Golden Trio for as long as she could remember, but her loyalty is tested when the group is on the run.

Christmas Masterlist

Walking through the Hogwarts courtyard, you were engrossed in one of your class textbooks. Your attention being on the book, you weren’t watching where you were going. It wasn’t long before you walked into someone.

“Hey! Watch it!” Draco exclaimed, his voice filled with annoyance. Turning to face you, his expression concerted into something unreadable. “Filthy Mudblood.” He spat. 

“Leave her alone, Malfoy.” Harry’s voice sang through your ears, as he joined your side. 

Rolling his eyes, Draco didn’t bother to respond before he stormed off with his minions in tow. 

“T-Thanks, Harry.” You nodded not bothering to take your gaze off the ground.

“Of course,” He beamed throwing an arm around your shoulder. “What’re friends for?”

Throughout your years at Hogwarts, you had similar encounters. Whenever you seemed to be in trouble Harry always appeared at your side. You were always quick to brush it off as him being protective over Hermione’s little sister. It didn’t take long for the rest of the group to welcome you with open arms. Ron was always protective of you as well, but it was never to the extent that Harry was. 

“Y/N!” A familiar voice echoed through the hall. 

Whirling around you collided with a firm chest knocking you off balance. A pair of strong hands were quick to wrap about your elbows attempting to keep you steady.

Giggling you couldn’t help the smile that made its way along your lips. “Hi, Harry.”

Clearing his throat, Harry suddenly looked visibly uncomfortable. “Hi, Y-Y/N.”

An awkward silence enveloped you both. 

“I...I, uh.” Harry scratched the back of his neck as he was contemplating his next set of words very carefully. 

“Yes?” You questioned, gazing upwards at him with a hint of hope in your eye.

“I...I was wondering if you would want to be my date to Bill and Fleur’s wedding?” He rushed out, his voice wavering slightly.

A toothy grin made it’s way to your lips. “Oh, Harry!” You exclaimed as fireworks erupted in your stomach. Quickly, you threw your arms around Harry’s shoulders as you pulled him in for a tight hug. 

Harry tensed at your reaction, before he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. The sound of his chuckles rang through your ears.

“I’ll take that as a yes then.” 

---

On the day of Bill and Fleur’s wedding, there was tension in the air. There were rumors of He Who Must Not Be Named, attempting to rise in power once again. Arthur heard at work that the Dark Lord was planning to overthrow the ministry, but nobody knew when.

Since you were staying at the Burrow until the wedding, you couldn’t shake the thoughts of darkness looming around every corner, while the Dark Lord could strike at any moment.

Being friends with Harry, you knew he would go up against the Dark Lord. But the question that plagued your mind was if you were ready to face He Who Must Not Be Named.

Ron would go, which meant of course your sister would go. She and Ron had been inseparable as of lately. Sighing, you knew you would go to protect your friends. 

Your mind was beginning to become clear as you sat by the fireplace. However, you didn’t hear Harry join you until he nudged your shoulder gently.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” He questioned offering you a warm smile.

“Oh, um.” You sighed. “Just thinking about how everything’s about to change.” You shrugged.

Harry turned his attention to you, as he nodded in acknowledgment. “It’ll be for the better.”

Nodding you locked gazes with him as the crackling sound of the fireplace was the only thing heard. The thought of kissing Harry quickly overwhelmed your mind. 

“Hey, Guys.” Ron greeted as he quietly made his way down the spiral stairs.

Taking a breath, you averted your gaze to your shirt as you smoothed down nonexistent wrinkles. 

Ron quickly bounded over to where you and Harry sat before he took his place in between you. 

“What’d I miss?” He questioned beaming at you.

---

It was finally the day of the wedding. Everyone was scurrying around the house and outside in an attempt to get the last minute things ready. All the bridesmaids spent the day getting ready. Fleur’s bridesmaids mostly consisted of you, Ginny, Hermione, and her little sister, Gabrielle. 

The ceremony went by rapidly, it felt like a blur. When it came time for the reception, you were able to slip away unnoticed. 

Taking your heels off, you walked barefoot through the grass as the brisk night air danced along your skin. Goosebumps began forming up and down your arms. A content sigh left your lips, as you gazed at the stars.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” Harry spoke as he walked up beside you.

You hummed in response, turning to face him.

“Harry...You look..”

“I know-” He became flustered, as he dropped his gaze to the ground.

“Handsome.” You muttered as you took in his appearance.

“O-Oh, thank you.” Harry spoke, “You look beautiful.” 

A blush crept its way along your cheeks. Before you could protest, Harry had shrugged off his suit jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders. Quickly he reached down taking your heels from you.

The smell of Harry overwhelmed your senses. Tugging the jacket around you tighter, fireworks erupted in your stomach.

“We should get back before they notice we’re gone.” 

Frowning, you nodded your head. Just as you and Harry re-entered the tent, Kingsley Shacklebolt’s Patronus announced the ministry had fallen, while Death Eaters were on their way.

Harry's firm hand was quick to grab yours, as wedding guests began to panic and Death Eaters began showing up. Harry pulled you behind him as he began searching for the rest of the group.

“Harry!” Hermione called rushing toward’s you, as Ron was fast behind her. Before you knew it, you were staring at the familiar Tottenham Court Road.

Your sister's voice echoed through your ears. “We have to find somewhere to change.”

---

Light snow began covering the ground as you and Harry ventured to Godrick’s Hollow. 

It had been months since you were first on the run. Every day, everyone gathered around the radio listening to the names of the fallen in hopes you didn’t hear a familiar name.

Walking through Godrick’s Hollow, your arm was linked through Harry’s. The small gesture sent comfort through your body. The streets were dimly lit, which allowed you both to venture around without really being seen.

As you walked through the cemetery, you cleaned off the headstone, only to see the very symbol you had been questioning. The hair on the back of your neck stood at attention. Fear began washing over you.

“Harry?” You gently called. Gazing around, your eyes landed on the man.

Confusion danced along your face before you gazed in front of you.

James & Lily Potter.

Kneeling, you pulled your wand out, making a small wreath on their grave. Standing up, you linked your arm back through Harry’s as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Merry Christmas, Harry.”

--- 

As you were running through the forest, you could feel your breaths becoming more and more shallow. Death Eaters were chasing you while yelling spells. 

It had been a few months since your group had gone on the run. Hunting Horcruxes began taking its toll on everyone. Exhaustion was being to feel like an understatement. Anywhere you went, everyone was on edge ready for the next attack. Not even the tent felt safe anymore. 

In no time, each of you was captured by the Death Eaters. It wasn’t surprising that they had taken you to Malfoy Manner. 

“Take the rest of them,” Bellatrix spoke moving to stand before you. “I need to have a little chat with this one, girl on girl.” She taunted, as her eyes had a hint of mischief in them.

Gulping, your stomach began feeling queasy at the thought of being alone with Bellatrix. 

Pushing you down, your back was met with the feeling of chilly wood. Before you knew it, she was straddling you as she screamed in your face.

Pinning your arm down, she began carving the word Mudblood into your skin. Tears began racing down your face as you felt your strength weakening by the second. Screams fell past your lips.

“Let her go!” Harry’s voice yelled.

“Well, well, well,” Bellatrix taunted as she got up. “If it isn’t lover boy, here to rescue the damsel in distress.”

---

After the fight at Malfoy manner, Ron and Hermione apparited to Shell Cottage, while Harry apparited to Saint Mungo’s hospital. The whole way, you had insisted you were fine and that you didn’t need medical attention.

Harry didn’t listen to your pleas as he raced to the emergency entrance of the hospital insisting you be healed right away.

Sitting on the hospital bed, you gazed at the ceiling counting tiles. The healer had come in and healed your scar rather quickly, however you were just waiting for the doctor to let you leave.

“Hey,” Harry spoke softly, as he took a seat beside your bed.

You hummed in response.

“I...I’m sorry.” He huffed. “I...I couldn’t stand to see you hurt. I couldn’t stop it..” His voice trailed off as he dropped his gaze to the floor.

“It’s not your fault, Harry.” You whispered, reaching over and placing a hand on his cheek.

Closing his eyes, he leaned into your touch. “I should’ve been there to stop it.”

Gazing at him, you felt the fireworks return. 

“I...I.” Harry let out a frustrated sigh. Opening his eyes, he stood up before taking your face between his hands. He never broke his gaze from you. Leaning down his nose brushed against yours as his breath danced along your lips. Placing a chaste kiss to your lips, he rested his forehead against yours. 

At that moment, nothing else seemed to matter.

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[taylorgrace-writes]

Looking At Him

Pairing: Draco x reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1k

Genera: Angst & Fluff

When you feel you have been staring at him for too long, you have to tear your eyes away, even if you don’t want to. He can’t realize you like staring at him because if he knew, then he would talk to you and you know that wouldn’t end well. You know you’re in love with him, but the thought of that scares you. Not the part about loving him, but the part about loving. You’ve never loved anyone before and you don’t want to. The fear, the terror, the anxiety that comes with loving someone is what's holding you back. It’s what's always held you back. This boy though, the way his lips move when he talks or how his eyes seem to gleam when he talks about something passionate, he’s different. Different from any other person you’ve met before. You know little about him, only that his name was Draco.

Your closest friend Cedric knows about your little fascination over him, but that's it. No one else. You often find yourself staring at the side of his head in potions class or marveling at him from across the room in the great hall. Fear surrounds you and a blush creeps up on your cheeks whenever Cedric catches you staring at the boy. You always glance around, hoping no one else saw you longing for the bleach-blond boy. Just the thought of someone catching you peering at him has your blood running cold through your veins.

To some people, it was easy to talk to someone. To get to know them. To befriend them and eventually fall in love with them, but it wasn’t that easy for you. You wished it was. You know you wouldn’t survive the heartbreak. Your heart wouldn’t be able to be mended if it was broken into thousands of pieces.

You had closed yourself off to love. You refused to never fall in love again, but when you saw him for the first time, you knew you were screwed.

Today was Thursday. It was the last week before Christmas, and all of your classmates were buzzing with excitement and joy. Classes had been busy as professors were trying to get in last-minute quizzes and assignments before winter break began. You had woken up this morning to find an envelope slipped under your bedroom door. Your name had been written across it in beautiful cursive. You smiled to yourself as you gently opened the envelope to reveal a brief note inside.

Meet me in the astronomy tower tonight at 9. -D

D? Who could D be? If it was Cedric messing around with you, he was going to get it. You neatly folded the letter and set it on your dresser before making your way to the great hall for breakfast before classes started. Cedric had beat you down there, as he was already sitting at one of the tables talking to a cute Ravenclaw girl you recognized as Cho. As you made your way over to them, a group of Ravenclaw girls surrounded them, taking Cho with them and leaving Cedric there. When he caught a glimpse of you walking over, he smiled brightly.

“What was all of that about?” you asked as you sat down beside him and started filling your plate with eggs.

“I asked Cho to the Yule Ball, and she said yes.”

