#hermione granger/neville longbottom

[toorumlk]

silver and gold!

[fredgeorgegredfeorge]

Green-Eyed Monster | F.W.

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

Pairing: Fred Weasley x f!reader

Word count: 8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s he done?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[samtallchester]

Someone needs to bring back the smart 🤝 impulsive 🤝 clumsy trio.

[hpseeker99]

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

[btsbabe7]

Keep Me (In the Shadows)

Word Count: 5.4k

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x female reader

Warnings!: 18+, unprotected, impregnation

Synopsis: The walls of Hogwarts contain many secrets of their own, but on a late night, you and Draco Malfoy find yourselves uncovering one of your very own.

“Is it true,” Draco begins, voice ragged and rough around the edges, “that everything in this blasted castle resets at midnight?”

You watch the way the hem of his ebony robe propels on a soft wind over the dusty cobblestone tiles of the corridor. He remains a few strides ahead as he always does, walking quickly, yet aimlessly. He’d once told you it’d been his way of deflecting attention. If his eyes remained straight ahead, naturally he’d be unaware that you’re following his every move or anyone else for that matter.

So, you trail him inconspicuously, keeping your eyes glued to the empty corridor walls, the back of his robe, and his platinum hair with no real destination in your mind either. Your only goal is not getting caught alone with him this late in the night when students are forbidden to be outside of their dorms. If one were to stop you two, say a professor, you’d both lie and say you were returning to your respective areas. Draco’s speed walking would be believable enough.

“I’m sure there may be some logic behind that, but ultimately, I doubt it…”

“And you and Potter? Did that relationship reset at midnight? Better yet, what’s the logic behind that?”

Draco practically spits the words out in spite and you come to a sudden halt as they echo throughout the corridor. His words are far too large for a space so empty, for a space where perked, attentive ears may overhear or eavesdrop. In a corridor where lurking eyes may pry around corners in search of the next day’s gossip, you have to be careful. It’d happened before, not to you and Draco, but other students, and their secret escapades had been aired out to all who dared to listen over the next morning’s pumpkin juice. Yet, Draco cares more about this than the idea of being caught and the risk of detention. You can sense it in the way his shoulders and back stiffen with his walk.

Tossing your left arm over your right, you give the upper portion a soft squeeze while inhaling deeply through your nose. Dust tickles your nostrils and the faint smell of leftovers fill the air. You take in the toastiness of roasted chicken, the garlicky herbs that had been marinated into bite-sized potatoes, the sweet cinnamon sugar coating that had been dusted over pumpkin pasties and handcrafted pies, and the savory aroma of buttered rolls as they all congregate in a single whiff. With a sharp exhale through your mouth, you spew your thoughts.

“And who told you that? Your loyal gang of servants over this morning’s breakfast? Crabbe and Goyle? Zabini perhaps? Is that why you avoided me in Potions today?”

Draco stops mid-step and glances down at the obsidian leather crafting the wholecut Oxford shoes laced at his feet. His inhale is just as sharp as your exhale had been and he spins on the heel so quickly that the violent whip of his robe is enough to take your breath away, even several steps away. His eyes laser in on you and the space between your bodies suddenly feels smaller. Tighter. Suffocating.

His strides are few, long and confident, and you know he’ll land in front of you before you have a chance to finalize your true opening argument. With the click, clack, clicking of his expensive shoes bringing him closer, you whimper.

“It doesn’t matter who told me. I want to know if it’s true. Why they’re saying about you and Potter getting back together, dating again, and when you were planning to tell me. All these nights we’ve been sneaking about the castle together and you didn’t bother mentioning it,” he hisses the words in a rush and sneers at the thought of you with the oh so perfect chosen one while he’s left on the sidelines. “You didn’t tell me you were considering it, considering him again. You didn’t mention it on the observation deck of the Astronomy Tower, not in stacks of the Restricted Section, not in your dorm nor mine, and certainly not here, in this blasted corridor. Why not mention it a week ago when y—“

“Don’t finish that sentence, Draco,” you snarl.

His brows pinch at the challenge, but your eyes go wide in alert from the words you know were close to escaping his lips. Lewd and shameful they would have been had they reached the atmosphere. You glance up and down the seemingly void corridor with those same wild, worried eyes. You know how things can be twisted to snare even the brightest and most innocent of witches, but the words that clung to his tongue wouldn’t need to be twisted in order to ruin you both. Your quick search is fruitless and you let out a shaky sigh while rolling your shoulders back.

“I was going to tell you, Draco, that I was considering it… considering him, again.”

