#hogwarts themed asks

[tiarpopdind]

Painted this guy 🙄🙄🙄

[greenerteacups]

Re: your recent response about Draco wearing blue - fashion is not something I tend to pick up on (or understand very well generally), so I’m always curious to hear more about it! Do you have any other fashion thoughts you want to elaborate on? You’ve talked a bit about Draco and Hermione’s fashion, what about Harry or Ron?

Aw, yeah! I'll preface this by saying that the following is a combination of canon and headcanon; some of this is evidenced in the text of the fic, but some of it probably isn't, it's just something that's in my head when describing them.

Harry's pretty small in Lionheart, as a consequence of chronic malnutrition in childhood mixed with a genetic predisposition to it (James is canonically a short king, cf. "Hairy Little Christmas.") That means a lot of his muggle clothes don't fit well, being hand-me-downs from Dudley; in contrast, his school robes, which we know he got tailored at Malkin's, seem to fit normally (i.e., Harry fits better in the magical world, it's his home, it suits him). In general, Harry's fashion is "adequate, but not great," which makes sense; he never had the chance to choose his own clothes growing up, and then he went to boarding school with a uniform, so when would he develop a sense of style? Honestly, it's a relief for him to have one fewer decisions to make.

Like Ron, Harry's uniform isn't super meticulous, but he seems to make an effort. He does his tie and keeps his shirt clean, etc. (which makes sense; Harry cares about belonging here). When we see Harry out of uniform, he's usually wearing baggy t-shirts and jeans, which are the least nice clothes you could give to someone while still expecting them to last; they're also clothes that fit loose and hang long on his body (very late-80's + early 90's).

Ron, on the other hand, doesn't have any qualms about belonging in the magical world; he was born to it. This manifests as a laziness with his robes. He doesn't bother with his tie as much, if at all, and when he does it's not the right knot (Draco points it out in Book 3); since he's the brother of not one but two Head Boys, we have to assume that's deliberate, or that at some extent his lack of attention is a deliberate manifestation of something. Ron is youngest boy, he has self-esteem issues, and the way this manifests is by Ron never asking for anything and then getting sour when nothing goes his way. He doesn't try, so he can't feel bad when he fails. Besides which, when Ron does try to dress nice, it backfires; it's either an uncomfortable costume, like in "Operation Prewett," or it's a horrible hand-me-down, e.g. the Yule Ball outfit. Contrast him with the other Weasley boys, many of whom — especially the three oldest — have their own cultivated aesthetics, because they all know who they are. Ron is figuring that out, and it manifests in stylistically messy ways.

[missnight0wl]

I decided to give Brother's Theme a listen and damn I forgot how beautiful how melancholic it sounds. It doesn't have the right to be this good!

Maybe if the writers put that on their earphones and close their eyes they'd be reminded of the vibes the siblings were supposed to have.

Oh, I absolutely agree! “Brother Theme” is so amazing! I mean, to be fair, I have to say that HPHM music is pretty good in general, but this one piece is simply another level.

Sadly, I’m afraid your suggestion might not work either way. It seems that JC turned it into a generic emotional music theme. I don’t mind it being used for Rowan, but I didn’t really like it being used in Chiara’s TLSQ, and I absolutely hated it being used for Peregrine. And sadly, I’m not talking only about meeting Perry – the theme was also played when this piece of shit fell off the bridge.

*sigh*

It really is a shame that it lost its significance. But as you pointed out, the relationship between the siblings lost its original character, too. Hell, now that I think about it, it actually became quite insignificant as well. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not really gonna complain about it – the less Fugly Slut is in the game, the better. But at the same time, it just feels sad that Jacob simply… doesn’t feel important anymore, in my opinion. Do you know he wasn’t even mentioned in the chapter about MC’s graduation? I suppose it’s because he’s at the hospital and whatnot, but damn, they could’ve at least given us a short scene where he sends us a letter with congratulations or something. Jacob Ellis would have to be dead to not be there for Helena on a day like this.

But oh well, I guess.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

Hi ivy! For the holiday enemies to lovers prompts can you do 1,3,4 with Theo nott? Ofc you don’t have to use all of them if you don’t want to! Those 3 really stood out to me and I couldn’t pick just one 😅 thank you lovely!

Assuming this is your request @astonishment, thank you so much requesting! Hope you like it <33

theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader who gets him for the secret santa

THE SPIRALLING

There were exactly 47 hours and 12 minutes until the Hogwarts Secret Santa reveal, and you were on the verge of losing your entire mind.

Why? Because you had drawn Theodore freaking Nott as your Secret Santa recipient. Of all the people at Hogwarts, it had to be him: the cold, brooding, insufferable Slytherin who looked at you like you were the human embodiment of an unwashed sock.

“I’m cursed,” you moaned dramatically, sprawled across the couch in the Hufflepuff common room. “There’s no other explanation.”

From her chair by the fireplace, your friend Sarah barely looked up from her book. “What are you on about now?”

“My life is over,” you said, tossing an arm across your eyes for good measure. “I’ve been assigned him. The human icicle. The walking void of emotion.”

Sarah blinked. “You got Theodore Nott?”

You bolted upright, grabbing her arm like she’d just offered to save you from a sinking ship. “What do I do, Sarah?! What do you get someone who hates everything? A rock? A lump of coal?”

“Well…” Sarah started, but you were already off the couch and pacing.

“He’s going to hate anything I give him,” you wailed, hands flailing. “But I can’t not give him something because then I’ll look like a terrible person, and I’m not a terrible person, Sarah! I’m a Hufflepuff! We are legally obligated to be nice!”

“Legally?” Sarah said dryly, but you ignored her.

“And I can’t ask him what he likes because then he’ll know it’s me, and then he’ll think I’m stalking him, and—oh my gosh, what if he reports me to Snape?!”

“You’re spiralling,” Sarah said, but you were already halfway out the door.

STEP ONE: INTERROGATING THE ENEMY'S FRIENDS

Step one in your (brilliant, totally foolproof) plan was to interrogate Theodore’s friends. Casually. Subtly. Like a normal person.

Spoiler: You were not a normal person.

“Enzo!” you said brightly, sliding into the seat next to Lorenzo Berkshire at breakfast. “How’s it going? How’s life? How are your socks? Warm? Good. So, what does Theodore Nott like?”

Lorenzo froze mid-bite, his fork hovering in the air. “What?”

“You know, hobbies, interests, favorite snacks, deepest fears,” you said, waving a hand. “The usual.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Why do you want to know?”

“Oh, no reason!” You laughed—a little too loudly. “Just curious.”

“Is this for Secret Santa?” he asked, smirking. “Wait. Did you get Theo? Merlin’s beard, you got Theo!”

“NO!” you practically yelled, nearly knocking over your pumpkin juice. “Of course not! That would be absurd. Ha! Ha ha ha!”

Lorenzo leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“Am not!” you huffed. “I’m just… conducting a holiday-themed survey. For… science.”

“For science?” he repeated, amused. “Right. Well, Sunshine, if you’re so curious about Theo, why don’t you just ask him?”