“That’s great, Cedric!” you beamed as you gave him a side hug.

“So when are you going to ask Malfoy?” Cedric teased you, causing you to choke on the water you were drinking. Your big eyes looked over at him as you pressed a finger to your lips.

“Shhh, keep it down, will you?”

“Oh, come on Y/N, just talk to him already.”

“Nope. No. Not going to happen.” You said, shaking your head as you took a bite of the eggs on your plate.

“Why not? What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“Oh, let's see, I could make a gigantic fool of myself and then he would tell his friends and then the entire school would find out and I’d be the biggest laughingstock this school has ever seen!”

“Okay, jeez, calm down.” You let out a breath of air before continuing.

“Were you the one who put that note under my door?” you ask him.

“Note under your door? What? No.” Cedric and you had been best friends since your first year at Hogwarts and you knew he would never lie to you. You slump in your seat, putting your elbow up on the table and resting your head in your hand. You let out a frustrated sigh as you tried to figure out who could have left it. “So are you going to tell me about this note or…” Cedric trailed off as he caught you looking towards Malfoy. “Hello? Earth to Y/N!” Cedric said, snapping his fingers in front of your face to gain your attention. You look at him, startled for a second, before a slight frown forms on your face.

“I was doing it again, wasn’t I?” Cedric shakes his head in agreement as he gives you an apologetic smile. He pats your shoulder gently before asking about the note again.

“So this note…?”

“Oh, right, this morning when I woke up I found an envelope with my name written on it that must have been slipped under the door the night before. When I opened it, there was a note inside saying to meet at the astronomy tower at 9.” You tell him.

“Well, who was it from?”

“That’s the thing,” you sigh. “I don’t know. The person who signed it only put D. There have to be at least a hundred students whose name starts with D.'' You exasperatedly tell Cedric as the bell rings, signaling that breakfast was over and classes started in 10 minutes. You and Cedric both stand up, grab your school bags and file out of the great hall to your charms class.

The day goes by slowly as you wonder who could have left you the mysterious note. Finally, you make it to your potions class. You spend most of the time daydreaming about a certain blonde boy as Cedric takes notes and pays attention to the both of you. With five minutes left until the end of class, Professor Slughorn allows you all to take amongst yourselves as he discusses grades with a few students. You and Cedric mingle a bit before you notice a Slytherin girl walking up to Draco. She has tall, slender legs and beautiful hazelnut hair that flows down her back. She looks beautiful standing next to him as she giggles and flirts with him. You know Draco isn’t yours, but you can’t help but feel a hint of jealousy as the girl playfully nudges his arm. From where you're seated, you can hear the girl talking to him, asking if he has a date yet to the Yule Ball. He smiles down at her and shakes his head no. You know what’s about to happen next. She’ll ask him and of course, he’ll say yes and they’ll go to the dance together and then they’ll start to like each other and begin dating and at that point, you’ll just have to be homeschooled as there was no way you could survive seeing the two of them together every day. Tears form in your eyes as the bell rings and you dash out of the room and up to your bedroom. You flop down onto your bed as you cry into your pillow. You stay there until dinner is over, Cedric coming to check in on you and bring you some leftovers he was able to sneak to you.

“Feeling any better?” he asks as he rubs your back as you finish the food.

“Yeah, I guess,” you murmur.

“Ya know what? I think you need to forget about Draco. You have another admirer who wants to see you in two hours, so let’s get you feeling confident.” Cedric tells you. He’s right. You know he’s right, but how are you supposed to move on from someone so easily? You take a deep breath before looking at Cedric and giving him a smile.

“You’re right. Let’s do this.”

In no time at all is eight and Cedric has to leave to go back to his own room.

“Before I go, just remember to be yourself, and don’t get caught,” he tells you with a laugh.

“Thanks, Cedric. What would I do without you?” You tell him with a smile before giving him a hug.

“I have no idea, just be grateful you have me,” he tells you. "I’ll see ya in the morning. Don’t forget to tell me how it goes!” With that, Cedric closes your bedroom door as you try your best to put some makeup on your face before heading out to the astronomy tower.

The corridors are dark as your wand lights the way for you up to the astronomy tower. As nervous as you are, you try to remind yourself that this is a good thing. When you reach the last step, you take a deep breath before opening the heavy wooden door. At first, you don’t see anyone in there before you spot a head of bleach blonde hair looking down and reading a book. As the door closes shut behind you, he looks up, placing the book down, and walks over to you. This must be a mistake or some kind of cruel joke. Your heart races as your palms get sweaty as you blink owlishly at the boy before you. Draco. You gulp as you squeak out a quick sorry before turning back to the door and opening it.

“Wait,” he calls out. You hesitantly turn back around to see his face flushed, lip trembling, almost as if he’s nervous. As if he’s nervous of you. “Wait, don’t go. I know we’ve never talked before and you probably don’t even know that I’m in Potions with you and you have no idea what my name is but…” he trails off, bringing up a hand to scratch nervously at the back of his neck as he looks down at his shoes.

“Draco,” you murmur as his head raises. “Your name is Draco.”

“Yeah,” he says, giving you a slight smile. “And your Y/N.”

[aspiringauthorintraining]

HARRY POTTER

HARRY POTTER IMAGINES MASTERLIST

James Potter

Favor for a Friend

Potter’s Super Date #1 #2

Second to None  #1 #2 #3

Remus Lupin

Chocolate

Selfish (1) (2)

Newt Scamander

Magizoologist-in-Training: #1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #6 #7

Draco Malfoy

It’s All Your Fault

Zabini’s Honeymoon

[mentally-in-northern-italy]

The Best Potioneer (pt. 2) — Harry Potter x reader

***not my gif***

(pt. 1 can be found here)

Summary: You despise Harry. Your Slytherin friends seem to have strong opinions of him already, but during your sixth year, you also seem to have found a reason to absolutely hate the boy. But when you’re forced to work on an assignment together and stay up all night, is it possible for those feelings to change?

Word Count: ~3.4 K

A/N: Part 2 is finally here! I’m so sorry for the delay, school is really being a pain right now. Thank you for all the love you guys gave pt. 1, and I hope you like pt. 2, which will be the last part (unless I get inspired to write another one or something)! This one is very different from anything I’ve written before, and you’ll see what I mean when you read lol. Very dialogue-heavy. Enjoy!!

Another reminder: Thank you to everyone who sent in requests! I really, really appreciate it! But, since school has started, requests will most likely be delayed, as I will only be able to work on them when I have the time to. They are still open, though, so feel free, but please be aware that they will probably take a while. Thanks!

____________________

“This,” you observed, utterly unimpressed, “is just a wall. Do you need your glasses checked, Potter?” 

You had shown up to the seventh floor with your bag and all your books, as promised. Harry had already been there waiting for you, leaning on a wall. He saw you approaching and had led you down the hallway, without exchanging any words. He stopped in the middle to face a bare wall, which earned him a scoff from you.

“Just wait,” he told you as he closed his eyes and visualized exactly what he wanted in the room.

“What are you doing?” you question as you walk from your spot behind him to stand beside him, “If we get caught--”

“We won’t,” he told you impatiently, “Now, please let me focus.”

You shut yourself up despite all the questions that were fighting to make their way out of your mouth. You tapped your foot impatiently, not exactly sure what was supposed to be happening. 

Before you knew it, the wall that you could’ve sworn that had been there previously, had turned into a door. The door didn’t exactly look inviting, holding a similar appeal that an old Victorian library would hold. 

“Come on,” Harry turned to you and gestured to you to go in, “You first.”

You would’ve scoffed at this, except you were incredibly stunned. How hadn’t you known about this room before? You took a tentative step forward and reached for the handle, turning back to Harry to check for confirmation. He nodded once.

You opened the door. It creaked slightly as you took a step inside. A small gasp escaped your lips.

“The room of requirement!” Realization set in for you as you looked around, “I’ve heard about this.”

The room was grand. That was the only way to describe it. It was dimly lit, stacked with books on old bookshelves that looked like they would collapse at any second. At the bottom of the bookshelves were cupboards, that seemed to contain even the rarest of ingredients. In the middle of it all, there was a large wooden table with two chairs on one side. Right beside it, was a rug that looked old and inviting, like something that belonged to an elderly grandma. This was exactly what you needed.

“Yeah,” Harry said as he followed in behind you and shut the door, “I came across it last year when we had our DA meetings.”

“DA?” you turned to face him, turning your back to the large wooden table. 

“Oh, uh, Dumbledore’s Army.” 

“Right,” you nodded as you turned around again, looking at the bookshelves and cabinets filled with Potions ingredients lining the walls, “No Slytherins were allowed, I presume?” You mocked.

“Well,” Harry tried to diffuse the tension, “I don’t know about all Slytherins… but you definitely wouldn’t be allowed.” He teased lightly.

“Oh, sod off,” you told him as you rolled your eyes. You struggled to fight the smile that was threatening to break upon your lips. Your friends hadn’t mentioned Harry would be able to make you smile so easily. Or that he would let you, a Slytherin into a room that was a designated meeting spot for Harry and his friends last year. Now that you’ve come to think of it, they didn’t mention a lot of things about Harry. 

When it really came down to it, you realized in that moment that you had never really had a casual conversation with Harry. Your conversations were always filled with a competitive need to embarrass the other; there was no room for casual teasing. However, now, standing in this room with Harry behind you, you couldn’t say that you minded his presence, exactly. Like you had expected to. 

You couldn’t help but ask yourself, is he really that bad? 

___________________

[1:34 AM]

“Slughorn,” you decided as you sighed, “sucks.”

You and Harry were both seated at the table, sitting with your bodies slightly positioned towards each other. You were both hunched over various copies of Potions textbooks, searching desperately for any information about Memory Potions.

“Like Snape was any better,” Harry muttered distractedly, barely glancing up, as he flipped through a copy of The Art of Potion-Making, 6th edition.

“He was!” you defended him, straightening your posture and looking up at Harry’s face. Your eyes instantly landed on the tongue that he was sticking out slightly, concentrating on writing something down that he had found in the book. The way he was squinting his eyes, despite him wearing glasses. Ugh. No. Stop it!, you told yourself. You snapped your eyes back down to your textbook, “Er--, yes, Snape! He might have been a git, but at least he was a practical git. He would never give us an assignment like this.”

“He hated me,” Harry told you as he looked up from his book. He shuddered involuntarily being reminded of all the Potions classes he had to suffer while Snape was Potions Master.

“Well,” you looked up again, smirking slightly, “some would argue he sort of had the right idea with that.” 

Harry sent you a look at which you chuckled slightly. The chuckle was soft, light-hearted. He had never heard you laugh like that. Oddly for Harry, he didn’t seem to mind the insult like he normally always does. On the contrary, he rather liked the sound. He didn’t know what this foreign feeling inside his chest was-- this feeling that seemed to only grow when he caught a glimpse of your hair falling onto your face as you scanned multiple textbooks at once, but he did know that he wanted to hear the sound of your laugh again.