“When?” He demands. “Or were you going to wait until my tongue was halfway down your throat? Again.”

“Before, of course! Merlin… What kind of girl do you take me for, Draco?”

“You and I know exactly what kind of girl you are,” Draco retorts and studies you smugly.

His lips seal in a tight line and fire and ice blaze in the depths of his eyes before he spins once more and storms off in a blinding rage. You watch as he strides off prematurely, before hearing you out. He mutters something about how he knew things were too good to be true as he continues down the endless hall. You watch the way his hand clasps the nape of his neck under his long blonde hair and he keeps it there for a good while.

Once you gather your own thoughts, you hurry your strides in an attempt to mirror him, but you struggle to keep up with his head start and longer strides. The perks of being tall, you remind yourself. When you do catch up, he’s almost at the very end of the corridor, a dead end anyways, but you snatch him to a halt by the hood of his robe.

Draco falters and lets out a guttural groan when the sound of a ripping seam cuts through the silence air in response.

“You’ll pay for this, Y/ln!”

You feel prepared now. You’re ready to make your argument, to stand your ground, to explain yourself. You know that you have the right words sorted out and that with Draco cornered, he’ll have to listen.

Until he turns to face you.

His pink lips are pulled into a grimacing tight-lipped frown and an indented line appears down the center of his forehead where his thick brown brows are drawn together. His eyes shift over your features erratically before settling on yours, sharp like a double edged dagger ready to pierce. Two furious, impenetrable walls of frozen silver. Your body frosts over and you shrink where you stand. You struggle to meet his gaze and chew on the inside of your cheek as your mind goes blank.

You can’t think.

You can hardly breathe.

And when Draco opens his mouth, you wonder how you’re still alive when your heartbeat is racing so rapidly that your chest could easily explode.

“Tell me, Y/n,” he seethes.

A violent flame dances behind the walls of ice in his irises as his gaze flickers over the features of your face in frustration. Your lips are reddened and cracked from nibbling at them in nervousness and your nose appears swollen and puffed as if you’re attempting to hold back tears. Draco would usually swallow his pride seeing you in such a state, but he needs answers, so he settles on the wildness behind your dark eyes before continuing.

“Tell me,” he repeats. “When he fucks you, do you think of me?”

Your eyes dart towards his and your cheeks grow unbearably hot. You choke on the words as if you’re the one who dared spout them out. You’ve never experienced Draco this livid. You’d never heard his words become this vulgar, at least not with you, and that makes you all the more nervous. You’d convinced yourself that these nightly escapades meant nothing to him, that you were nothing more than a girl he could use or discard at his own will. He’s Draco Malfoy for heaven’s sake, and he could have any girl he pleased, that had come with the territory of having power and money at your disposal. You’d thought tonight would be the last night when you’d received his owl and that he’d be alright with that fact.

Clearly you’ve never been more wrong in your entire life.

You watch his tongue glide across the smooth plains of his natural pink lips and the fire blazing quietly in the torches overhead reflect a glistening orange on the thin coat of saliva left behind. You fixate on his features, from those shimmering lips up to the bridge of his nose. Your eyes roam up to the very roots of his platinum blonde hair before retracing your gaze and focusing on his eyes once more. They’ve softened a bit, not from the fire in the torches, but from the fire now kindling between you two.

He lets out a scoff as if he’s annoyed by you, as if you’ve been the pain in his arse all along. Before your brain can register the noise that escapes the base of his throat for a second time, he delves into you.

His lips are the first part of his body that comes into contact with yours. They’re warm against yours and so pillowy soft that you can’t bear pulling away. Instead, you bring your arms up to his collarbones and allow your index finger and thumb to mold into the curved base of his long neck. His artery pulse wildly underneath your grasp and your heart warms at the rhythmic expansion. You love the feeling, the palpitating of thick blood quickening through his body, underneath his skin, all livened by your touch.

Draco takes the final step to close your bodies together more comfortably and brings his arms around your waist to mold you into the perfect contours of his slender body.

“I can’t stop,” he mutters against your mouth and drops his lips into the crook of your neck. “I don’t want to stop, Y/n.”

He knows this will ruin you. It does every single time. With his lips against your neck and his words growing more desperate, lower and needier with each breath. You know exactly what he’s playing at. And yet, you allow your head to tilt back for more. More. More. And more. You’ll always need more of this, more of him. You rake a hand through the hairs lying against the nape of his neck. They’re course, yet silky in your gentle grasp and you close your eyes to the ceiling with a sweet smile as it drives him deeper into your flesh.

“Draco,” you purr.