“BECAUSE!” You threw your hands in the air. “He’s scary, Enzo! He’ll probably hex me or—I don’t know—stare at me with those stupid intense eyes of his.”

“His stupid intense eyes?” Enzo grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “Are you sure you don’t like him?”

“WHAT?!” You nearly fell out of your chair. “I don’t like him! I despise him! He’s rude and annoying and—ugh—he breathes too smugly!”

“Sure,” Enzo said, clearly not convinced. “Whatever you say, Sunshine.”

STEP TWO: QUESTIONING THE ENEMY

You were nothing if not persistent. So, against your better judgment, you cornered Theodore himself in the library.

“What are you doing for the holidays?” you asked, plopping into the chair across from him.

Theodore didn’t even look up from his book. “Why do you ask and/or care?”

“I don’t care,” you said quickly. “I was just… wondering.”

He finally glanced at you, one dark eyebrow raised. “Why?”

“Because I’m nice,” you said, gesturing vaguely. “And curious. And it’s the holidays! Aren’t we supposed to, like, bond or something?”

“I’d rather not,” he said, turning a page.

You scowled. “Wow. You really know how to spread holiday cheer, don’t you?”

“Was there a point to this?” he asked, looking at you like you were a particularly annoying fly buzzing around his head.

“Yes,” you said, folding your arms. “The point is… I was just wondering if you’re going home for Christmas.”

“No,” he said shortly. “Now, are we done here?”

Your scowl deepened. “Why aren’t you going home?”

“Why do you care?” he shot back.

“I don’t!” you said, your voice a little too high-pitched. “I just… thought you might be lonely or something.”

Theodore’s lips twitched into the faintest smirk. “Worried about me, Sunshine?”

“No!” you said, cheeks burning. “Don’t flatter yourself, Nott. I was just—ugh, forget it!”

You stood up so quickly you almost knocked over your chair, muttering under your breath as you stomped away. Behind you, Theodore chuckled softly.

STEP THREE: GIVING THE GIFT (AND HOPEFULLY NOT GETTING HEXED)

By some miracle (or maybe sheer stubbornness), you managed to find the perfect gift: a leather-bound journal, simple yet elegant, with Theodore’s initials embossed on the cover.

When the time came for the Secret Santa exchange, you watched nervously as he unwrapped it, your palms clammy and your heart pounding.

He stared at the journal for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he looked up, his piercing green eyes locking onto yours.

“Did you…?” he started, but you cut him off.

“It’s not a big deal!” you said quickly, waving your hands. “I just—I mean, you don’t have to like it or anything. It’s fine if you hate it. I just thought—”

“Mio sole,” he interrupted, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “It’s perfect.”

You froze, your brain short-circuiting. “It… it is?”

He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, completely dumbfounded. Then, because you didn’t know what else to do, you blurted, “You’re welcome! Merry Christmas! Okay, bye!”

You practically sprinted out of the room, your face burning, but you couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face.

Maybe Theodore Nott wasn’t so bad after all.

BONUS

Later, when you were sitting by the fire, Lorenzo plopped down beside you with a smug grin.

“So,” he said, nudging you. “You gave Theo his gift. How’d it go?”

“Fine,” you said, playing with the hem of your sweater. “He liked it.”

“‘Liked it,’” Lorenzo repeated. “That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“Yes,” you said firmly. “That’s all.”

Lorenzo smirked. “You’re blushing, Sunshine.”

“I am not!”

Across the room, Theodore caught your eye, and for the briefest moment, he smiled—a real, genuine smile. Your heart did a little flip, and you quickly looked away.

Lorenzo laughed. “Yeah. Totally not blushing.”

“Shut up, Enzo!”

Lorenzo's laughter trailed off as you smacked his arm, though he didn’t stop smirking like the absolute menace he was. You crossed your arms and sank deeper into your seat, huffing.

“Say, Enzo,” you began, your voice carefully nonchalant, “you know Italian, right?”

He raised a curious eyebrow but shrugged. “Yeah, of course.”

You turned to face him, fiddling nervously with the hem of your sleeve. “What does… uh… mio sole mean?”

The smirk that spread across his face was so smug, you immediately regretted asking. “Ohhh,” he drawled, leaning closer with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Who called you that?”

“No one!” you said, your voice jumping an octave. “I just heard it somewhere, that’s all. Totally random. Not a big deal!”

Enzo’s eyebrows wiggled like he was performing some sort of comedy act. “Not a big deal, huh? Sure. Well, it means ‘my sun.’ You know, like…” He trailed off dramatically before pointing straight at you. “Sunshine. My sunshine.”

Your face burned so hot, you were pretty sure you were moments away from combusting. “Oh,” you squeaked, your voice barely audible.

Enzo leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “So, Sunshine, care to explain who’s been whispering sweet nothings in Italian to you?”

“No one!” you said again, practically shouting this time. “I told you, I just heard it somewhere! That’s all! Ugh, you’re so annoying, Enzo!”

“I’m annoying?” he said with mock offense. “You’re the one coming to me with your mysterious Italian phrases. Next thing I know, you’ll be asking me how to confess your undying love to Theo in flawless Tuscan dialect.”

Your gasp was so loud, half the common room turned to look at you. “Excuse me?!”

Enzo’s smirk widened. “You’re excused.”

You sputtered incoherently, your brain a tangled mess of embarrassment and indignation. “I—he—there is nothing—you are impossible, Lorenzo Berkshire!”

Enzo laughed so hard, he nearly fell out of his chair. Meanwhile, you crossed your arms and buried your face in your hands, silently vowing to never speak to him again.

Across the room, Theodore caught your eye once more, his lips quirking up in a small, knowing smile. Your stomach flipped again, and you quickly turned away, cheeks blazing.

Enzo, noticing the exchange, gasped dramatically. “It is Theo, isn’t it?! Sunshine, you sly little—”

“ENOUGH!” You groaned, grabbing a cushion and whacking him with it. Enzo, of course, only laughed harder.

REQUESTED FROM : this post RELATED TO : this post

[cruel-seduction]

Mattheo Riddle Headcanon

Warning: This piece contains themes of possessiveness, obsessive behavior, and dark romance undertones. Mattheo's love might be overwhelming, intense, and not suited for everyone’s taste. Reader discretion is advised.

(+ Requests are open so if you wanna request something, go ahead)

Mattheo Riddle

౨ৎ 6’2 | He’s not as tall as Theo, but you wouldn’t dare mention that unless you want to end up against a wall (and not in the fun way—well, not just the fun way). He’s tall enough to tower over you, and honestly, that’s all he needs.

౨ৎ Built to fight | Mattheo doesn’t have the lean elegance of Theo or Draco. He’s solid—broad shoulders, strong arms, and that delicious combination of athletic and dangerous. (He’s fought more boys in Hogwarts hallways than you’ve taken exams, and every single one of them regretted it.)

౨ৎ Hands? MADE FOR SIN. Big, veiny, and calloused from Quidditch and street fights. He’s got a grip that can pin you down or pull you close—whatever mood he’s in. (He could choke you mid-argument, and you’d thank him afterward. RESPECTFULLY.)