________________

[2:06 AM]

You yawned as you pushed yourself onto your elbows. You and Harry were now situated on the rug, with you laying on your stomach, continuing your research and Harry sitting up-right trying to keep his eyes open as he, too, tried to write down all the ingredients he had managed to find in one of the textbooks. 

Books were sprawled all around you. You reached to grab a copy of Advanced Potions, when you realized the closest one was actually Harry’s. 

“Merlin, what’d you do to this thing?” you questioned as you turned the tattered book over to examine it, “Throw it down the Grand Staircase?” 

“[Y/N], give it--” Harry had looked unusually alarmed when he caught sight of you inspecting the Potions book that was the secret to his success this year. He reached his hand out to take it from your hands but he was too late, as you had already opened the cover to find “Property of the Half-Blood Prince” scrawled neatly inside. 

You looked up at Harry and then back down again. The look on Harry’s face was priceless. 

You couldn’t help but start to laugh. Your quiet laughter soon grew loud and obnoxious as you sat up. The room echoed with your laugh, and it would seem, so did Harry’s heart. 

“The Half-Blood Prince?” you choked out, in between laughs, “Out of all the nicknames you’ve been given, you choose that one to write in your books?” Your stomach was aching slightly and your cheekbones hurt but your laughter didn’t falter. You clutched your stomach, as you continued to holler.

Harry’s face was flushed red. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be relieved or embarrassed. Or both. 

“No--” Harry stuttered as he tried to talk over your giggles that wouldn’t seem to stop, “No, I didn’t write that!”

“Oh yeah?” you teased, “Did one of the girls in your fanclub write it, then?” 

“I mean,” Harry scratched the back of his neck. He was sure now that he should be embarrassed, “I would assume so.”

This only made you laugh more.

Not that Harry minded, though.

________________

[2:59 AM]

Harry wanted to talk to you. 

He was sitting a few feet away from you. You two were still situated on the rug, both sitting up-right now. Both of you were starting to get tired, as you stifled yawns while consistently pouring over material that never seemed to end. You and Harry had both taken your ties off and thrown them on the floor. Your robes were tossed on the floor, in a manner that would convey a very different message as to what you two were doing than what you two were actually doing, had someone walked into the room. 

Harry had tried to call you over for help multiple times now. Only so he could talk to you, so be it if it was only about the quantity of stewed mandrakes that would be required for the recipe. 

But each time, you had given him a response and moved back to your spot, returning to your quiet study of textbooks. 

Harry audibly sighed, hoping to get your attention, even if it was only an annoyed glance in his direction. 

“What is it now, Scarhead?” you asked through a yawn. You were tired, so incredibly tired. But it seemed that whenever Harry looked at you, you seemed to wake up a little. 

“I didn’t say anything,” he tried to play it cool. That’s what he was supposed to do, right? 

“Oh,” you yawned again, to which Harry yawned back, “my bad, Oh Chosen One, I sincerely apologize.” 

“Are you really going to use up all the names in one night?” He tried not to smile.

You did nothing to conceal your smile, making Harry’s smile appear on his face as well. You scooched over until you were sitting right beside him. 

“Not if I can help it,” you turned to face him, abandoning your textbooks, “Tell me Half-Blood Prince, are there any other names you go by?”

“Well, there is one,” Harry pretended to be in deep thought. 

“Really?” you asked, with exaggerated excitement in your eyes. You tried to tell yourself that this was purely because of your entertainment. It was to tease him. To belittle him. He was your rival, after all. Your mind forcibly pushed out the ridiculous notion that you were only teasing him with these names now because you found it endearing how he blushed slightly, or how, in some rare occasions, he would retort back. That was definitely not it. 

“Yeah.” his breath hitched in his throat as he saw the look in your eyes. Has she always looked like that?

“Alright,” you rolled your eyes playfully, “what is it? The Four-Eyed Seeker? The Serpent Slayer?” You teased. 

“Actually,” he smirked a little, “some people like to call me ‘that one guy who was able to brew a draught of living death perfectly and beat [Y/N]’.” 

Your teasing composure dropped and you shot Harry an angry look. Without thinking twice, you raised your hand to flick Harry on the forehead.

“Ow!” he cried out, clutching his head more in surprise than in pain. You had made sure not to hurt him. 

“You can add that to your scar collection, Potter.” 

 At this, Harry also raised his hand to flick you softly on the forehead. It felt more like a tap on the head than a flick, but you flinched regardless. 

“Now, we can have matching ones…?” he joked weakly. 

It was as if time had stopped for a while, with both of you staring at each other. You, in shock, and Harry in something that could only be described as embarrassed nervousness. All you could think was, What an absolute dork! Is he really the guy that Voldemort is hell-bent on defeating? 

Meanwhile, Harry wanted to climb into a hole and die, because he could not believe he had just said that. 

You wanted to be mad at him. You wanted to be furious. But your anger died down instantly after one glance at his nervous and crooked smile. Frankly, his weak attempt at getting you back was too dorky to be mad at. But you would never admit that. 

You huffed in exaggerated annoyance and picked your textbook back up again. Only, you stayed sitting beside him on the rug. You both returned to reading as your arms kept brushing against one another’s comfortably, making you both tingly, causing you two to look at each other from time to time. Harry would shoot you a smile, and you would try your very hardest to scowl at him. 

Harry could see through it, though. 

Comfortable silence ensued, filled with the faint sound of turning pages and two hearts beating, simultaneously. 

_______________

[3:25 AM]

Your eyes drooped closed as you managed to snap them back open yet again. It had been a long night, for sure, and you and Harry were nowhere near being done. 

“Did we really have to do this tonight?” Harry muttered, a little irritated. He had Quidditch tomorrow. He needed his sleep. He rested his head in his hands, as he leaned over the table with his elbows on it. You were sitting beside him in a similar position as you massaged the temples of your head that were starting ache.

“Yes,” you muttered back, “how many times do I have to tell you? We would’ve lost if we hadn’t.”

“Of course,” he groaned with fatigue. 

“You know,” you turn to look at him, “this is a group project. Stop acting like I’m doing this for myself.”

“I never said that,” he replied, “Just-- It’s just that we’re nowhere close to being done.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly. He needed to be well-rested to properly argue with you.

“We just need to find the antidote to the crushed sea worms,” you tried to recall, “It’ll balance the potion out. And then, we can start brewing.”

“I’m taking a break, [Y/N], wake me up in five minutes?” Harry asked you as he slurred some of his words, being overcome with sleep. Without waiting for a response, he rested his head on the table and closed his eyes.

“Fine. Only five minutes!” 

_________________

[3:33 AM]

It had been a little more than five minutes. You knew this.

Yet, you didn’t have the heart to wake him up. He looked so peaceful, with his mouth slightly open and his glasses pressed up against the side of his face and the table.

You hesitantly extended your hand to gently take his glasses off. He stirred a little in his sleep and scratched his face softly, but much to your relief, didn’t wake up. You set his glasses down carefully on the table and tried to return back to your work when you heard a sound.

Snoring. Harry had already started to snore. 

They weren’t loud snores. They were soft, gentle. You couldn’t help but smile a little as you looked at the boy snoozing beside you. 

Perhaps you were too tired to think deeper, or maybe you just knew the answer already, but you didn’t even bother to ask yourself why you were acting this way. Why weren’t you annoyed by the snores? Why hadn’t you woken him up? For Merlin’s sake, what was with all that smiling? 

And most importantly, why were you enjoying working on this blasted project with your arch-nemesis Harry Potter?

________________

The first rays of sunshine poured through the small windows that were lined against the walls, illuminating everything that had previously been dim and hard to see. 

Under normal circumstances, this morning would’ve seemed peaceful. Almost ethereal, even. 

But as your eyes fluttered open and took in the scene that seemed to appear in front of them, the only thing that you felt was panic. 

Your head was resting on the table, with your nose only millimetres away from Harry’s. If you had moved only a fraction of a millimetre, your nose would’ve brushed against his. 

Before you had the chance to properly be flustered by this, reality set in. 

“Harry!” You practically screamed, “Wake up, Harry!” You sat up in your seat with a jolt and tried to shake Harry awake. 

Harry stirred slightly, and furrowed his brows, but didn’t wake up.

“I swear, Potter, if you don’t wake up, right now!” You shouted again. 

This seemed to work, for as soon as Harry’s eyes opened, his face also contorted into a panicked expression that was similar to yours. You two had overslept, and missed breakfast. Not only would this raise suspicion among your peers, but if you didn’t hurry, you would miss your first-period Potions class, consequently losing the competition. 

“Did you brew the potion?” Harry questioned hastily, as he attempted to smooth his messy morning hair and rush to pack up the scattered books and papers, “Why didn’t you wake me up!”

“Luckily for you, I did!” You replied just as hastily, looking around frantically for your bag and books, “Come on, hurry up!”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Harry snapped, as he looked for his robes and ties. He quickly picked up a tie off of the floor as you did the same.

Taking one last look around to make sure you hadn’t missed anything, and picking up the vial of the memory potion that you had prepared before falling asleep last night, you two were off, running as fast as your legs allowed to claim your victory. 

_________________

“Congratulations!” Slughorn exclaimed as he beamed at you, the class surrounding you and Harry as you two stood at the front of the class and the noise of applause filled your ears, “I expected nothing less from my two star students!” 

Your heart seemed to swell at your success, and you couldn’t stop yourself from beaming. You and Harry stood side by side, basking in glory, so be it if it was with incredibly deep eye bags, incredibly unruly hair, and a bad migraine from the lack of sleep. You exchanged a few small smiles with Harry that seemed to only make this moment better. 

After the prolonged appreciation of your success, you separated from Harry, and walked over to stand beside Millicent, as Harry walked to the other side of the group to stand with Ron and Hermione. As Slughorn started to demonstrate for your next assignment, Millicent smirked at you.

“Nice tie, [Y/L/N],” she sneered as she leaned over, “Looks like Potions wasn’t the only thing you two were doing all night.” 

Horrified, as you glanced down to your tie, the world seemed to stop. 

It was a Gryffindor tie. You had taken his, and him yours. Your face burned red as you quickly rushed to take the tie off. But many people had already noticed, as they all glanced about, smirking and muttering things about your and Potter’s eventful night.

On the other side of the group, Ron and Hermione looked positively flabbergasted at the sight of Harry’s green and silver tie.

“Mate… your--your tie,” Ron whispered to Harry quietly. 

“Wha--?” To say that Harry was petrified, and frozen in his spot when he caught a glimpse of your tie around his neck would be an understatement. His eyes shot towards you, but you did everything you had to do to avoid his eyes. 

“Well… um, how was it?” Ron questioned uncertainly, only adding to the awkwardness of this situation. 

“Ronald!” Hermione exclaimed, hitting Ron on the arm scoldingly. 

“What? I’m only asking!”

_________________

“Hey.” 

You turned around to see Harry, looking dashing in his suit, with an awkward smile on his stupidly handsome face.