He doesn’t bother responding with words. He only deepens the way he’s been working his lips against your flesh before allowing his burning tongue to trace a long column up the full length.

With this, you know exactly what is going to happen tonight and you take no desire in stopping it, not for Harry’s sake nor anyone else’s. In this very moment, it’s just you, Draco, and your desperate need for each other.

Need is a fickle thing and the need had begun long ago, long before your months of sneaking around to be together. It started when you were with Harry and Draco’s icy eyes would meet yours from across the room. Potions, the Great Hall, Herbology. Hell, even during their Quidditch practices. Somehow his eyes had always found yours in every room, and perhaps, some part buried deep inside of you liked it.

Every single glance had you feeling things Harry never made you feel during your three years of dating. It’s made you feel warm and dizzy as if you were going mad. Yet, nothing truly begun when you’d ended things with Harry. It’d been just before Christmas break. Harry planned to return home for its duration, so you had the comfort of knowing he’d be able to mend himself surrounded by those he loved, family and friends, while you stayed behind.

All your friends had called you mad when they discovered your frequent whereabouts—studying with Draco in the courtyards, his frequent smirks gifted across the dining tables during breakfast or dinner, his need to suddenly partner with you in Potions right after the break. You never truly expected them to understand the hungriness of your yearning for each other, that need for constant contact. Something in Draco’s presence had brought you back to a primal state of being, of craving and desire. Something feral melded in the deepest parts of your core and engraved itself in your very bones when his eyes met yours, but you couldn’t tell your friends that. So, instead of going behind Harry’s back, this is the alternative. This is freedom.

Draco takes a single step back and relishes the way you shiver when he releases a cool breath against the wet trail he’d left behind. He watches you slowly unravel from the ribbon of your high while shuffling out of his robe. Your eyes remain glassy and wide, glazed with lust as you work off his tie and snake it around your own neck before moving in to unbutton his shirt. The shiny black buttons are slick against your fingers as you round them out of each hole. One by one they expose a pinch more of his creamy white skin, so smooth and pale and familiar, and your mouth froths at the sight.

Draco manages to remove his belt from the buckle and unbutton his pressed trousers as you work at the buttons. By the time you’ve finished unhooking the last, his pants pool around his ankles with a soft thud. He backs you against an opening and hoists you up on the ledge of one of the many oversized lattice windows lining the corridor wall. Silver moonlight plays in the sharp grayish hues of his irises and you watch it as he focuses on you. He kneels to work your black stockings off and your stomach knots. He’s become quite the expert in doing this, managing to get the black fabric off and having your skirt and panties out of sight within seconds.

Draco smirks, a cocky smile that reflects his satisfaction after they plop onto the floor with a quiet thud. He drapes your legs over his forearms, hooking his arms underneath your knees, and stares into the void between your bodies. Your brows furrow as you study him. You swear you can sense worry creeping over his features. Perhaps the thought of you going behind Harry’s back has him rattled, or perhaps the idea of getting caught, even though you two never have before.

He relaxes his shoulders and lets out a sigh that would’ve gone unnoticed had you not been watching him. But the worry slips away just as quickly as it’d come, and in a few blinks of your eyes, the only evidence remaining is the gentle twinkle in his eyes when they finds yours again.

Murals of silvery grey fall upon you as the pressure between your thighs rings sharp. You need this just as much as he does. There are no games and the foreplay remains the small tiff you two just had as the aching pleasure of him slipping against you engulfs all your senses. You gasp in relief, eyes lowering at the feeling of his stiff sex gathering your sticky arousal. He teases your bottom lip with his tongue and grazes his chill breath over your warmth.

Draco watches you squirm uncomfortably on the stone ledge. He has to admit that this wasn’t the best place for sex and he hates the idea of your bare ass plastered on the dusty, frigid sandstone bricks, but he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t wait until one of you found a more respectful place to relieve yourselves. He couldn’t be bothered either when he’d led you to the stacks of the Restricted Section for the first time months ago during Christmas break, nor when he’d taken you in his dorm knowing his friend’s would be asleep in the same room. The list goes on, and yet, he needs you just the same now. He would’ve taken you in the Great Hall if he had to, would have risked everything to have lain you out like his own personal spread to devour whole. That’s how crazy you drive him, that’s how mad you make him feel, and he can’t wait another second. Not even when the idea of betraying Potter in such a way lurks heavily in the back of his mind, even after the whispers, the rumors of you two being back together. It’s the ultimate betrayal, but he cannot stop himself. He has no control over this.