౨ৎ He doesn’t work out for fun—he works out to survive. Fistfights, dodging hexes, getting thrown into detention every week; it’s all part of the “Mattheo Maintenance Plan.” (He calls it cardio; we call it hot as hell.)

౨ৎ Face? Pure trouble. Mattheo’s got that sharp jawline and cheekbones that could cut glass. Dark, stormy eyes that smolder like embers, framed by lashes so long they should be illegal. He’s always got a cut or bruise somewhere on his face—his version of an accessory. (You just want to kiss it better, don’t lie.)

౨ৎ Hair? CHAOTIC. Dark and curly, it looks like he ran his hands through it during a fight and then just left it that way. It’s thick and soft, and you know it’d feel like heaven wrapped around your fingers. (Or gripping your thighs while he devour —anyway.)

౨ৎ That smirk. It’s a weapon. Crooked, cocky, and knowing, it has the power to make you forget how to breathe. He knows exactly what he’s doing when he throws it your way. (And you hate yourself for falling for it every single time. But not enough to stop looking.)

౨ৎ He doesn’t just walk; he prowls. There’s a predatory grace to the way Mattheo moves, like he’s always two seconds away from either a fight or dragging you into a dark corner. (You wouldn’t mind the later one, do you?)

౨ৎ Voice? A slow burn. Low, raspy, and smooth, like he’s smoked one too many cigarettes but still has you hanging on every word. When he whispers, it’s game over. (He calls you “trouble” in that tone, and suddenly you’re ready to commit a crime.)

౨ৎ Anger Management Issues | Mattheo doesn’t yell—he doesn’t have to. His rage is cold, quiet, and calculated, which somehow makes it ten times scarier. He’ll get even, and he’ll do it in a way that leaves scars. (Emotionally and physically.)

౨ৎ Fight first, ask questions never. Mattheo’s solution to any problem is his fists. Someone looked at him wrong? Fight. Someone disrespected Theo or Draco? Fight. Someone dared to breathe near you? FIGHT. (And he’ll win, obviously. Look at him.)

౨ৎ Slytherin Prince energy. He doesn’t care for titles, but people gravitate to him anyway. He’s magnetic, exuding a dangerous charisma that makes you want to follow him—even if it means walking straight into hell.

౨ৎ Soft spots? Hidden under lock and key. Mattheo doesn’t open up easily, but when he does, it’s devastating. A rare, crooked smile or a quiet laugh, and suddenly your whole world tilts. (We LOVE a secretly soft bad boy.)

Would you let Mattheo Riddle ruin your life? Absolutely. Would you thank him afterward? Also yes. (No notes. Just him.)

Mattheo Riddle | Personality

౨ৎ He’s loud but in that dangerously calm way when it matters most. Mattheo knows exactly how to push buttons, whether it’s with a smirk, a biting remark, or just the way he looks at you like he knows all your secrets. (Spoiler: he probably does.)

౨ৎ The type of person who thrives in chaos. He’s not a troublemaker by default; he just is trouble. People either avoid him completely or flock to him like moths to a flame—usually the latter. (WE LOVE A MAN WHO IS THE RED FLAG AND THE WHOLE DAMN CARNIVAL!)

౨ৎ Reputation? Notorious. Everyone knows Mattheo Riddle. Maybe it’s because he’s always at the center of some scandal, or maybe it’s just because you can’t not notice him.

౨ৎ Manipulative, but make it hot. He doesn’t need to raise his voice or even argue much. Mattheo knows how to twist words and situations until you’re the one apologizing to him. (And then he has the audacity to smirk about it.)

౨ৎ Fights aren’t something he picks—they’re something that find him. But once he’s in one? All bets are off. "You wanted this. Don’t start crying now."

౨ৎ Unlike Theo’s quiet menace, Mattheo fights loud. He taunts his opponent with sharp quips and cruel laughter, the kind of guy who’ll land a punch and then casually fix his hair like it was nothing.

౨ৎ Obsessive tendencies galore. When Mattheo decides something—or someone—is his, it’s game over. He doesn’t just like you; he fixates. (Good luck trying to shake him off because you’re not going anywhere.)

౨ৎ Affection? Worship disguised as possessiveness. He’s the type to follow you around like a shadow, making sure everyone knows you’re off-limits. His jealousy? Immediate and obvious. "If you wanted to make me mad, congratulations, princess. Now, what are you going to do about it?"

౨ৎ He’s a natural flirt, but it’s not rehearsed. Everything about Mattheo is raw, instinctive, and dripping with confidence. (The man could make tying his shoes look like foreplay. It’s unfair.)

౨ৎ Smirks more than he smiles, and every single one is lethal. It’s the kind of smirk that makes you rethink your life choices. (Like why you aren’t currently pinned against a wall by him.)

౨ৎ His anger is a wildfire—hot, destructive, and consuming. But what’s scarier is the moments right before he snaps, when his voice lowers and his eyes darken. That’s when you really start praying.

౨ৎ Chaotic protector energy. Mattheo doesn’t have many people he’d go to the ends of the earth for, but if you’re one of them? He’ll burn the world down to keep you safe. (And he’d make it look sexy while doing it.)

He’s not just passionate; he’s intense. Whether it’s fights, emotions, or sex, Mattheo doesn’t do anything halfway. He’s all-in, all the time. (Exhausting? Yes. Worth it? Also yes.)

Would you let Mattheo Riddle ruin your day, your life, and your sanity? Absolutely. Would you regret it? Never.

౨ৎ Layers of chaos. On the surface, Mattheo looks like he’s got everything under control—swagger, confidence, and a devil-may-care attitude. But under all that? Oh, he’s a mess. Overthinks everything, but you’d never know it because he masks it with a cocky grin and impulsive decisions. (SOMEONE GIVE THIS MAN A THERAPIST, BUT ALSO LET HIM KEEP THE TOXIC EDGE. WE LOVE IT.)

౨ৎ Moody as hell, but in the hot way. You’ll know when he’s upset because he gets too quiet, that jawline clenching just so. He won’t lash out; instead, he’ll brood in the corner until someone’s brave enough to poke the bear. "Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be? *Smirk.* " (Sir, that smirk says you’re about to burn the whole castle down.)

౨ৎ Impulsive to the core. Plans? Never heard of them. Mattheo acts on instinct—whether it’s throwing a punch or dragging you into an empty corridor because he needs you right now. It’s a miracle he hasn’t landed himself in Azkaban.

౨ৎ Organized chaos. His notes are scribbled, his robes are half-untucked, and yet he’s always prepared. Somehow. He doesn’t stress about the details; he just wings it. (And annoyingly, it works out every time.)

౨ৎ Languages? Oh, he knows a few. His Italian is rough but so hot, especially when he’s muttering something under his breath that you can’t quite catch. And Merlin help you when he growls something in Parseltongue. (THE THINGS WE’D LET HIM DO IN THAT LANGUAGE.)

౨ৎ Smart but reckless. Mattheo doesn’t study much, but he’s one of those annoyingly brilliant types who can pick up a spell by watching someone else do it once. He’d ace every class if he cared enough to put in the effort.