“Hey,” you said back with a smile, and turned back to the scene in front of you.

Slughorn’s Christmas party. 

Of course, you had come. You couldn’t stand to disappoint Slughorn, especially when he had finally started to acknowledge you more in class.

Now, you were standing here in your extremely uncomfortable dress and heels, watching people dancing, and socializing, in which you were taking no part. The only thing that was on your mind was how much you wished that you hadn’t come tonight. 

“You…, uh--came alone?” Harry questioned as he took a step forward to stand beside you and watch both of your dates dancing with other partners. 

“No,” you rolled your eyes playfully, “I’m not that much of a loser.”

Harry grinned at this, feeling as if this playful remark had broken through the tension that ensued between you two ever since the tie incident. 

“Of course,” Harry nodded, smiling stupidly.

“I bet you came alone, though,” you teased, nudging his shoulder a little.

“Funnily enough, no,” Harry replied smugly. You tried to ignore how your heart dropped a little at this. 

“Oh?” you raised an eyebrow, “who’s the unlucky lady?”

“Luna. Although, she seems a bit preoccupied with Neville at the moment.”

You turned to look where he was looking to see Luna conversing excitedly with Neville. 

“Hm,” you hummed, “Zabini seems a little busy himself.” You shifted your gaze to Zabini, who was dancing with some Ravenclaw girl that you had never seen. 

Both of you were quiet for a moment, enjoying the company of the other and watching the terrible attempts at dancing on the dance floor. 

Out of nowhere, Harry broke the silence, “Want to get out of here?” 

Surprised, you turned to him, “What?”

“You don’t seem to be enjoying this any more than I am, “ Harry stated, rubbing his sweaty palms on his trousers, “let’s leave.”

“And go where?” This prospect didn’t sound half bad to you.

“Up to you.” 

“Um,” you crossed your arms, and thought for a moment, “Have you ever stargazed?” 

Harry looked dumbfounded. “No…?” 

“Great, let’s go.” And with that, you took his arm and led the way.

___________________

The Astronomy Tower was particularly chilly tonight, but you two seemed to have forgotten all about the temperature as soon as you caught sight of the beautiful view of the night sky, teeming with stars. 

“Y’know, I almost asked you to the party tonight,” Harry blurted out without thinking about it too much. Clearly, he had gotten far too comfortable, lying on his back beside you, looking up at the stars. He tried to keep his calm as he waited for a response from you.

“What stopped you?” you turned your head to face him, genuinely curious. Your heartbeat had started to beat faster, and your stomach felt weird and queasy.

“I--,” Harry wasn’t expecting a serious response, so he gulped a little before turning his face to face you, “Well, I didn’t want to make it weird, I guess. I wasn’t sure… of what you would’ve said.”

“So…” you smirked, “in other words, you were too much of a coward.” 

“What? Absolutely not! I just--. Well--”

“Well,” you smiled a little, “I would’ve said yes if you had, hypothetically, of course, gathered up your courage and asked me. I don’t seem to mind your company nearly as much as one would think.” 

“Yeah?” his heart seemed to skip a beat as he looked into your eyes, which sparkled from the reflections of the stars above. He was, quite literally, star-struck.

“Yeah,” you smiled, finally giving up on trying to hide your feelings, and allowing yourself to come to terms with them instead, “I wouldn’t even dream of giving up the opportunity to go out with the mighty Half-Blood Prince.” 

Harry groaned, as you erupted into a fit of giggles.

“I would much rather prefer if you called me by my other nickname,” Harry said slowly, his lips curling upwards.

“Which is?”

“The best potioneer,” he grinned. The roles had been reversed, and now it was time for you to roll your eyes and for Harry to chuckle.  

The rest of the night was filled with playful banter, with laughs and jokes, and with insults that weren’t very insulting, all the while gazing up at the stars. Though, Harry wasn’t too focused on the beautiful celestial bodies that seemed to occupy the night sky above, as the only beautiful thing he was interested in gazing at, at the moment, was you.

Tags: 

@bisexualprinxexx​ @parkeroffline​

[biggestxsimps]

Dance With Me

Harry Potter x Male Reader

A/N: Another Yule Ball fic, this time with Harry. I've had this idea for a while now but never got to making it, it wasn't exactly how I envisioned it but I really can't be bothered to rewrite it all. Y/N is a year older than Harry in this fic and has no specified house!

(About 1.6k Words)

It hadn’t been long since Harry had been picked to participate in the Triwizard Tournament, his shock quickly dissipating as he realised he had to find someone to take to the Yule Ball. Time was wearing thin and he still didn’t have anyone to go with.

The trio were currently feasting in The Great Hall, Ron stuffing his face as the other two spoke. “Well, who will you be taking then?” Hermione questions, “You can’t go alone.” He hung his head as he brushed Hermione off. “I know, I know.” He mimics a whine. “I can’t think of anyone else to ask though.” Hermione shakes her head disapprovingly. “You better find someone quick.”

Ron clears his throat after swallowing the giant bite he took. “Why don’t you take that guy you’ve been hanging around?” Harry questioningly looks at the red-head before Hermione chimed in. “Ah yes, the 5th year. Y/N, was it?” Harry shrugs as he feels his stomach flutter slightly. “Aren’t I supposed to go with someone, romantically?”

“Not necessarily. I mean, it’s either him or Ron, he has no partner either.” Ron mutters an offended ‘Hey!’ before Harry chuckles. “I guess I’ll ask him then.”

You and Harry only got close in the last year, as he was having trouble with his Herbology classes and you offered him assistance. The two of you would spend countless hours in the library discussing the plants and their specialties.

It didn’t take long for you both to hang out outside of studying, meeting before and after classes to talk. Conversations were spoken easily between you, it coming almost naturally. It’s why he had grown such a liking to you, you were such an easy person for him to get along with. Obviously so were Ron and Hermione, of course, but he swore it felt different with you.

He settled on asking you as soon as he saw you, hoping to catch you after your classes.

Timeskip

It was just about dusk when Harry found you walking through the halls, making your way to your dormitories. He sped-walked to try and catch up to you, calling your name once he was a few metres away. You turn to see him breathing heavily while greeting you. “Good Evening Y/N, I was wondering if I could ask you something.” You smile as you greet him back.

“Evening, Harry. What’s on your mind?” You watch as he straightens his robes. “As you know, I had planned on asking Cho out to the Yule Ball.” He shrugs as continues. “She’s already going with someone though, Cedric.” You send him an apologetic look. “Ah, what a shame. Sorry mate.” He waves his hand to brush it off.

“Don’t be, I’m not as upset as I thought I would be. I honestly feel a little relieved.” He watches as your face contorts in confusion, a wonky smile still present. “Well alright then, that was quick.” You give a short chuckle before you ask. “Who are you going with then?” Harry avoids your eyes as he stalls. “I hoped that’s where you’d come in.”

Your eyes widen. “You want to go to the Yule Ball with me?” Harry’s quick to start again. “I was talking to Ron and Hemione about it, I can’t go alone and I’d rather go with you than whoever they put me with.” He takes a short breath. “If, of course, you don’t already have a partner.” You shake your head. “No, no partner.” You let out a small laugh.

“So how is this gonna work? What exactly are we going as?” Harry feels his stomach flip as he responds. “Friends, they said nothing about it having to be romantic.” He laughs a little as he finishes. He notices a slight glint in your eyes, one that looked almost, disappointed. Yet a smile remained on your face, he must’ve been getting his hopes up.

“Of course.” You nod, letting out a quick chuckle. “Can’t wait, Harry.” You tease as you continue your walk. Harry smiles as he watches you walk away, his heart jumping out of his chest at your words, even though he knew you were joking. “Yeah, me too.” He tries to also get it out in a humorous manner, but fails. It coming out almost sincere as it falls upon deaf ears.

Timeskip

It was the night of the Ball, Harry was currently flattening out his robes in front of a full-length mirror. His eyes glanced over every part of his outfit, making sure it was perfect for you. He had placed a (House Colour) napkin in his front pocket as you had told him you would do with his.

He couldn’t help but wonder what you’d be wearing, how it’d look on you, how the fabric would wrap along your perfect body- what. Harry shakes his head as he reprimands himself. How could he have such thoughts? He places his cold hands against his heating face before walking out.

He had to be there quickly if he wanted to be there on time.

Harry had made his way to The Great Hall, now speaking with his two closest friends. It wasn’t until Hermione had stopped responding that he turned to see what she was looking at. His jaw fell at the sight of you. You had looked much more stunning than he could’ve ever imagined. He gazed over your attire, the red napkin in your pocket to the tight undershirt and the robes that fell to your knees. He had never seen you so dressed up before.

You had obviously noticed his staring, a slight smirk present on your face. “You’re drooling, Potter.” You point to the corner of your own mouth. Harry’s face erupts as he thinks of what to say to explain himself, but before he can respond, Mcgonagall rounds up the contestants and their partners. You hold out your arm towards the nervous boy, his sweating hand wrapping around it.

Harry knew he had nothing to worry about, everyone knew of your friendship with the raven and no one would have any suspicions, he hoped. He couldn’t help but recoil at the idea of walking out there. His eyes glued shut as he took a few breaths, he couldn’t give up this early. His eyes shoot open at the feeling of your other hand coming around and embracing his.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, it’ll be over just as soon as it starts.” Your smile calms his nerves, not as much as he wished, but enough to atleast get himself out there. As Mcgonagall signalled for them to walk out, he had lost all confidence, you nudged him forward and tried to walk in-sync with him.

His eyes fell on the passing students, watching as they whispered to each other while looking right at him, he was starting to feel a little sick. He hadn’t noticed you stopped until you pulled him into you, ready to start the dance. His hand shot to your shoulder as yours reached around his waist.

The music kicks and you start moving, you feel how stiff Harry is, trying to pull him as gracefully as you could. “Harry.” His eyes break from the surrounding students and land onto your own. “Just keep your eyes on me, it’s just you and me.” Harry feels his insides heat up at your words, his eyes not leaving yours once. “Great, you’re doing amazing, Harry.” He can practically feel the red reach his face at that, muttering a quiet ‘thank you’.

“I didn’t get the chance to tell you before, but you look truly gorgeous tonight.”

Harry feels as though he’s on cloud nine, the way your words seep into every crevice of his mind and how you so gently pull him across the dance floor has him absolutely smitten.

What was this feeling? He had never felt like this before, so happy and so desperate. His heart starts to skip beats, beating faster and more aggressive than it ever had before. He felt more exhilarated now than he had at any quidditch match.

The dance floor floods with the remaining students and faculty. You lean down, whispering against his ear. “See, now no ones paying attention to us.” Harry digs his head into your neck, desperately trying to hide the mass amount of blush spread amongst his face. You chuckle as you hold him tighter against you, his cheeks growing darker.

It’s only then does he realise, realise that what he’s been feeling wasn’t admiration or anything remotely platonic. He was in love, a feeling he had never felt this strong before. Merlin, how did it take him this long to figure it out. Harrys brought out of his thoughts as the music changes, a more upbeat tune being played now.