Your mouth parts to let out a moan. As it does, Draco places his palm firmly over it, covering those beautiful lips and muting the sound before slithering between your decadent folds. His teeth sink into his bottom lip to rein in his own pleasure. You feel like a tight hug and he almost loses himself in the feeling. So warm, so comforting, so cruelly wet. Aside from the last fact, he’s sure this is what heaven feels like, what home should feel like, and he knows he can’t let this go. He can’t let this feeling of belonging be stripped away if he finally gets a say in it.

Your head rolls back with the first snap of his hips and you mewl softly. It’s only been two days and you’d magically forgotten how delicious and blissful the first taste of his cock is. You’d forgotten the pleasure in feeling his heat and hardness running deep along your walls and pulling your orgasm closer with each motion. He thrusts in again and your back arches. You watch your breaths fog against the exposed glass panes, weaving their own intricate patterns between ebony lattice, and it takes you back to the first time Draco had claimed your innocence.

On Christmas morning, after breakfast, you’d sent your owl from your dorm window with a letter that contained only two lines:

Restricted Section tonight.

Don’t be late, Malfoy.

Since that magical night in the stacks, you’ve never loved anything more. Every week for a month, you’d sought him out. It’d been pathetic, but you were unable to liberate yourself from the yearning of taking him again. Your need wouldn’t subside, even after you’d taken him. He’d turned you into this feral, insane being, and you found yourself chasing that body to body connection and the slow build up of your pleasure around his length endlessly.

Draco’s pants fill your ears with the sweetest melody as he plows into you, leaving no more room for nostalgia. With each violent rut of his hips, neither of you have the time to recover from the ecstasy prickling in your veins. The heat pooling in your core keeps your mind centered and your gaze focused on him.

“Draco...”

You watch him through heavy, lidded eyes, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip in a teasing grin as you watch his hips burst forward. The rhythmic sound of your skin colliding and his low howling heightens your senses. Suddenly, you’re keenly aware of the little ache unraveling like a ribbon in the pit of your belly, but also the bareness of his chest begging to be touched.

You glide your fingertips up the plain of his stomach, taking in the darkened hairs forming around the edges of his navel. You follow the faint trail up to his lanky chest, taking in the slight bit of muscle around his pecks before continuing up and over his shoulders. You curl yourself around him and trace circles over the bone when he falters closer. Beads of sweat form over the span on his forehead and you watch the way it collects like glistening raindrops against his scalp before trickling down streaks of his swaying platinum hair. You fight every instinct in order to spare him of the sensation of your fingers running throughout his hair and massaging into his scalp. He’d shutter in pleasure if you were to so, and right now, he doesn’t deserve the satisfaction.

Draco’s fingernails burrow into the flesh of your hips and you howl at the feeling, abandoning all prior thoughts. He thrusts forward. Harder. Deeper… Once. Twice. A third time for good measure. Then, again and again while a series of moans pour from your parted mouth.

“Tell me you won’t miss how good I make you feel?” He murmurs. “Isn’t that why you’re here tonight? Because poor little Potter cannot be bothered with pleasing his own woman? He should be treating you like the chosen one. Doesn’t he know you are?”

You bite into your lip again, but this time it’s to keep your mouth shut. You know there’s no use in telling him the truth, that Harry hadn’t as much as lain a finger on you in this way. Not once in all the three years you’d been together. Though, you know he’s wanted to. Draco is the only one that’s ever had you this way, completely defiled you, talked you down, brought you to your lowest and highest all at once.

Your eyes roll again as Draco steadies out his rhythm to catch his breath.

Surely the portraits will spread word in the morning of how they heard students moaning and followed the sound after seeing you and Draco disappear down an unlined corridor moments before. You’ll have to talk to Harry and admit it. That’s one thing you’re certain of. If you don’t, they’ll call you scandalous and Draco would get it worse. Dumbledore may even have to expel you faster than Professor Snape can chastise Malfoy for his lewd, unacceptable actions, in which his father, Lucius, will truly not want to hear about.

“Shit…” he hisses. His eyes snap shut and his lips tremor with his ragged pants. His nose crinkles and the movement of his hips grow erratic once again. With his grip tightening on your flesh, he lets out a low groan. “I’ve almost forgotten how good you feel. I might blow my load inside of you… teach you a lesson.”

“You will not,” you protest, straight faced and using all your strength to not react to the pleasure radiating throughout your body. “Draco, we can’t.”