౨ৎ Social butterfly with teeth. He thrives in social situations—not because he’s polite, but because he’s got the charisma of a goddamn snake. Everyone either loves him, hates him, or fears him. Sometimes all three at once. "Hey, sweetheart. Didn’t think I’d catch you looking, but here we are." (Boy, nobody was looking. But now we are.)

౨ৎ Driest sense of humor. Mattheo’s sarcasm is so sharp it could cut glass. Half the time, people not sure if he’s joking or insulting them.

౨ৎ But according to him you look good in everything. Wearing a garbage bad? "Oh baby, You look like goddess"

౨ৎ Drinks tea like an old man. (Yeah, you thought he’d be a whiskey guy, didn’t you? Nope. Earl Grey, no sugar, no milk. Deal with it.)

౨ৎ Parties are his stage. Mattheo doesn’t just attend parties—he owns them. Whether he’s in the center of a fight or the middle of the dance floor, he’s the one everyone’s watching. And if he’s not? He’ll make sure he is. "Draco’s drunk, Theo’s being boring, and you’re coming with me. Now."

౨ৎ Protector vibes, but make it chaotic. Mattheo will fight anyone, anywhere, at any time if they so much as look at his friends the wrong way. But he’s not the silent type—oh no, he’s the guy yelling insults mid-fight and making sure the whole room knows why this person deserved it.

౨ৎ Would you trust Mattheo Riddle to make a single responsible decision in his life? No. Would you follow him into the chaos anyway? Absolutely.

Mattheo Riddle | Boyfriend

Oh, dating Mattheo Riddle is like dating a thunderstorm: chaotic, intense, and utterly mesmerizing. He’s a mix of reckless devotion, gentlemanly gestures, and just the right amount of toxic edge to keep things interesting.

౨ৎ The Fighter You Can’t Stay Mad At:

Let’s get this out of the way: Mattheo is always getting into fights. Whether it’s over you, his friends, or just because someone looked at him wrong, his knuckles are perpetually bruised.

You’ve become an expert at patching him up, and even though he winces when you clean his wounds, he sits still because you’re the one touching him.

But the second you start crying while bandaging him up? Oh, his heart shatters. He’d rather die in the ring than see tears in your eyes. "Baby, please don’t cry. It’s just a scratch—I’m fine, I promise." (Spoiler: It’s not just a scratch, but he’ll never admit it because he can’t stand upsetting you.)

౨ৎ The Open Book:

Mattheo tells you everything. Even the dumb stuff that doesn’t matter.

He’ll burst into your room with stories about the dumb prank Theo pulled or the argument he had with Draco over which Quidditch team is better.

It’s not just oversharing—it’s that he wants you to be part of every aspect of his life. You’re his person, and he doesn’t hold back. "Guess what? Draco tripped on his robe this morning, We saw his penis, and Theo nearly died laughing. You should’ve been there—it was glorious."

౨ৎ Your Number One Listener:

If you’re a talker, Mattheo listens like your words are the most important thing in the world. He’ll nod, ask questions, and remember everything.

You’ll mention something in passing—like wanting to try a new dessert—and two weeks later, he’ll surprise you with it.

And if someone interrupts you while you’re talking? Oh, they’re about to meet a very pissed-off Mattheo. "She wasn’t finished speaking. Shut up and wait your turn."

౨ৎ Gentleman With a Hint of Chaos:

Despite his bad-boy demeanor, Mattheo has a surprisingly soft, thoughtful side.

He carries pads or tampons for you, keeps a hair tie around his wrist just in case, and always has a water bottle on hand because you forget to stay hydrated.

He’ll open doors, walk on the side closest to the street, and make sure you’re warm when it’s cold. (But let’s be honest, he’ll also yank you into a broom closet mid-conversation because he needs to feel you right now.)

౨ৎ Hopelessly Devoted (But Low-Key Toxic):

Mattheo worships the ground you walk on, but don’t mistake that for him being easygoing. Oh no. His loyalty comes with a dark, possessive streak.

He’s not the type to tell you who you can or can’t talk to, but rest assured, anyone who crosses a line with you will regret it.

You can do anything, like literally anything. You can kill a guy and all Mattheo would do is kiss your forehead and hide the body. According to him you are never wrong. You can slap him, punch him, or worse kill him he would still justify it saying there must be a reason behind this.

He’s subtle but scary when it comes to protecting you. A cutting glare, a whispered threat, or just his mere presence is usually enough to keep people in line.

౨ৎ How He Fell in Love:

Mattheo thought he was immune to love. Sure, he flirted and hooked up, but real feelings? Nah, not for him.

Until you came along.

It hit him during one of his usual brawls. He glanced at the crowd, and there you were, looking so worried. And suddenly, getting punched didn’t matter—making sure you never had to worry about him like that again did.

Afterward, he was awkward as hell trying to tell you how he felt. He didn’t have Theo’s calculated charm or Draco’s smoothness. Instead, he just blurted it out one day while you were laughing at some dumb joke he made. "I love you. Like, I think I’d die if you ever left me, so… yeah."

Your stunned silence nearly killed him, but then you kissed him, and he knew he’d never want anyone else.

౨ৎ Ride or Die Energy:

Mattheo isn’t just your boyfriend; he’s your partner in crime.

Whether it’s sneaking into the Restricted Section, hexing someone who pissed you off, or just holding your hand while you rant, he’s always got your back.

He might be reckless, dramatic, and a little toxic, but he’s also fiercely loyal, endlessly devoted, and absolutely crazy about you.

Dating Mattheo Riddle? Exhausting. Chaotic. Perfect.

Mattheo Riddle | Affection

Mattheo Riddle isn't the type to pour out his feelings in grand speeches or dramatic gestures—no, he's far too intense and possessive for that. But when it comes to affection? He’s got a way of showing it that’ll make you never doubt how much you mean to him.

౨ৎ The Quiet, Intense Affection:

Mattheo is a man of action, not words. He won’t always tell you he loves you, but his touch? Oh, it says everything.

His hand on your waist when you walk through crowded hallways. The way his fingers graze your back when you’re standing too close to someone.

In public, he’s cool and calm. But when it’s just the two of you? He’s all about that quiet intensity that makes your heart race.

If someone tries to flirt with you? He’ll just stand there, leaning against a wall with a smirk, eyes dark and unreadable, watching. He doesn’t need to say a word; everyone knows you’re his.

౨ৎ Praise Kink, Because Why Not?

Mattheo lives for praising you, but not in some sugary, over-the-top way. No, his words are quiet, almost off-handed—but they hit like a freight train.

"I don't know how you make doing nothing look so fucking sexy."

“You’re brilliant. You’ve got this whole school eating out of the palm of your hand, and I love it.”

He’ll say things that seem like offhand compliments but are actually his way of making it clear you’re the most important thing in his life. You’ll think about it later, and that’s when it hits: he means it.

౨ৎ Acts of Service—Mattheo Style:

Mattheo won’t jump up and start fussing over you the second you’re upset. He’ll do it in his own way—quietly, but with a look that says he’ll take care of you.

He won’t tell you when he’s bought your favorite candy or snuck into the library to grab the book you mentioned once.