As the other students jump around, playfully dancing with their partners, Harry stops. You send him a puzzled look before he pulls your head down to level with his own. “I think I love you.” He watches as your smile grows wider and wider as you understand what he said. “It took a while, huh?” You tease as you place a quick kiss against his lips. “I love you too, Harry.”

He grins impossibly wide as he grabs onto you tighter than he did before. Quickly letting go, remembering where exactly the two of you were. You lightly laugh, before extending a hand out. “Now, how about we dance a little longer. His eyes stare into your own as he grabs onto your hand, you’re quick to pull him into the crowd.

Neither of you could’ve asked for the night to go any better.

A/N: Holy shit, this has been in my drafts for like 2 months, I hope it’s alright lmao. 

We have quite a few requests that we're writing right now, so please take this as a filler ig. I have trouble writing for Harry so any feedback is appreciated!

Masterlist

- Written by Owner 1

[to-fly-with-clipped-wings]

Chapter 1.2 - Train Rides and Talking Hats

Chapter 1.2 - Train Rides and Talking Hats

Pairing: Harry Potter x Chosen One! Reader

‘“Oi,” you spoke, feeling your jaw clench at the blond boy’s demeanour. “I’d watch what I was saying if I was you, especially considering the crap that’s spewing outta your sewage-system of a mouth.” Draco Malfoy turned his sharpened gaze toward you. “And I’d be more careful if I was you. You don’t want to make enemies with the wrong people.” “Same goes for you.”’ OR: in which you hitch a ride on the Hogwarts Express and buckle up for one hell of a ride. → Set in a universe where you are the chosen one, and Harry Potter is your best friend who tries to help you navigate the woes of being the lone hero of the wizarding world. A swap au where you are the chosen one, your parents are dead but the marauders + Lily are not. Eventual Harry x Reader, slowburn, friends to lovers. Series Masterlist

.｡*ﾟ🗲.*.｡  　ﾟ*..🗲｡*ﾟ

Perhaps, if you had any less self-respect, having had a mental breakdown on the King’s Cross platform would have been your morning on the 1st of September.

The train leaves at eleven, Hagrid had told you. The Caddels had dropped you off at the station at half past ten before leaving to drop Odette off at her new school, Smeltings, they’d said. All you were really aware of was the nifty cane that came with the uniform, supposedly used to thwack fellow peers. An excellent training for later life.

Regardless of peculiar apparels or uniforms – you had now acquired a steadily rising fear that you would never be able to wear your own, if you couldn’t uncover where exactly platform nine and three-quarters was located at the station. 

There they were, right in front of you, platforms nine and ten – right there – but nowhere could you spot any semblance or notion of anything three-quarters related. The large plastic number nine leered tauntingly at you, swinging back and forth vaguely with the passing breeze.

You had pestered the guard manning the station. He hadn’t even heard of Hogwarts, and since you had no flying clue where or even what the school was, you couldn’t describe it to him. The guard stared at you incredulously, as though you were deliberately trying to be stupid (you didn’t miss how he eyed Hedwig, your owl, who chirped irritably back at him). It took every ounce of your remaining willpower to not snap or lunge at him and cause a scene in the middle of the station, especially when a congregation of people had formed a circle around you to observe the exchange curiously.

Apparently, according to a variety of people at the station, there wasn’t even a train that left at eleven o’clock. And, though it was obvious, platform nine and three-quarters completely did not exist. Like, at all. And to top the cherry on your fabulous sundae of anxiety and chagrin, according to the large clock situated on the arrivals board, you had a little under fifteen minutes to be seated on the train. 

You wished Hagrid had left you with more information, but when the man had dropped you back at your house and allowed you the time to blink, he had vanished. Urgent magical business, you mused dryly. Almost like the kerfuffle of being stranded on a station with not the foggiest idea of where to go. 

Were you missing something? Did you need to cast a spell? What if you missed the train? Oh, you knew you should have read the books before coming to the station. You swore at that moment to leave no page in your spell-books unturned (in hindsight, you knew you would drop this vow three days in).

Just as you were preparing to brandish your wand at the stray ticket box next to platform nine, trying your very best to formulate a spell that would divulge the presence of platform nine and three-quarters. 

In a perfectly timed turn of events, a group of people passed behind you, and you managed to glean a glimpse of their conversation.

“ – packed with Muggles, of course –

You heard your neck crack from how fast you wheeled around. Muggles. You had never been happier to hear a single word. The speaker was a stout woman, to an audience of about five red-headed children. Four boys and a girl, who from the conversation that ensued, you discovered was too young to attend Hogwarts just yet. 

You trained your eyes on them like a hawk, shadowing ‘Percy’, the oldest boy, as he dashed toward the brick wall of platform nine, pushing his trolley along with him. Wincing, you closed your eyes so you wouldn’t see him and all of his school supplies crash onto the floor. 

Miraculously, however, when you peeled your eyelids back open, the boy was gone. As were the twin brothers, Fred and George (or did their mother say George and Fred?). 

There was only one more boy left; a tall – though that entire family seemed to be on stilts – lanky, deeply freckled one. If you wanted to know where the sons were disappearing to, this was your final shot.

“Hey!” you called out, dragging your trolley behind you as you approached the remaining members of the red-headed family. Then, realising how the abruptness of a random girl yelling at someone may be perceived as abrash, you decided to dial back your advances. “Hi, sorry. Do you happen to know how to –” “How to get on to the platform?” she said kindly. “No worries at all, dear. Is this your first time at Hogwarts? Ron’s new, too.” 

She pointed at her last son. He had dirt on his nose. You nodded your head slightly toward him in greeting, but your mind was still hyper focused on how the clock was dwindling closer and closer to eleven. “Pleasure,” you smiled, desperation beginning to blemish your voice, evident as it began to inch one or two octaves higher. “So, er, I’m hoping that you do know how to get to the train?” “That’s right,” she said. “All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don’t stop and don’t be scared you’ll crash into it, that’s very important. Go on, go now before Ron.”

You ruffled the collar of your shirt, which was looking far too neat and sophisticated (and therefore, not nearly as charming as you preferred it to be). “Thanks, Miss.” 

You sucked in a deep breath before gathering your courage and sprinted toward the very solid, opaque looking barrier of platform nine and three-quarters. 

You were running — running like a lunatic, might you add, when you realised you were almost there — and then, quite suddenly, you weren’t. 

Rather, you now found yourself underneath a sign that read Hogwarts Express, 11 o’clock.

Permeating through a brick wall was yet another box to check from your list of magical experiences. Twice, actually, if you counted the entrance to Diagon Alley. Odd was it indeed, but it was your odd now, and you lest would allow anyone try and rob you of it. 

You stood in awe, head on a swivel as you examined the new environment. A mammoth of a train, one whose size could only be attributed to the slight of one’s magical hand, with smoke seeping out of its charcoal chimneys, stood tall against the crowded stage of the station. 

You turned around to see if the red-headed family had made it through as well, and sure enough, there they were. The woman was still looking at you, and when you waved at her, her face split into a soft smile as she returned the gesture. You swept your dishevelled hair to the side – it had tousled itself into a heaping mess sometime during your episode on the other side of the train station. 

You only registered the consequence of this action when the red-headed woman’s eyes widened, and as an abrupt muteness circulated throughout the platform, capitulating the vocal cords of what seemed to be every single man, woman and/or child present there at that very moment. 

Families that were once bidding their children goodbye, lovingly caressing cheeks or smoothing down fly-away hairs, or families who were once loading trunks onto compartments, were now reacting in an identical fashion of the same scene that had transpired at the leaky pub; normal chatter was extinguished, and murmurs crept around the platform like an amateur thief in a treasure trove.

“The lightning scar!”

“Is that – oh, my sweet Merlin, it is!” “Oh – where –?!”

“Move! Let me get a glimpse!”

“Look, over there!”

“(Y/n) (L/n)!”

You stiffened under everyone’s combined gazes, the hasty switch of focus to you catching you off guard. But, as quickly as the alarm had rippled into your body, it had dispersed out. 

A smirk split your face, and you nodded toward the woman closest to you (who promptly went pink and near-fainted) as a way to acknowledge that you acknowledged their sudden interest in you. You heard someone chuckle at the sight, and a few more flurries of whispers were burgeoned from other by-standers.

During the time it took for you to jostle your trolley into an empty carriage near the back of the train, the number of people actively tracking your every move had died down, though only by a fraction. From the corners of your eyes, you could still see the odd third-year trying to estimate how many laces you had on your shoes, no doubt so he could pester his parents into buying the same pair. (You kept to yourself that they had previously belonged to Odette, however, as you seriously doubted anyone wanted to know that (Y/n) (L/n), hero of the wizarding world, still wore hand-me-downs.)

Unfortunately, it seemed that although you possessed the power to terminate the reign of the darkest and most powerful wizards in history, you had apparently not attained the muscles required to heave your trunk up the stairs onto the Hogwarts Express. You stumbled back, cursing as you reeled from the pain that rocketed through your foot after you dropped your trunk on your toes.

“Want a hand?” 

You looked up. It was one of the red-headed twins, from that family you had met before.

“Yes,” you said almost immediately. “Er, please.”

“Oy, Fred! C’mere and help!”

The three of you managed to successfully store your trunk into the corner of your compartment. Before you could thank the twins for their help, though, one of the twins pointed at the spot on your forehead where the thin lightning-shaped scar donned your skin. 

“You’re (Y/n) (L/n),” he announced. Just like Olivander, this had not been a question, but rather a statement.

“Yes,” you straightened your posture, raising your head a little higher. “That’s right. I am.”

The two boys gawked at you, and you subtly swept your sweaty hair to expose the scar even further. To your slightest dismay, however, the familiar voice of the red-headed mother drifted through the carriage before you were able to elaborate further on your tale of the lightning-shaped battle scar.

“Fred? George? Are you there?” Both the twins groaned at their mother’s summoning. Sparing one last glance at you, they ambled toward her call. “Coming, Mum.” You waved the twins goodbye. Sitting down by the window, you ducked your head so you could listen to the family, who were still on the platform, whilst being half-hidden at the same time. Their mother had scourged out a handkerchief and was furiously scrubbing at Ron’s nose to rid the smudge of dirt that laid upon it.

You watched with amusement as Ron tried to lurch away before being caught in his mother’s iron-fisted clutches once again.

“Mum – geroff!”

One of the twins snickered, leaning close to Ron. “Aaaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?” 

“Shut up!” You saw the oldest of the red-headed siblings saunter towards his family, already draped in his robes. A shiny red and gold badge was pinned onto his chest, with the letter P engraved onto it.