“Or what? You’ll curse me?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Draco sneers and leans down until his face is hovering above yours. He allows your ankles to rest against his shoulders, knees parallel to the ceiling. He watches the way you fight every instinct of pleasure, how you keep your eyes on his instead of allowing them to sink back, how you hold his triceps when you want nothing more than to have your hands grasping your aching breasts or to have them wrapped tightly around the base of his throat. He chuckles at the fact that you wish to moan, but your duty to privacy holds steady, keeps you quiet and whimpering instead of letting loose. And he watches in amusement as you slowly unravel with every swift and sharp stroke of his hips. As he does, he begins to realize just how much he actually cares about you.

“Tell him you’re mine,” Draco demands. “Tell me and tonight you’ll tell him so I can spend all day showing you how well I treat my personal possessions.”

“Oh yeah?” You tease. “Is that right, Draco?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

You let out a sharp giggle and rope him in closer by the back of his neck, so close that you can take in every breath exhaling from his lungs and pull them into your own. You watch the way the iciness in his eyes melts away and glaze over with something more warm and comforting. And your core ripples at the possibility of something more than lust looming between the both of you.

“Don’t tell me you’re this close already,” he complains, truly embarrassed for you by the look of annoyance in his eyes.

“Mmm… I think I am,” you whimper and grasp the lapels of his crinkled button up to yank him a breath closer. “Fill me up, Draco…”

He scoffs.

He is truly embarrassed for you, but you wish he could see himself panting, slicked with sweat, eyes soft, and looking so sexy whilst buried between your thighs. He’s the portrait of pathetic and you know you should make him beg.

“Beg,” you croak and yank him down until his lips are just above yours.

You throat stings, sore and scratchy from attempting to leave it shut as Draco plowed through your slick folds one thrust at a time.

“You’re insane,” he chuckles and glimpses down at your reddened lips.

“Only for you,” you whisper and swallow a moan as you caress the sharpness of his cheeks. “Make me yours, Draco.”

His lips tug into a sharp smile and he presses his lips against yours hard and hungrily. He’s tired of your games. Perhaps he realized that much sooner than tonight and the thought of losing you had become too unbearable for him.

“Fuck,” he huffs into the sticky air between the both of you before reclaiming your lips.

“Love your cock being buried inside of me, Draco.”

You finally moan against him. After all, you aren’t evil enough to keep edging yourself when you’re both this close. He pulls his mouth away, panting heavily as he plants his palms on either side of you and stiffens.

“Are you finished?”

You nod, knowing exactly what he means. It only confirms that he’s serious now, serious in showing you exactly how he takes care of what’s his.

He glances down at his hardened length, only the tip remains hidden inside of your depths, and the rest gleams in your sticky, sweet arousal. He wants to taste you, but more than anything, he wants to bury his load deep inside of you. He wants it so deep that it doesn’t dare to trickle out. He doesn’t care about the consequences this close to graduation; he only cares about you filled to the brim with a piece of him, no matter what it is.

He thrusts inside and watches the way you swallow him greedily. Then, repeats the action again and again in a rapid rock of his hips. He senses your falling apart—legs trembling against his body, eyes softening to a roll, your arousal warming to slick wetness, scorching hot with each plunge. He takes pride in his string of thrusts, delivering them in a steady rhythm. Though, he wishes to tear you apart, your freed moans keep him from doing so. They guide him and keep him steady like music in his ears.

He grasps your chin and pulls your lazy gaze back to him.

“Keep your eyes right here, darling,” he demands sternly. “I want to see the way they roll when you release.”

With clenched teeth, you attempt to snatch your chin back, but he keeps his grip firm and your maneuver hardly wavers as he picks up speed with a groan and chuckle.

“You thought I’d let you dominate me?” He teases, his chuckle cutting through your moans. “I almost had you convinced. But don’t forget, my love, I’m always in control. No one tells me what to do.”

You whimper as he presses a thumb into your mouth to pacify you before ripping through your depths. His thrusts grow quicker with each second and you have no time to recoup from the pleasure prickling through your veins and pulsating in every corner of your being like liquid fire. Just as your eyes begin to roll, Draco snatches your jaw, showing just how much in control he truly is.

“I wish Potter could see how well you take me,” he pants cockily. “Just imagine if he knew the way I fit inside of you. So perfectly, if I do say so myself. You should see the way your cunt grips around my cock. You should see how wet you are for me. I dare you.”

You hum against his thumb and the vibration ricochets through you in a deep wave as you dare to glimpse between your thighs. You catch sight of his cock, a pulsing red with a vein so thick that it looks as though it hurts, and your arousal coating the surface in a glistening sweetness. Draco watches with you and your head spins.

“It’s been two days since I’ve felt you tightening around me. I can’t wait to feel it again.”