"You said you were feeling stressed, so I already cleared your schedule for the week," he’ll say, as though it’s no big deal. (It’s a huge deal, but he’ll never admit it.)

If you’re tired and need a break, you can bet Mattheo will be the one to drag you out of the common room for a walk, simply so you can breathe without all the chaos.

౨ৎ Possessiveness, But Make It Sexy:

Mattheo doesn’t have to raise his voice or throw punches to show how much you’re his. His possessiveness is felt—a deep, simmering intensity that wraps around you.

At parties, his hand is always on you. Resting on your back, on your thigh, on the curve of your waist. Every touch is a claim, subtle but strong.

He doesn’t need to make a scene when someone flirts with you. Instead, you’ll see him lean in, whisper something in your ear, and the person who was trying to flirt with you? Suddenly, they’ll lose interest.

"I believe you’re standing a little too close to her," Mattheo will say, his voice smooth, and then? Instant silence. You’ll never see that person again.

౨ৎ The Soft Side of Mattheo:

Don’t be fooled by his hard exterior—Mattheo has a surprisingly soft side, but only when he’s with you.

He loves wrapping you up in his arms, his strong hands gently cradling your head as he runs his fingers through your hair. The moment the world is quiet, Mattheo will pull you closer, murmuring things only meant for you.

"You’re the only one who can make me feel like I can finally breathe," he’ll whisper, kissing your forehead like it’s the most sacred thing in the world.

He’s the type to hold you while you fall asleep, his hand resting on your back, as though he’s terrified of letting you go.

౨ৎ Mattheo Riddle, the Perfect Boyfriend:

He’s everything you didn’t know you needed. Intense, protective, and slightly toxic, but in the best way possible.

He’ll fight for you, adore you in his own way, and make you feel like you’re the only one in the world.

It’s the kind of love that burns, but in the most thrilling, heart-stopping way possible.

Because, at the end of the day, Mattheo Riddle isn’t just your boyfriend—he’s your protector, your love, your obsession.

And honestly? You’d never want it any other way.

(So yeah, you might occasionally hate how possessive he is, but you love it. Let’s be real, you know he’s all yours and you wouldn’t have it any other way.)

Mattheo Riddle | Obsessive Devotion

If Theodore is calculated destruction, Mattheo Riddle is reckless chaos. He doesn’t just want you to fall apart; he wants to be the reason you can’t put yourself back together. With Mattheo, it’s raw, unrelenting intensity—the kind that leaves you breathless, marked, and utterly ruined.

౨ৎ The Firestarter:

Mattheo thrives on tension, but unlike Theo’s slow burn, Mattheo’s approach is an inferno. He’ll corner you in dark hallways, his hands caging you against the wall, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs something filthy.

"You think you can tease me like that and get away with it? Oh, sweetheart, we’re far from done."

He doesn’t do subtle. His need is primal, immediate, and entirely consuming. If you’re within reach, you’re his—whether it’s in the privacy of his dorm or against a cold stone wall in the dungeons.

౨ৎ Possessive Chaos:

Mattheo doesn’t just want to own you—he needs to make sure everyone else knows it.

He leaves marks on purpose, smirking when you try to cover them up. "Don’t hide it, baby. Let them see who you belong to."

He’ll pull you onto his lap at parties, his hands gripping your thighs possessively, his dark eyes daring anyone to come close.

౨ৎ Praise Me, Baby:

Mattheo isn’t shy about telling you exactly how much he wants you. His words are rough, filthy, and laced with need, but they always leave you trembling.

"You’re a fucking goddess, you know that? Look at you, taking me so perfectly."

He thrives on your reactions—every gasp, every moan, every arch of your back. It’s his fuel, his addiction.

And if you praise him back? If you tell him he’s good, that he’s making you feel amazing? His restraint snaps. He becomes desperate, almost feral, to prove that he can give you everything you want and more.

౨ৎ Control Meets Chaos:

Mattheo loves being in control, but he’s also unpredictable. One moment, he’s guiding you with a firm, steady hand; the next, he’s pinning you down, his lips bruising yours as he loses himself in the heat of the moment.

He’s rough but never careless. Every grip, every bite, every growled "mine" is deliberate, a testament to just how much he adores you.

Push him too far, though—maybe tease him with a sly smile or brush your fingers against his neck when you know he can’t do anything about it—and you’ll unlock a side of him that’s both thrilling and terrifying.

"You want to play games, sweetheart? Fine. But don’t think for a second you’ll win."

౨ৎ The Edge of Obsession:

Mattheo isn’t just devoted—he’s obsessed. He memorizes every little thing about you—your favorite scent, the way your lips twitch when you’re amused, the soft sounds you make when he kisses that spot just below your ear.

He carries your favorite snacks in his bag, not because you asked, but because he noticed you skipped lunch one day.

౨ৎ Endurance King:

Mattheo doesn’t stop until you’re trembling, breathless, and begging for mercy. Even then, he’ll push just a little further, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he watches you fall apart beneath him.

"One more, baby. Just one more. You can do that for me, can’t you?"

And when you think you’ve reached your limit, he’ll hold you close, his voice soft and soothing as he helps you come back down.

౨ৎ Switching It Up:

Mattheo loves being in control, but when you take charge? Oh, it drives him wild. The second you push him onto the bed, straddle his hips, and demand that he behave, he’s putty in your hands.

"You’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind, baby."

Watching you take what you want from him—feeling your nails dig into his skin, hearing the way you gasp his name—it’s enough to make him come undone every single time.

౨ৎ The Vulnerable Side of Mattheo:

As intense and chaotic as he is, Mattheo has a softer side that he only shows to you. After the fire has burned out, he’ll hold you close, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispers things he’d never admit in the light of day.

"You’re everything to me, you know that? I’d burn the whole world down for you."

He loves running his fingers through your hair, tracing lazy patterns on your skin as he listens to your heartbeat. It’s in those quiet moments that you see the depth of his devotion—the way he’s completely, irreversibly yours.

౨ৎ Mattheo Riddle, The Lover You’ll Never Forget:

He’s fire and brimstone, chaos and passion, but beneath it all is a man who would do anything to make you feel loved, desired, and protected.

With Mattheo, every touch, every word, every moment is a whirlwind of intensity that leaves you craving more.

Because once you’ve been loved by Mattheo Riddle? No one else will ever compare.

[awkwardauthorwrites]

Friends Don't

Word Count: 4.2k

Themes: fluff, pining

Summary: Y/N comes to a startling revelation when brewing Amortentia in potions class

Warnings: All characters aged up to 18+. Potential spoilers for HL

Meet me in the Common Room, midnight - S 

Y/N looked across the cauldrons at Sebastian and nodded once, a small smile on her face. He grinned back, before turning to face Professor Sharp before he could get caught not paying attention. 

“Is that a love letter from Sallow?” Imelda leant forward, a teasing smirk on her face.

“Come off it,” Y/N rolled her eyes and tucked the note into her textbook. “You know we’re just friends.”