“Can’t stay long, Mother,” he said stiffly. “I’m up front, the Prefects have got two compartments to themselves –”

“Oh, are you a Prefect, Percy?” One of the twins gasped, bringing his hands to his face in disbelief. “You should have said something, we had no idea.” “Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it, once –”

“Or twice –”

“A minute –”

“All summer –”

You huffed a laugh at the back and forth going between the family. Percy the Prefect’s face was starting to sport a lovely bright, irritable shade of red. 

“How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?” queried one of the twins.

“Because he’s a Prefect,” their mother smoothed Percy’s already-perfectly-smoothened hair fondly. “All right, dear, well have a good term – send me an owl when you get there.” 

She sent him off with a kiss. 

You sunk back into your seat. For some reason, the jovial atmosphere you’d felt upon discovering the magical platform had now become strangely dampened. 

Call it a moment of weakness, sure – but in that moment, you wished that you could have a mother. A mother who would dote on you like that or who would comfort you. 

But, as soon as that looming train of thoughts had festered, you vanquished them from your mind – the other kids could keep their affectionate mothers who waved them goodbye as they left, the same, in fact, would go for their superficial, gentle-natured fathers; you had your fame and that topped any shred of whatever they may have had, whatever you were missing!

As though the red-head family were suddenly attuned with your train of thought, you heard the voice of the youngest child, the girl, pipe up. “Oh! (Y/n) (L/n) On the train? Please can I go see her, Mum, please, please, please…”

“You’ve already seen her, Ginny, and the poor girl isn’t something you goggle at in a zoo. Is she really, Fred? How do you know?” “Asked her. Saw the scar. It’s really there – like lightning.”

“Poor dear.” 

Your fingers traced the pattern of the scar, not particularly liking the feeling of pity emanating from the family.

“No wonder she was alone. I wondered. She was ever enthusiastic, though, when she asked how to get on to the platform. I’d have thought she’d be scared, by herself…”

“Never mind that, do you think she remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?”

The red-headed mother swelled. “I forbid you to ask her that, Fred! No, don’t you dare. As though she needs reminding of –... ”

The disarrayed ruckus of another family hurriedly barrelling onto the platform, and ushering their boy onto the train, stripped your focus from the ginger group. 

Observing the mop of black hair, you realised pleasantly that it was the boy you had met at the Quidditch store that day in Diagon Alley. Closely behind him, a stressed looking woman with copper-coloured hair, followed him briskly onto the train. Your lips twitched as you noticed that she possessed the same brilliant green eyes as her son. 

The father, a carbon copy of his son, followed seconds after, carrying a tremendously large trunk onto the train. There was one more man – perhaps one of the uncles the boy had mentioned – who remained on the platform. You guessed that he was allowing the family their final moments together. He didn’t really look alike to the mother or father of Quidditch Boy’s family, so you presumed that he was probably an uncle by choice, not blood. He had sandy brown hair with substantially sized scars running down the entirety of his face and neck. There was a large, shaggy black dog beside him too, and you swore that it had winked when it saw you looking at the group.

A shrill burst of steam raged outwards from the chimney of the train. You guessed that this was a warning to families that the train was about to depart right now. True to your word, just as Quidditch Boy’s mother and father practically leapt off the train carriage they’d left their son in, the train doors slammed shut, and the vehicle began dutifully chugging forward. 

Left behind now, was the platform of nine and three-quarters.

Leaning back in your seat, you exhaled roughly. This was it, the moment that marked the beginning of your journey into Hogwarts. You had no clue where you were going, but you just knew it would be good. A grand moment, you were sure, but what you were also sure of was that the next few hours on the train (or possibly days or months, who knew?) would result in you being bored out of your mind. Stuck in an empty carriage by yourself with no one to talk to – tragic – maybe it would do you some good if you popped down into one of the other carriages and try to find some other first-years.

Coincidentally, the door of the compartment was opened by none other than Quidditch Boy himself. His hair was askew, glasses lopsided and cheeks clearly flushed from the rush of trying to scramble onto the Hogwarts Express before it departed. He did not have his trunk with him, which meant that his father was able to stash it onto the train it in time.

“Hey, again,” he flashed you a bashful smile. “Would it be alright if I could sit here?”

“Sure. No problem.” 

You observed him as he took the seat opposite you. He was already wearing robes of sorts, not the Hogwarts ones, judging from the lack of school emblem, but the sorts that you hypothesised would be the wizarding equivalent to a t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

“Er,” he started, causing you to look over at him. “It’s nice to see you. Again.” “Yeah.” you agreed with him, offering a lopsided smile. “Great. To meet you.” 

“Yep.”

The compartment fell into a highly awkward silence, one that you were not at all familiar with. Back with the Caddels, or even at your previous school, you had no problem whatsoever making friends with strangers. In fact, conversation came easily to you – you weren’t the most popular girl in the grade for no reason, after all. So the stuffiness invading the atmosphere was most definitely unwelcome, and honestly, unnatural.

Thankfully the awkward cloud hanging above you and Quidditch Boy dissipated abruptly when the compartment door slid open again, revealing the tall, freckled, ginger boy. The other first-year you’d spoken to: Ron.

His eyes widened when he saw you sitting in front of him. “Uh – sorry, anyone else sitting here? Everywhere else is full.”

Quidditch Boy shook his head and Ron took the seat beside them, so they were both facing you. Ron’s gaze hadn’t settled and he kept on glancing toward you and then toward the window whenever he made eye contact with you. It was amusing, his discomfort, from how often he did it.

“Hey, Ron.” The red-headed twins popped into the compartment suddenly. “Listen, we’re going back down the middle of the train – Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there.”

“Right,” said the youngest sibling.

So we’re not going to question the spider. Seems good.

“(Y/n),” the other twin, the one who hadn’t been talking to Ron, turned to you. “And other Kid,” referring to Quidditch Boy, “did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. Anyways, see you later, then.” The three of you said bye in unison as the twins left.

As soon as they were gone, Ron blurted out, “Can we see the scar?” You blinked at him, and he went pink. Though, you complied either way (as you had no qualms to showing off the lightning-shaped bolt). Pulling your hair back, the scar on your forehead was revealed to Quidditch Boy and Ron.

“Wow,” breathed out Quidditch Boy. “It really does look like lightning.”

Ron was equally stunned. “So that’s where You-Know-Who – ?”

“Yes.” You grinned brightly at their awed expressions. They stared at you a couple seconds longer before Ron diverted his attention quickly back to the greenery flitting through the window.

“So, is your whole family magic then?” you asked Ron out of curiosity. 

You already knew that Quidditch Boy’s father was a pure-blood and his mother was a muggle-born, whatever that meant; you weren’t going to be the one to say you had no idea what those were.

“Quidditch Boy?” puzzled Quidditch Boy, eyebrows furrowing. 

Ah, had you said that outloud? Whoops.

You laughed, bringing a hand to your nape. “Sorry, I don’t know your name, so I’ve just, kinda, resorted to calling you Quidditch Boy in my mind.”

“Oh, well, I’m, uh, Harry. Harry Potter.” said the boy, smiling at you once more. 

You slouched further into your seat. “Nice to meet ya then, Harry Potter.”

Ron interjected into the conversation, for which you were grateful. The ginger boy seemed to hold the power of evaporating awkwardness with a snap of his freckled fingers. “Pure-blooded means that everyone on his father’s side is magic. I’m the same – everyone in my family is a wizard, well maybe except for my mum’s second cousin who’s an accountant, but we don’t really talk about him.”

“I get it,” you said, cupping your chin with your hand. “I’ve got no clue what I am. But I know that my father had no magic.”

“A muggle,” Ron nodded appreciatively. “Well, basically everyone knows that your mother was a pure-blood, though. That makes you a half-blood like him, since you’re a mix I guess.” He pointed at Harry. You were slightly startled that he knew more about your family and lineage than you did yourself. Maybe you should get used to people knowing more about you than you did yourself.

“A muggle-born’s a witch or wizard who was born from muggle parents,” continued Ron.

You tilted your head to the side. “Where does their magic come from, if they’ve got no magical blood or whatever?”

Ron looked partially affronted. “Who knows, – magic isn’t exactly something that comes in a nice little package that gets delivered to you when the time is right! All I know is that if you’ve got magic, then you’ve got it. That’s all there is to it, really.” He waved his hands about in the air for further emphasis. This was probably a topic Ron was passionate about, as you noticed his ears flushing red under the combined blank stares of you and Harry. You ponderedthat if Ron were to ever wear something salmon-coloured, it would definitely wash him out. You wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between his face and his left knee.

You tried to recover from the painful silence. “Thanks, that clears it up. You two must know loads of magic then.” 

“Not nearly enough as my mum wants me to,” said Harry.

“Hear, hear,” mumbled Ron.

“Huh. Guess that’s one good thing that comes out of being an orphan. No pushy mother for me!” You chuckled at the uncomfortable looks on the boys’ faces. 

“I heard you went to live with Muggles,” said Ron, scratching the back of his neck. “What’re they like?” “Alright,” you shrugged. “Not outstandingly nice or anything, but they do their job. Would be cooler to have wizarding brothers like you though.”

“Not if you’ve got five of them.” answered Ron gloomily. “I’m the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I’ve got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left – Bill was Head Boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy’s a Prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they’re really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it’s no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I’ve got Bill’s old robes and Charlie’s old wand. I wanted an owl, but they couldn't aff – I mean, they got Percy one instead for becoming a Prefect.”

Ron’s ears went pink again. Your brain, it seemed, was temporarily delayed and was not able to formulate a response to that.

“I’m sure you’ll do better than all your brothers combined,” said Harry. 

Ron smiled gratefully at him. 

As the train rolled onward and your surroundings grew greener, you, quite helpfully, took Hedwig’s cage and placed her on the centre of the table, announcing that the first one to get nipped whilst feeding her treats would be declared the ultimate ‘Loser Lord and/or Lordess.’ Hedwig loved you, so obviously she went ham whenever the two boys got close to her in order to secure your victory.

The three of you fell into an easy conversation after that, and you barely even realised how much time had passed until a smiling, old-looking woman popped her head into the compartment and said “anything off the trolley, dears?”

With that lovely gesture, you had leapt out of your seat and essentially pounced onto the food she was offering. Your pockets were lined with wizard money now, an infinite stash really, and so there was nothing stopping you from buying multiples of everything she had. As such, you, Harry and Ron had to literally struggle and drag back the food you’d hoarded, before dumping it on the table.

“Hungry, are you?” said Ron, raising his eyebrows at the pile of snacks that was nearly as tall as him.

“Starving,” you grinned back.

You, Harry and Ron tore into the pasties and cakes, the mountain rapidly diminishing by the second. There was one incident with a chocolate frog creeping into Hedwig’s cage before getting mauled by her talons. The card that supposedly came with the treat, had also been destroyed, so Harry had given his to you. One with a moving picture of Albus Dumbledore, who had waved politely at your stunned expression.

Once you’d moved onto Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavour Beans, you found a lot of enjoyment when Ron had the misfortune of coming across a bean that tasted like dirty socks. Though, your amusement at Ron’s plight had been adjourned with the appearance of a round-faced boy.