You keep your lips clasped tightly around his thumb. Your mind can hardly think of a quip, let alone find any words to overpower him. You don’t want to. You focus on the way his cock feels slipping in and out of your depths at different lengths, growing unsteady with each sway of his hips. You focus on his silver eyes staring into yours and his mocking grin as you finally come to terms with the fact that you are his. You’ve always been his. He’s just known it much longer than you have.

A bead of sweat drips from the tip of his swapping bangs and plops against your bare stomach. Draco chuckles and slicks his damp hair back with one hand while using his thumb on the other to massage the moisture into your skin. He presses in with a bit more pressure in attempt to feel himself plunging in and out of you. He keeps his thumb pressed firmly against you and steadies himself until he feels the motion underneath it. In and out. In and out, bulging at the center of your tightening core.

“Perhaps one day you’ll write about how well you take me,” he purrs. “And we’ll fill our library with books on our lovemaking.”

“I’m sure such books already exist,” you gasp, recalling all the steamy muggle romances you’d read over the summer.

“Then you’ll read one to me one of these days. Share your findings?”

“I’d rather show you,” you whisper.

He smiles, almost faltering before regaining his composure and finding your hips again.

“Draco?”

“Mhm?”

“Tell me I’m your favorite,” you mutter and buck up against him.

He stops suddenly and his nails dig deep into your pillowy flesh. You feel his cock twitch deep inside of you and you smirk when his eyes land on yours again.

“Being sneaky are we?” He muses and rams into you.

His palm finds your mouth again just before a bloodcurdling moan slips out.

He does it again with a teasing smile.

Then again.

And again.

And again until you’re whimpering and trembling around him. You reach for his forearm, but he denies it and presses into you harder.

Your eyes roll and you grasp the ledge underneath yourself, but it’s too hard. You go for his wrist, the same one allowing his hand to keep you almost silenced. You shiver around him and your thighs go limp against his thrusts. It’s not long after that his pants turn into a sharp hiss and a new heat overwhelms you.

Draco falters on top of you and stares straight into your eyes as he fills you up to the brim with his warm seed. You search his eyes for any form of deceit, but you find none. There never has been, not when it came to you and him.

His hand slowly retreats and you let out a loud inhale, taking in the dusty air of the corridor before slinging your arms around his neck and rushing your lips against his. He tastes of tart apples, salty sweat, and the sticky strawberry taste of your lipgloss. You never knew you needed to taste such a combination, but if it came from him, you’d take it. You’d take it all.

“Y/n,” he mumbles.

“Yes, Draco?”

His eyes focus on yours as if the stars he’d once seen dancing around your face are slowly subsiding and the cloudiness of lust and desire fading.

“You truly are my favorite,” he breathes and runs a hand through your curls before peppering your lips with kisses. “And I plan to keep it that way.”

And somewhere deep in your gut, you have a feeling this won’t be the last time you hear those words, especially since you’d forgotten to confirm cc that it had only been a rumor going around the school, mere whispers. Someone had lied about you dating Harry again, but you don’t mind when the result of it brought Draco crawling back to you.

Please be sure to check out my other latest fanfics:

⚡︎ Lost Love (m.) - Lucien Vanserra x Rhysand x reader

⚡︎ Rain Does Not Fall on One Roof Alone (m.) - Ominis Gaunt x Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Perfect Storm (m.) - Ominis Gaunt x reader

⚡︎ Untitled (m.) - Sebastian Sallow x Ominis Gaunt x reader

⚡︎ Coffee (Love You a Latte) - Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Golden - Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ For You Always (m.) - Severus Snape x reader

~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡

December 2024

[lihiominaa]

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone 2001, dir. Chris Columbus

[maki-nsi]

Rumors 'round Hogwarts obviously based on Norman Rockwell's "Chain of Gossip", for those not caught up, basically, Harry told Hermione who told Ron who told Dean who told Lavender who told Parvati who told Padma who told Cho who told Luna who told Ginny who told Neville who told Daphne who told Blaise who told Pansy who told Draco who told Harry

[dufferpuffer]

Longbottoms boggart wasn't Snape.

I mean you'd think this would be obvious enough - but people who hate Snape bring it up as their sort of trump card. "He was so bad he was a 13yr olds biggest fear!" No. He wasn't. Boggarts don't quite work like that. Boggarts are not themselves your worst fear - they make you FEEL your worst fear. Hermione isn't actually scared of McGonagall. (I'm sure alot of first years are scared of her though I mean she is strict and stern and a little scary at first.) Did she have some irrational fear of suddenly failing all her classes? Yeah, maybe a little bit - but it is BECAUSE she is scared of not being good enough. From the first book we see her struggling to fit in with her peers. She is muggleborn, she learned she was a witch so suddenly that she poured herself into being the most perfect witch she could.