“Friends don’t look at friends that way,” she shot a look over at Sebastian, who was standing over his cauldron with a confused look on his face. His brow was furrowed as he looked between his textbook and the potion he was making, which was supposed to be a teal colour, but was currently navy blue. “Point proven.” Y/N turned back to her with an unimpressed glare as she stirred her own potion (which was the correct shade of teal).

“You need a new hobby. Clearly Quidditch isn’t keeping you busy enough.”

“Watching you and Sallow pine after each other like lovesick Crup puppies is my new hobby.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“And you’re in denial,” Imelda smiled sweetly as Y/N and turned back to her potion as Professor Sharp made his rounds by their station. He stopped by Sebastian’s smoking cauldron with a sigh and quiet reprimand (You’re usually better than this Mr Sallow) before moving onto the next group of students.

“If you’ve been following the instructions in your books,” Professor Sharp called out, “your potions should start turning pink as you stir it. Once it’s the right shade you may place the final ingredient in.”

Y/N watched in fascination as the contents of her cauldron began to change colour with every clockwise rotation of her wand. Although she had now been attending Hogwarts for two years, magic never failed to amaze her. She couldn’t believe she had gone the majority of her life not knowing it existed. The colour eventually shifted to the pale pink that Professor Sharp had spoken about and Y/N added the crushed moonstone and watched it take on a pearlescent sheen. 

“Ten points to Slytherin, Miss Y/L/N. Would you care to share with the class?” Sharp loomed over her shoulder, peering into her cauldron. Y/N watched as the class looked over curiously and caught Sebastian’s eye. He raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed with her, and looked down at her potion as if to say well, go on then. She leant forward to smell the contents of the cauldron, trying to decipher the scents coming from in front of her. Petrichor, wildflowers and…oh. Y/N blinked and leant back so she could pick up the coffee beans Sharp had left on each station so they had a palate cleanser. After a quick smell of the bitter grounds she turned to her cauldron again. Oh.

“Well?” Imelda asked her.

“If it’s all the same, Professor. I’d rather not,” Y/N muttered, her face flaming. The class broke into a chorus of whispers, all trying to guess what scent had turned the Hero of Hogwarts a pretty shade of pink. Although it was hidden well, Y/N watched as Sharp’s mouth twitched up in amusement before he moved on from her.

“What did you smell?” Imelda whispered to her. Y/N shook her head, her heart thundering in her chest. She couldn’t tell anyone she had smelled Sebastian’s smoky cologne, the one that seemed to stick to him all day even though he barely used it. Imelda looked between Y/N’s red face and her cauldron before looking across the station to Sebastian and a knowing smirk fell on her features. “Sebastian…” Y/N shot her a warning look, which Imelda pointedly ignored. “What do you smell?”

“Nice try, Imelda,” he chuckled and stirred his own potion. “I’m not falling for that.”

“You’re both no fun.”

“Just because yours is probably something predictable like broom polish doesn’t mean we’re not fun for not wanting to share,” Y/N shot. Imelda let out a laugh and patted her friend’s hand. 

“Careful there Y/L/N, I’ve still got some cards up my sleeve for you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Y/N glared at the girl next to her, stomach churning nervously. Imelda just grinned at her before adding her own crushed moonstone to her cauldron, signalling the end of the conversation. Y/N was vaguely aware of Sebastian watching them curiously from across the potions station and turned to face the raven-haired girl next to her, clutching the sleeve of her robes. “Imelda.”

“Calm down,” she laughed quietly and leant in so no one else could hear. “Your not-so-secret crush on Sallow is safe with me. I actually quite enjoy watching you two act like you don’t have feelings for each other.” With a wave of her wand, Imelda tidied her potions station and left the class swiftly, just as the bell rang outside. Y/N cursed the day she met the girl, and more specifically, became friends with her after completing all of her stupid broom trials, and quickly cleaned her own station before leaving the classroom. It wasn’t until she was halfway to the Great Hall for dinner that she realised what Imelda had implied with her parting words. 

Sebastian couldn’t have feelings for me, she wondered, chewing on her bottom lip thoughtfully, could he? No, that’s ridiculous, she shook her head to rid herself of the assumption.

“Careful, Y/N,” a hand grabbed the back of her robes and gently tugged her back a couple of steps before she could fall off the Grand Staircase. “You’re usually more aware than this, where did you go?” Sebastian looked concerned and pulled her away from a crowd of students that was walking their way. Y/N looked up at him, craning her neck more than she used to when they met in fifth year. Sometime in the summer between fifth and sixth year Sebastian had really come into his own. He had always been attractive, but somewhere along the way, without her really noticing, he had suddenly shot up and filled out. The jumper he wore to fight the perpetual chill in the dungeons did little to cover up the muscle that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. 

“Dinner, I’m starving,” she lied, freeing her robes from his grasp so she could continue to walk towards the Great Hall. “How’s Ominis? I haven’t heard from him much since he went on his unsanctioned visit to see Anne.” Although he grumbled like he was annoyed, Y/N knew deep down Sebastian was a little pleased that his best friend and sister had finally started to court a few months ago. Apparently watching Ominis pretend he hadn’t been in love with her since they were children was sickening to say the least. 

Y/N was relieved when Anne reached out to Sebastian at the beginning of their final year at Hogwarts and extended an olive branch. She watched as Sebastian had read the initial letter, a wide smile on his face and unshed tears in his eyes before he brandished the piece of parchment at her excitedly. The twins weren’t as close as they used to be, but they were slowly mending the bridge that had burned down with their Uncle’s untimely death. 

“Where do you keep going? What are you thinking about?” Sebastian asked her. His hand came out to smooth the crease in between her eyes, lingering for a moment before he pulled away. 

“You.”

“Oh really?” he arched an eyebrow, a sly smile falling on his lips. “Is this where you finally admit I’m the most handsome student at Hogwarts?”

“I thought you had three years worth of self-imposed trophies to say just that.”

“Yes, but none of those mean anything without your agreement.” Something danced behind Sebastian’s eyes, a look Y/N couldn’t quite decipher. She was used to his charming nature and the confidence he seemed to exude, but every so often he said something and paired it with a look that was different. He looked…uncertain? Hopeful, maybe. 

“I didn’t realise my opinions held so much weight for you.” 

“And here I thought it was obvious that I hold you in the highest regard.” The air around them changed. Y/N couldn’t pinpoint it exactly - it wasn’t tense, but she felt a palpable shift in energy. She looked away from him and hoped he couldn’t see the blush that she felt rise to her cheeks as she walked into the Great Hall and made her way to the Slytherin table. She found Poppy seated with Imelda, heads bent together as they chatted quietly. They looked up as Sebastian and Y/N sat down, and a downright devilish grin was plastered on Imelda’s face. 

“The rumours about what you can smell in Amortentia and refused to share in class are already circling.”

“Don’t start,” Y/N groaned as Sebastian filled her plate with food. 

“The majority seem to think you can smell something that relates to Sebastian or Ominis,” Poppy added.

“Ominis?” Sebastian stopped filling Y/N’s glass with pumpkin juice, his tone incredulous. “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.”

“How would you know?” Imelda shot at him. “Has Y/N told you what she could smell?”