“Sorry,” he said, “but have you seen a toad at all?”

“No, sorry.”

You were taken aback when the boy promptly burst into tears. “I’ve lost him! He keeps getting away from me!” “He’ll turn up,” said Harry.

“Yes,” said the boy, turning away dejectedly. “Well, if you see him…”

“Don’t know why he’s so bothered,” remarked Ron once the boy had left. “If I’d brought a toad I’d lose it as quick as I could.”

You deadpanned at him. “You haven’t even got any pets to lose, Ron. I’m betting that if you ever got one, you’d have even worse attachment issues than Toad-Boy.” “Mind you,” said Harry, talking around his mouthful of Cauldron Cake. “That’s saying a lot.”

“What’ve you got then?” asked Ron, turning his head to glare at Harry. “You seem awfully high and mighty for someone who probably doesn’t even have anything at all.”

“I’ve got a dog,” defended Harry. “Snuffles.” You stifled a giggle. “Snuffles? No way you named your dog that!” “I didn’t pick the name!”

“A dog’s not as good as an owl anyways,” you teased.

“I’d beg to differ – my dog totally is,” Harry grumbled, crossing his arms. “Plus you don’t even need to have an owl – the school’s got its own aviary shock-full of ‘em that you can send letters with.”

“One day, I’m gonna get an owl.” Ron sighed dreamily. “Just for myself, I wouldn’t have to share with Fred or George or Percy or Ginny.”

“Who’s Ginny?”

Before Ron could express the identity of this ‘Ginny’, the compartment door was opened by a bushy-haired girl whose face was wrinkled up irritably. Toad-Boy also made a reappearance.

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one.” 

“We’ve already told him we haven’t seen it,” said Ron, but the girl wasn’t listening. Rather, she had been staring at you. 

“You’re (Y/n) (L/n).” she declared matter-of-factly. “I saw you at the station. I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books for background reading, and you’re in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.”

Ron gaped at her and Harry blinked a few times repeatedly.

“Be surprised if I wasn’t,” you said, winking cheekily. You also had no idea what she was talking about though.

She studied you appraisingly before asking Ron and Harry “and who are you?”

“Ron Weasley.”

“Harry Potter.”

“Pleasure. Well, I’m Hermione Granger. I was ever so pleased when I got my letter to Hogwarts, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve heard – I’ve learnt all of our set books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough.”

All three pairs of eyebrows furrowed in synchronisation. You, personally, had only caught about one-third of what she had been saying since she’d been basically rapping out her words. 

Herminkoni (was that what she said her name was?) began talking again. “Do either of you know what house you’ll be in? I’ve been asking around and I hope I’m in Gryffindor, it sounds the best by far, I hear Dumbledore himself was one, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad. Anyay, we’d better go and look for Neville’s toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we’ll be there soon.”

Herpes Motion thus turned around and left, taking Toad-Boy with her.

“Well,” you announced cheerfully. “She was nice.” “Sure,” muttered Ron, reaching for a Treacle Tart. 

“She was right about one thing though,” said Harry, grinning and brushing his hair out of his face. “Gryffindor, by far, is definitely the best house.”

“Who’s Gryffindor?” you squinted your eyes at him. Ron attempted an exasperated face-palm with his left hand (he was still holding the tart in his right). Harry laughed at this, before proceeding to explain the four houses to you.

Gryffindor had been the house Ron’s and Harry’s families had gotten into. The house of the brave, it was known for. Ravenclaw, the house for smart people (you had a feeling you would not be getting into that); Hufflepuff was the house for the loyal and well-meaning. And finally, there was Slytherin. Both Ron and Harry detested the green-and-silver clad house, for it had been the house to pump out the most dark witches and wizards.

“Ah,” you said. “So naturally, we should hate that house, since that was the one Voldemort was – ” “Woah,” interrupted Ron, looking impressed. “You just said his name.” “Why wouldn’t I? It’s just a name. Anyways, I’m guessing that you both want Gryffindor then?”

“Of course!” Ron puffed out his chest. 

“Hey,” Harry began, rubbing your chin. “Have you — ”

Unfortunately, whatever Harry had wanted to ask had been interrupted by the compartment door sliding open again. 

This time, it was a group of three – the ringleader being a sallow-faced, gauntly blonde boy. The other two were giant-sized, goliath looking boys who looked like his bodyguards. And, of course, they were all fixated on you. (But then again, why wouldn’t they be?)

“Is it true?” he said. “They’re saying all down the train that (Y/n) (L/N)’s in this compartment. So, it’s you, is it?”

“That’s right,” you smiled at him.

His lips twitched into a small smirk. He waved his hand carelessly at the two body-doubles next to him. “This is Crabbe and that’s Goyle. And my name’s Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”

Ron choked on his treacle tart, but you suspected that may have been him trying to disguise a sneer. Draco Malfoy narrowed his eyes on Ron.

“Think my name’s funny, do you?” he sneered, causing your hackles to raise immediately. “No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.” 

Ron’s face went pink again and he sunk into his seat. 

Draco Malfoy raised an eyebrow at Harry, but before he could say something about his family, you cut him off.

“Oi,” you spoke, feeling your jaw clench at the blond boy’s demeanour. “I’d watch what I was saying if I was you, especially considering the crap that’s spewing outta your sewage-system of a mouth.”

Draco Malfoy turned his sharpened gaze toward you. “And I’d be more careful if I was you. You don’t want to make enemies with the wrong people.”

“Same goes for you.” 

You stared down Draco Malfoy. Harry was glancing back and forth between the two of you, and he looked ready to stand up if this altercation escalated.

“You don’t get to come in here and poke fun at us,” you muttered slowly. “Especially, if you want to be on good terms with me.”

His cheeks tinged a faint pink. “Not like I would want to be friends with the likes of you.” He placed the emphasis on ‘you’ the same way you did for ‘me’.

You, Harry and Ron all stood up. 

“I think it’d be best if you left.” you gritted out, disliking the boy less and less by every twitch of his rat-like face.

Unfortunately for you, Malfoy’s rattish face had broken out into a sneer. “You’ll regret making enemies out of me, (L/n). I promise you that much.”

He furiously spun around and out of the carriage, but not before he could shoot you a final scathing look. Crabbe and Goyle chased after him, robes billowing out from behind them.

“What a buffoon,” you huffed angrily.

“Agreed,” said Harry, still glaring at the door.

“I’ve heard of his family before,” said Ron darkly. “They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn’t believe it. He says Malfoy’s father didn’t need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side.” “‘Specially if they thought it was the winning side,” added Harry.

The door opened before you could open your mouth. There was Hermit Yeti, yet again, standing at the entrance.

“What has been going on? Why did I just see three boys bolting out of this compartment?” She looked you up and down. “You haven’t been fighting, have you? You’ll be in trouble before we even get there!”

“They were the ones starting it – not us!” defended Ron, scowling at her.

“All right – I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors,” she said sniffly. “And you’ve got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know that?”

“Thank you,” you interjected, glaring at her on behalf of Ron. “Could you leave now?”

And finally, Herm-onion left.

If you had to guess, it had been only an hour after that when the train had pulled to a stop. You had slipped on your robes, ensuring that they still had your signature wind-swept appearance about them. Ron and Harry were also wearing their school robes now too. The three of you stuffed your pockets with the remaining sweets before you left the train.

Hopping out of the train and onto the station, you were delighted to be met with the familiar, wild face of Hagrid, the giant-man. 

“Firs’-years! Firs-years over here! All right there, (Y/n)?” He beamed at you from under his scraggly beard.

You waved enthusiastically at him. 

The first-years, it looked like, had their own means of reaching the school, which involved travelling in groups of four in a little boat across a lake. You, Harry, Ron and the bushy-haired girl (to your displeasure) took a boat close to the front.

Whilst you did not dislike the girl, you weren’t fond of her tendency to huff or be bossy, especially when she did it toward Ron (which you found she did often). Harry hadn’t done anything to get into her wrong books, and nor vice versa, so they were probably on the most amicable terms between your little trio.

The boats glided in unison across the great body of water, before coming to a stop at the front of the school’s castle. You could hardly hear Toad-Boy’s reunion with his toad (“Trevor”) amongst the excited buzzing in your ears.

The gaggle of first-years came to a stop at the entrance of Hogwarts, a ginormous wooden castle door. Hagrid raised his fist and rapped three times on it. 

The door opened immediately. There was a stern, grey-haired witch standing behind it. She was sifting through the crowd intensely, and her gaze did not linger on your scar like how most peoples’ did.

“The firs’-years, Professor McGonagall,” said Hagrid.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.” The door was opened further and you streamed into the Entrance Hall. The entire school was huge, you realised, and was very elaborately decorated – like something you would read in a book. Flaming torches illuminated the corridor. The first-years were pulled into a little room, next to a place where you could hear the rest of the school talking.

It was then you noticed that Ron appeared quite pale under his freckles and that Harry was fiddling with his fingers. In fact, every first-year seemed to be exhibiting some sort of nervous tick, apart from Malfoy, who was rolling his eyes for some reason. 

You drew your eyebrows together in confusion. Should you have been scared too? It wasn’t like they were going to force you to fight each other or anything right? At least, that’s what you hoped. Although, you definitely knew that if they made you fight, you’d win.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and speed free time in your house common room.

She continued giving a debrief of the houses, but as it was something you had already heard from Harry and Ron, it wasn’t anything new. You fidgeted restlessly, wanting to get onto the Sorting already.

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.” Her eyes lingered on your messy hair and ruffled collar, as one lapel stuck upwards. 

Once she left, you turned to Harry and Ron. “What do they do to get us into these houses? Is it like a test? Based on how you answer, that’s where you get in? Like, ‘what is the square root of sixteen?’”

“That’s probably only good for finding Ravenclaws and non-Ravenclaws though,” said Ron, taking you seriously. “My brothers said it was a test too, though. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking.”

Harry was looking more unsettled by the minute. 

“Hey,” you said, patting his shoulder, mistaking his expression as anxiousness. “Don’t be nervous. I’m sure Ron’s brothers are just messing with us.” “Me too,” confirmed Ron.

“But,” Harry’s green eyes met yours. “A test? I didn’t know we had to do a test. In front of the whole school? I can barely do two spells, how will they sort me with that? I— I didn’t think — I mean, my dad said— I thought it had something to do with a ha –”

“Listen,” you began, patting his shoulder. “That’s already two more spells than I know, and probably most of the first-years too. That Malfoy kid included.” 

You narrowed your eyes at the said blonde boy, before returning them to Harry. “Don’t worry, alright? Test or not, I’m sure we'll all do great. Probably.” 

Beside you, Ron nodded in agreement (although it looked like his skin was also beginning to reach a sickly pale green colour).

“You’re right,” said Harry, and you were pleased to see that he was a fraction less scared than he was a moment ago. Although he did still look a tad bit confused.