Professor McGonagall, a stern and strict witch she respects, telling her she isn't good enough despite all of her best efforts makes her FEEL her worst fear. It has nothing to do with Minerva personally - honestly it could probably be replaced with Dumbledore or someone... its just she has far more interaction with Minerva.

SO - Longbottom and Snape: How do I know that Snape isn't his absolute worst fear? Because he still attends Potions every fucking week!!! Do you think RON could attend Charms if it was run by a spider?!? He can pass Snape in the hall, he can sit in the same room as Snape, he can even be teased and bullied by Snape. His parents were tortured to insanity by Death Eaters. Severus Snape is NOT his worst fear, that's stupid. Snape just makes him FEEL his worst fear - like McGonagall makes Hermione feel hers. SO what is Neville worst fear? I think the clue comes with him quickly saying that he also wouldn't want the Boggart to turn into his grandma. Inadequacy. Neville has never been good enough. He has low self worth. The tiniest bits of praise overwhelm him. He never wins any house points and losing some devastates him. He got his magic late, his family kept trying to tease it out of him, thought he was maybe a squib. He has a proud legacy to uphold and he is terrified he cannot. He is the worst potions student Snape has ever had.

Snape makes Neville feel inadequate. His grandmother makes him feel inadequate. But mix them together... and suddenly these two very scary people that seem to have such control over his life... look a little ridiculous.

DO you think Lupin is LITERALLY scared of the moon...? Or does the moon make him feel powerless and dangerous and inhumane? DO you think Harry is LITERALLY scared of Dementors...? Or is he scared of how powerless he is against the horrible way they make him feel - the trauma they bring up from the deep recesses of his mind?

Snape was not so horrific, so awful, so scary, so mean - that he as a man became Nevile's worst fear. He, like his grandma, makes him feel inadequate.

[beerose12]

harry potter as memes part 1 feat.

1. ron having the emotional range of a teaspoon

2. neville being accident prone

3. hermione being done with all this fucking bullshit

[crackishincorrecthp]

Hermione: What did you get Harry for his birthday? Luna: I got him a kitten, he's so sad since Hedwig was killed...I thought he could use some new animal company Ginny: Really? Me too! Like, I didn't want to risk an owl, so kitten it was! Neville: I also got him a cat... George: Looks like we had the same idea... Hermione: Ron, please tell me you didn't get Harry a cat as well! Ron: ...I got him a kitten Hermione: Merlin! What is Harry going to do with 6 cats?! Ron: You got him a cat too? Hermione: Yeah, I thought the same as Luna and Ginny, that Harry could use some animal company again but I didn't want to risk an owl...

[pottersource]

Harry Potter, the boy who lived... come to die.

[maybebitterxox]

Harry Potter Characters As Texposts Part 2

[blackbirdi]