“This whole conversation is ridiculous,” Y/N cut in, rolling her eyes. She grabbed the large bowl of mashed potatoes and spooned some onto Sebastian’s plate. 

“It’s not that bad, Y/N,” Poppy gave her a reassuring smile. “I think it’s sweet. What you can actually smell, that is.” Y/N paused, the piece of chicken intended for Sebastian’s plate wobbling precariously on the serving spoon.

“How do you know what she can smell?” Sebastian looked up at her sharply, though there was no malice in his voice.

“Imelda told me.”

“Imelda,” Y/N hissed at the girl across the table from her at the same time Sebastian gave her a reproachful look. 

“You told Imelda?”

“I didn’t tell her anything,” Y/N protested. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. She could hear a few of her classmates around them mutter about her, all supplying options for what she could smell in the love potion. “I think I’m going to grab something from the kitchens instead,” Y/N stood and quickly made her way out of the hall before any of them could follow her. The moment Y/N was out of earshot Imelda leant across the table to hit Sebastian across the back of his head.

“Ow,” he rubbed his head and gave the raven-haired girl a disapproving glare, “what was that for?”

“You’re an absolute idiot, Sebastian Sallow.”

“Imelda…” Poppy nudged the girl gently before offering Sebastian a sympathetic smile. “What she means is - ”

“Oh, I have no doubt she meant it.” Later Sebastian would vehemently deny to anyone that he was pouting like a scolded child after being accosted by Imelda Reyes, but at that current moment all he could do was sulk as he pushed some peas around his plate. 

“I did,” Imelda offered him a saccharine smile and shrugged unapologetically at Poppy, who looked disappointed at the pair. “If you don’t go after what you want, Sallow, others are going to take it from you.”

“Y/N isn’t some belonging that people can just have, least of all me. She’s a person with her own thoughts and feelings.”

“Who said I was talking about Y/N?” Sebastian’s head shot up to meet Imelda’s self-satisfied smirk and let out a low groan. “My point is,” she continued as he (rather dramatically, Imelda thought) lay his head down to rest on the table, “you’re in Slytherin. We’re ambitious to a fault, and when we know what we want we strive to achieve and obtain it. What’s stopping you from going after Y/N?”

“We’re just friends.” The lie Sebastian muttered on a daily basis felt thin to even his ears, and clearly neither Imelda or Poppy was impressed either. 

“Why could you smell her in the Amortentia then?” Poppy asked.

“How did you know I - oh. I’m impressed, Sweeting. That was very Slytherin of you,” Sebastian laughed and shook his head in disbelief. “What would you both have me say then? Y/N I’ve been in love with you since fifth year when we fought a troll together in Hogsmeade?” he asked rhetorically. If his face wasn’t red with embarrassment before, it was now as the words slipped out of his mouth. “I don’t - I mean, I do? I think. I didn’t mean - ” His stammers were interrupted by Poppy’s quiet laugh. 

“Oh Sebastian, you don’t need a pair of working eyes to know that you’re in love with Y/N Y/L/N. I think the only person oblivious to your feelings is Y/N herself.”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I ruin our friendship?” he asked quietly. The girls shared a look, and if Sebastian would have looked at either of them he would have noticed a silent conversation happening between the pair.

“Okay, look. I told Y/N I wasn’t going to tell you this, but you’re behaving like a lovesick second year and it’s making me sick,” Imelda flicked a pea at Sebastian in disdain. “Now, I can’t confirm it, but I strongly suspect that her Amortentia did smell of you.” Sebastian gave her a disbelieving look and sent the pea back across the table at her. “I agree that it lacks proof, but I do happen to know for a fact that she does have feelings for you. She told me herself.”

“She what?” That caught Sebastian’s attention, and that of a few people around them as well. Imelda shot them all a glare and they quickly turned back to their own conversations.

“If you tell her I told you I will hunt you down like the animal you are and use you as target practice for the beaters. I know where you sleep, Sallow.”

“She…” Sebastian was at a loss for words as he looked at Poppy for confirmation, who nodded uncertainly in agreement. “I need to go speak to her,” he muttered, more to himself than the girls in front of him. He continued to murmur quietly to himself as he hauled himself up and out of the Great Hall, his expression wavering between surprise and bliss as he left.

“When did Y/N tell you she liked Sebastian?” Poppy asked once he had left.

“Oh, she didn’t. But I think we can both agree neither of them was going to do anything without a nudge, don’t you? Could you pass the pumpkin juice?”

*

Y/N let out a quiet sigh as she snuck back into the Slytherin Common Room. It was nearing midnight, and although she wanted nothing more than to fall into her bed she trudged through the silent room instead to sit and wait for Sebastian by the fireplace. After leaving the Great Hall, Y/N had trekked her way up to the Room of Requirement to spend some time taking care of the various magical beasts in her vivarium. The animals couldn’t pester her like people did, asking her questions she didn’t want to answer, and worst, ones she didn’t have the answers to. She couldn’t understand why everyone was pushing their way into her business; why did it matter what (or who, she thought dryly) she could smell in the Amortentia? So what if she could smell Sebastian, and who was Imelda freaking Reyes to tell her she had feelings for her best friend.

Well, Y/N chewed on her lower lip as she stared into the dying embers, he was rather handsome. Something he would take great satisfaction in if she admitted it out loud. And she supposed, if she was really thinking about it, he was quite funny, and charming, and smart, and possibly the kindest person she knew, and - oh Merlin, she had feelings for Sebastian Sallow. 

He was her best friend, and hadn’t her aunt always told her those made for the best life partners? Not someone who you just existed with, but someone who knew you, knew every part of you, and would still stand by you. Not that she was thinking about spending the rest of her life with him. Y/N felt a blush rise to her cheeks as an unwarranted image of her in a white dress and Sebastian looking absolutely striking in a suit came to mind. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” A low voice startled her, and Y/N pressed a hand to her chest as she took note of Sebastian sitting in the armchair next to her. He bit his lip in amusement at her shock, but was smart enough to keep his comments to himself.

“How long have you been sitting there?”

“Long enough to watch you groan to yourself twice and turn the most enticing shade of pink,” he teased. “Where do you keep going today?”he asked, a hint of concern in his eyes.

“I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”

“Anything I can help with?” Sebastian offered. Yes, Y/N thought to herself, you can start by bathing in bubotuber pus.

“I’ll be fine, Sebastian. There’s no need to fret.”

“You battle trolls for fun, I think there is some need to fret.”

“You’ve battled more than one troll with me, too.”

“Ah, but there’s the obvious difference. You don’t worry for me the same way.”

“You can’t mean that,” Y/N sat upright in her chair, a withering glare on her features. “Of course I worry about you, you idiot.”

“Why is everyone calling me an idiot tonight?”

“Clearly it’s warranted,” Y/N sniffed in annoyance and sank back down into her seat. How dare he say she didn’t worry for him, all she’s done for the past two years was worry about him.