Anyways, moving onto more pressing matters. You didn’t bother with ‘smartening yourself up.’ You were already pretty smart enough, in your opinion. Having bested the darkest wizard of the age at a meagre one year of age didn’t come to just anyone, you know?

After a whole debacle with some ghosts or something flying in to greet you before the ceremony, Professor McGonagall entered the room once more. You all trudged in a single-file line into the Great Hall.

You gaped openly at the Great Hall, which looked even bigger than the Entrance. Four long tables were lain across the room, with golden plates and goblets sitting on each. The students were segregated by houses, indicated by the colour of their robes and ties. There were also several candles floating in the air, which was pretty sweet too. Oh, and the roof looked like the sky as well. 

Professor McGongagall placed a three-legged stool in front of school, and then she placed a rusty-looking hat on top of it. You deadpanned when it broke into song, and even more when everyone burst into applause once it finished.

“So, we’ve just got to try on the hat!” Ron whisper-yelled to you and Harry. “I’ll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll!” Harry gave him an unsure smile, and said “I tried telling you it was just a weird hat. You threw me off with the test talk.”

Professor McGonagall approached the stool, unravelling a long roll of parchment paper. “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she said. “Abbott, Hannah!”

Hannah stumbled from the crowd of first-years and toward the professor. She placed the hat on her head and after a moment of silence, the hat shouted out “HUFFLEPUFF!”

The table on the right, with the yellow-and-black clad students, the house of Hufflepuff, cheered and hollered as Hannah went to join them.

‘Bones, Susan’ went up next and she too went to Hufflepuff. ‘Boot, Terry’ went to Ravenclaw, and ‘Brown Lavender’ became the first new Gryffindor. The cheering from the red table was definitely the loudest, especially when right after ‘Bulstrode Millicent’ was sorted in Slytherin and all she got was only a polite and semi-subdued applause from her new house.

A few more people went, and then, so did ‘Granger, Hermione’ (so that was her name) who sat on the stool for a precariously long period of time before being sent to Gryffindor. Ron groaned. Toad-Boy (Longbottom, Neville!) got Gryffindor too, but somehow, he was on the stool for even longer than Hermione.

You were raising your hand to scratch at the itch in your ear when your name was called. 

As you stepped forward, the students in the Hall started to whisper loudly, just as they had done at the station.

“(L/n), did she say?” “The (Y/n) (L/n)?” Those comments did not help the rising ego blooming inside of you. You swaggered over the stool and sat down. Your fingers delicately gripped the brim of the hat. The fabric felt ragged and old underneath your fingertips. You brought the Sorting Hat down toward your –

“GRYFFINDOR!”

The hat had barely scraped the fly-away hairs on your head when it shrieked out. 

The Great Hall was silent for a few, stunned moments, taken aback by your instantaneous sorting. You stared back at them with wide eyes, darting downwards to look at Harry and Ron. They were wide-eyed too, before the dam of silence was broken, and they beamed gigantic smiles at you, alongside the entirety of the Gryffindor table erupting into cheers – louder cheers than for any of the people before you. 

You felt a warm glow in your chest. You looked around the table, and saw many friendly faces. Percy the Prefect had dived over the table (almost) to shake your hand vigorously and you could hear the Weasley twins jeering “we got (L/n)! We got (L/n)!” Even the resident Gryffindor ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, was congratulating you for your placement by patting your arm, which felt oddly like you were being doused in a bucket of cold water.

At the High Table, Hagrid was grinning and gave you the thumbs up of approval. Dumbledore, as you recognised him from the chocolate frog card, was up there too with a faint twinkle in his eye.

The only notable people left up, really, were Harry and Ron. 

Harry had been called first.

The Sorting Hat was sat upon his head for what seemed to be the better portion of an eternity. For the first time since your arrival, you felt a jolt of fear. What if you and your friends would be separated into different houses? You didn’t to be stuck in a full with only Neville and Hermione, everyday. What would happen if you woke up to find Neville’s slimy toad on your pillowcase or —

You felt a surge of joy and relief, as after a minute or two, the hat declared “GRYFFINDOR!” and the Great Hall erupted in cheers for Harry. You clapped your hands and smiled widely, looking for him among the sea of red and gold.

He took a seat beside you and you high-fived him.

“Nice to see you here, Potter, Harry,” you said, changing your voice to mimic McGonagall’s.

“Nice to see you too, the (Y/n) (L/n),” he snickered, mocking the way the students had reacted when they’d heard your name.

You grinned at him.

Ron joined you rather quickly, even though he was one of the last people to get sorted. You were delighted at this, as it meant you could still be with them for the rest of your Hogwarts years, if what Professor McGonagall had said about your house being akin to family, was true.

Dumbledore rose to his feet, “Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!” He sat down, and as he did, food magically appeared in front of you.

“Is he – a bit mad?” Harry asked you uncertainly.

“Probably,” you said, shrugging, reaching for the roast potatoes.

You scarfed down your food, listening to the conservation around you. You cheered when the dessert had come, causing the people around you to chuckle, quietly – except for Ron, who had gotten to the apple pie before you could.

You wrestled Ron for a slice of said pie, and were happily munching on it when you glanced back up to the High Table. Hagrid was drinking from his goblet, and Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore were in a deep discussion with each other. Another Professor, in a purple turban, was fiddling nervously with his cutlery, tapping his fork against the edge of the table. He was speaking with a professor with greasy black hair, a hooked nose and sallow skin.

The teacher, as though he could sense your presence, glanced straight past the Turban-Professor and bore his black eyes into yours – a sharp, hot pain seared within your scar, and you let out a hiss of pain.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked you, foreheading furrowing in concern.

“N-nothing.” The pain had left as quickly as it had come. How strange. You got the feeling that the hooked-nose teacher did not like you very much.

“Who's that teacher, the greasy-haired one?” you pointed at him, not discretely.

Harry stifled a laugh. “That’s Snape. No one likes him, they say he wants to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, but every year he gets stuck as the Potions one instead. My dad doesn’t like him at all – actually, my entire family doesn’t really either.”

“Why’s that?” you questioned.

“Not sure,” said Harry, but he scratched his cheek nervously. “They won’t tell me.”

Deciding not to press him further, you continued to watch Snape a little longer. He never looked at you again, though, after that.

Once the desserts had all faded away, Dumbledore had announced his final speech and conducted a very tragic school school orchestra. He wiped his eyes, from pain or sadness or you guessed maybe even both, when they had finished. “Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

Powering your legs through the sheer force of the food you’d guzzled down, you followed Percy up to the Gryffindor Tower. With horror, you realised that you’d have to climb an average of seven staircases everyday, simply just to get to your bed. 

Anyways, the entrance to the Gryffindor headquarters was through a painting of a Fat Lady and she flipped open when you told her the password, Caput Draconis. You scrambled through the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor common room. 

You lazily trudged up the stairs, and without even bothering to notice that your trunk had been transported up to your dorm room, you face-planted onto your bed and fell into a heavy sleep.

Perhaps you had eaten a bit too much, because that night, you had a very strange dream. 

You were staring into a mirror, desperately trying to tug off a purple turban from your head. When did you get a turban? How did you get a turban? The fabric of the turban grew tighter, making you feel a sharp pain in your skull as the turban squeezed your head like a vice. You wondered how you got into this mess in the first place.

Furiously pulling, pulling, at the turban finally caused it to unravel and expose your hair. With a start, as you glanced back to the mirror, you discerned that your face had, horrifyingly enough, taken on the face of Snape. His own black, empty eyes stared back at you. 

You scrambled back, leaping away from his cockroach-like eyes, only to find that, for some reason, there was a bottomless abyss behind you. You fell down, down, down into a pit. Closing your eyes as your head thrummed painfully, you braced yourself for the impact. 

A bright flash of green light, and a high, cruel laugh jerked you awake. 

Oddly enough, however, when you’d gone back to sleep, you hadn’t remembered the dream at all. You did question, however, the next morning why when you closed your eyes, all you saw was a luminous, green light in the shape of a lightning-bolt scar.

.｡*ﾟ🗲.*.｡  　ﾟ*..🗲｡*ﾟ

→ Author's Note: Hello my lovelies, welcome to ch 1.2 yippee!! Sorry that its super long but we’re pretty already halfway through the ch 1 portion of the series XD — I’m guessing now that it's gonna reach about 1.4 or 1.5 but I could also be widely incorrect :P Anyways that’s all so catch ya next time :))) thank you

Time for this chapters analysis ~ You will have probs noticed one of the most canon-divergent parts of this series so far is that instead of the same dilemma Harry faced when he was getting sorted (Slytherin vs Gryffindor), as soon as the hat touched the little hairs upon your head, you were sorted into Gryffindor. During this chapter, and a little of the last one (but mostly this one), I've kinda been subtly trying to hint that the Reader is really quite arrogant and brazen. Rather than Harry as the chosen one, where he longs for a quiet and normal life, Reader dives headfirst into her role. She shamelessly self-promotes her lightning-scar and doesn’t try to hide it – she knows she’s special and she feeds into that!!  She’s kinda like James Potter in that regard >.< and therefore I want her to kind of be epitome of a Gryffindor (courageous and arrogant) and maybe, maybe not, a parallel to Draco Malfoy (who also got sorted into Slytherin ASAP, and is ambitious and arrogant) hehe → that’s also why Reader and Malfoy get more aggressive even more quickly than Harry did in canon… Anyways!!! This is the briefest hint at what I have in store for this series, and we’ll see how Reader’s arrogance courageousness deviates Harry Potter from canon.  Tbh I’m planning to make the reader Percy Jackson-coded (with the sass and reckless bravery and loyalty and what not) and maybe just the slightest bit Gojo-coded hehe,  I know that it's not that clear rn lol but I’ll work my way into it hopefully… Anyways, thanks again! :D Series Masterlist

Taglist (thanks for asking!): @kaverichauhan

[malfoyheartsgranger]

Harry Potter Masterlist

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[pandora-cry]

English adaptation

Severus Snape: As a final assignment, you will have to make a potion with a function, chosen by you.

Student: Great! This is my time to make a potion to shrink penises.

Severus Snape: ....A What?....

Adaptación en Español

Severus Snape: Como tarea final, tendrás que hacer una poción con una función, elegida por ti.

Estudiante: ¡Genial! Este es mi momento de hacer una poción para encoger penes.

Severus Snape: ...¿Qué?...

[sachafaible]

Harry Potter: The Forgotten House

Hi all! I wrote a new Hogwarts AU fic on Faible, which is a new website I've been publishing a lot of HP fics on recently! It's an interactive story, so the ending can be completely tailored to the choices you make!

Harry Potter: The Forgotten House

In an unexpected twist, the students of Hogwarts discover a hidden, long-forgotten house, Serpentis, whose members once practiced a unique form of ancient magic.  As the new Hogwarts transfer student hoping to just blend into the background, you are thrust into the spotlight when you get placed in this mysterious house. With the help of your friends from other houses, you must uncover the secrets of Serpentis and its rising dark forces within the Wizarding World, and the reason it was erased from history.