Harry Potter Incorrect Quotes #2

~~~~~~~~~~

Harry: So how’d you guys manage to crash the car last night?

Hermione: Ron wasn’t paying attention to the road, and there was a deer. So I shouted, “RON, DEER!”

Ron:

Hermione: Go on. Tell him what you said.

Ron: … “Yes, honey?”

*Cue Harry dying*

———————————

George: *Whispering so they don’t get caught out of bed by Filch* What time is it?

Fred: *Screams loudly*

Snape: WHO THE FUCK IS SCREAMING AT TWO IN THE MORNING!?

Fred: There you go.

———————————

Hermione: *Showing Mr. Weasley how to use muggle technology* There you go. Your laptop is all set up.

Mr. Weasley: Will it get heavier if I put more files in it?

Hermione: What?

Mr. Weasley: Like, if I download files will it weigh more?

Hermione:

———————————

*The girls decorating the Christmas tree*

Hermione: Does anyone know where the angel is?

Ginny: *Pointing at Luna* Found it!

———————————

Mrs. Weasley: When I said bring me something back from Hogwarts I meant something you bought at Hogsmeade.

The Twins: *Struggling to contain a Bludger* Well you didn’t specify that!

———————————

Neville Longbottom: So how’d you know Harry was the one?

Ginny: *Dreamily* He looked at me the way every woman wants to be looked at…

Neville: Awww.

Ginny: With fear in his eyes.

Neville:

Hermione: Awwwww.

———————————

Ron: Did it hurt when you fell from the vending machine? Cause you’re a whole snack.

Hermione: Are you silence? Because you make me speechless.

Ginny: Who do you think is going to make this dirty first?

Harry: Turn this dirty? Neither of them, Gin, they’re too cute for one another.

Ron: Are you my pinky toe? Cause I’m gonna bang you against every piece of furniture I own.

Hermione:

Harry:

Ginny:

Harry: I take back my previous statement.

———————————

*After watching Frosty the Snowman*

Ron: What did Frosty the Snowman do other than come to life, do a little dance, and die?

Harry: Isn’t that what we all do, really?

———————————

Ron: You played me like a fiddle!

Fred: Oh no, Ronniekins. Fiddles are actually very difficult to play.

George: We played you like the cheap kazoo you are.

———————————

Ron: *Walking into the living room to complain* Mum! There’s no more snacks in the kitchen!

Ginny: *From the kitchen* But I’m literally right here!

Ron: *Frustrated groan*

———————————

The Twins: We can assure you, our place of business is extremely safe.

Ron: *Looking up at the ceiling* The smoke detector is a white bowl with a red M&M taped to it…

[hpseeker99]

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

[lunarlivs]

harry and friends ◡̈

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hey how are you? I was actually curious how the characters' main writing was like. I remember that Harry makes his "i" like Lily's and Ron has a bad writing but I don't remember well for characters like dumbledore, Snape, Malfoy...

Hi, I'm doing pretty good, swamped with uni, but I don't have much to complain about.

Luckily for you, I actually have some notes regarding canon character handwriting. These notes are from supplementary books (Fantastic Beasts & Tales of Bettle the Bard) which actually have the character's handwriting in them. Along with some quotes I found about character handwriting.

(Also I'm not using signatures from the movies)

Harry:

'She had made her “g”s the same way he did' (DH) - Harry's handwriting shares some letters with his mother's handwriting. Notably, the "g".

Ron:

'Ron’s untidy scrawl' (CoS)

 'said Ron, scribbling away, making his writing as large as possible' (CoS)

'Harry stared at the word “Pig,” then looked up at the tiny owl now zooming around the light fixture on the ceiling. He had never seen anything that looked less like a pig. Maybe he couldn’t read Ron’s writing' (GoF)

Hermione:

'Harry could make out Hermione’s neat writing' (CoS)

'And Hermione’s done four feet seven inches and her writing’s tiny' (CoS)

Dumbledore:

'Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before' (PS)

'The narrow handwriting was vaguely familiar' (OotP)

'thin, slanting writing on the parchment' (HBP)

'were five words written in the thin, slanting handwriting that Harry recognized as Dumbledore’s' (DH)

McGonagall:

From the actual HP books we get McGonagall's handwriting as well, due to her signature being on Harry's Hogwarts letter:

Snape:

Thanks to the HBP book, we also have some notes about Snape's handwriting:

'and yet his writing was minuscule and cramped' (OotP)

'cramped handwriting' (HBP)

 'Although Harry had offered to share his book with both of them, Ron had more difficulty deciphering the handwriting than Harry did' (HBP) - I take this to mean young Snape had tiny handwriting and that might be slightly similar to Harry's own (hence his ease at reading it).

'I think the handwriting looks more like a girl’s than a boy’s' (HBP) - assuming the handwriting is small and has some flourishes. (I kina imagine Snape's and Lily's handwriting is similar, which is why I think Harry's handwriting is a little similar to the Prince's)

Hagrid:

We also have some notes regarding Hagrid's writing which is nearly eligible.

'even a scribble that looked as though it was from the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Hagrid.' (CoS)

'He recognized the untidy scrawl on the brown paper at once: this was from Hagrid' (PoA)

Tom Riddle's:

'Riddle’s reply came quickly, his writing becoming untidier, as though he was hurrying to tell all he knew' (CoS) - meaning his handwriting is quite tidy usually.

(On an unrelated note since I've been searching for mentions of writing in the books I encountered this line in PS:

Harry cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote

Considering we all talk about Harry's gold cauldron, I think we need to talk about Harry's color-changing ink. More cute Harry additions to Fantastic Beasts since I found them adorable:

The kid's adorable, I don't understand how the Dursleys could keep hating him, my boy.)

Edit: I got my hands on the 2017 edition of Quidditch Through the Ages, so I have more handwriting to add for anyone curious:

We've got in this photo: Ron (with comments), Neville, Susan (with comments), Hermione, Padma, Earnie, Melicent, Hermione again, and Draco.

(I'm not sure who commented on Ron and Susan's names as I don't recognize the handwriting. These are two different commenters I belive, due to how they write their 'S' and 'i'. The 'stinks' next to Ron's name might be Bulstrode as the 's' and 't' are a little similar)