Sebastian could tell he had said the wrong thing. He knew - of course he knew - that she worried and cared for him. No one else would have witnessed and experienced everything they had together in their fifth year and still stood by him afterwards. It was never a question to Y/N whether he needed forgiving. Even Ominis, who had been with him since before he could remember, needed a while to come back around and speak to Sebastian again, but she didn’t. Granted, it had taken a couple of weeks as things had happened in quick succession, from the death of his uncle, to fighting Harlow, then Rookwood, to finally defeating Ranrok; but there Y/N was, sitting next to him at Professor Fig’s memorial, silent tears running down her face as she clutched his hand tightly for comfort. 

“I apologise,” he reached out to take her hand. “It seems I’m not quite done putting my foot in my mouth whenever you’re around.”

“Yes, it seems so.” Her words were flat, but she squeezed his hand back gently to let him know all was forgiven. Sebastian had the overwhelming urge to take Y/N into his arms and never let go, but also reprimand her at the same time. She was always the first to call him out when he was being a prat - which, he admitted to himself, happened more often than not - but she always forgave him for it moments later.

He took a moment to watch as she stared into the flames once more. His eyes roamed over her features, from her brilliant eyes, down the slope of her nose and rested on her mouth. Y/N could give any Ravenclaw a run for their money with the amount of wit she fired, and even though Sebastian was often on the receiving end, he loved it. He loved the way she rolled her eyes at him when she shot a particularly sarcastic or dry comment his way; he loved when she teased him and made him question his sanity and oh, he adored it when she would shoot him a rare, flirtatious comment.

He loved her.

The thought took his breath from him. He had said it out loud in the Great Hall earlier, but it was unintentional, and he wasn’t quite sure of it then, but now…now he was sure. He was in love with her. Every part. He wanted to share every day, every night, every moment with her. 

“You’re staring.”

“You’re beautiful,” he replied without thinking. He watched as a faint blush dusted Y/N’s cheeks and his heart stuttered in his chest. How could he ever doubt how he felt for her? “What did you smell in the Amortentia?” Sebastian asked, a sudden surge of confidence hitting him.

“Sebastian,” Y/N sighed heavily, “I don’t want to talk about it.” Y/N turned to look at him, a pleading look on her face. She was tired, so tired, at having to pretend she wasn’t irrevocably head over heels for the man next to her. She feared if he asked her any more questions he would see straight through her, and then their friendship would be ruined and he would want nothing more to do with her. No, the logical part of her brain replied, Sebastian is too nice for that. Instead he would let her down gently, with the soft tone one would reserve for an injured animal or a sick child.

“I could smell you,” he blurted out. Y/N blinked once, not quite sure she had heard him properly, before looking over at him slowly. “Your perfume, to be more specific. And the smell of rain, from the night we danced out in it. Also those strawberry tarts you love to eat at breakfast.” He stood from his seat before sinking to his feet so he could kneel in front of her on the stone floor. “All I could smell was you.”

“Sebastian…”

“What did you smell?” he asked her again, a hint of desperation in his eyes. She thought there was nothing more between them but friendship, that he could never look at her the way she wanted him t, but the look in his eyes right now…Merlin, how could she ever think that? Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked down at him and watched as his hands came to rest on her knees gently. She could feel the heat of his skin through the material of her trousers and all she could think of was more. She wanted more. “Darling? I’m putting my heart on the line here.”

“It was you,” she whispered after a moment, afraid to say it much louder. “You, when we danced in the rain. You, when you showed me the clearing full of wildflowers. Just…you. It was all you, Sebastian.” She met his gaze, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “It’s always been you, I just didn’t realise it until lately.”

“You’re supposed to be the smart one,” he teased lightly. He raised his hand to wipe away a stray tear, his thumb stroking her cheek gently. “Why are you crying?”

“I…” Y/N let out a sound that was between a sob and a chuckle and slid down so she was kneeling on the floor with Sebastian. “I think I was too scared to tell you before, so I pretended like it didn’t exist. These feelings have been bottled up for so long, only to be let out now…” she wiped away her own tears this time and offered him a rueful smile. 

“Oh darling,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, “it seems we’ve both been a little slow, hm? How could you not see I’m hopelessly head over heels for you?” He rested his forehead on hers, watching with slight satisfaction as her eyes fluttered closed in anticipation and longing. “You have been, and always will be, my one and only.”

“You’re going to make me cry again,” Y/N protested weakly. Sebastian chuckled quietly and brushed a stray hair from her eyes. He watched as the wheels turned in her head, and knew she was deep in thought when she started to chew on her lower lip thoughtfully. 

“Come back to me, what are you thinking?”

“It’s highly improper.”

“My favourite,” he smiled crookedly and ran his thumb across her lower lip. “Tell me.” Instead,  after a brief moment of hesitation, Y/N closed the gap between them and pressed her lips to his gently. She pulled away all too soon for Sebastian’s liking, her eyes darting across his face for any reaction he disapproved of - or worst, didn’t enjoy - their chaste kiss. He pulled her back in slowly, giving her more than enough time to pull away should she choose to do so, and pressed his lips back to her sweetly. 

From the other end of the Common Room, Imelda watched quietly as the couple kissed each other with stomach-churning sweetness, and as she turned to leave she made a mental note to boast to Poppy first thing in the morning that she was right yet again. 

[777heavengirl]

AM - Chapter 1

Snap Out Of It 

Sirius Black x reader Chapter 1/3 Warnings: angst?, smoking, suggestive themes, fwb to lovers word count: 4,684 masterlist

Currently playing: Snap Out Of It by the Arctic Monkeys

Chapters i, ii, iii

Sirius Black does not care. He doesn't care about who you date or hang out with. He does not care that when you smile the corner of your eyes crinkle or that he made you laugh so hard once you actually cried. Sirius does not care that the pink hair clips Remus got you for your birthday matched your lip gloss, as well as the underwear you wore on his birthday. He doesn’t care that you don’t protest when he doesn’t want you spending the night. He doesn’t care that you risked the wrath of Walburga Black by sneaking into the Black household during the summer, just to help heal his wounds as they were so extensive he could not do it alone. He doesn’t care that you always wink at him before your quidditch matches. He doesn’t care that you ditched him to hang out with a no-name blond from-

Sirius didn't want to remember what house he was in, much less his name.

The Gryffindor common room was warm and fairly empty. While the marauders never wasted an opportunity to run around Hogsmeade for a couple of hours, it had been the collective decision, dictated by the foulness of Sirius’s mood, that the lot would stay in the castle today. At least for the first part of the day. It was now 5 in the afternoon.

Remus slapped his book closed, nothing short of exasperated. Although sitting crisscross on the large plush armchair and reading had helped negate the hostile vibrations Sirius had been emitting the past hour, enough was enough.

“If you’re going to pout all day about Y/N’s absence, invite her to Hogsmeade yourself instead next time,”

“Is that where she is? Hadn’t noticed,”

“You are a terrible liar Pads please spare us,” James groaned from the ground, his back against the bottom half of the armchair Remus sat on.

“I don’t know why you think I give a rat’s ass where she is or who she’s with right now,” Sirius knew he was really stretching it now, his tone hadn’t exactly come across as calm and nonchalant. Quite the opposite, his brows had furrowed his face into a scowl and Remus had taken this as his sign to leave, getting up from his chair, James sluggishly crawling into the now empty spot.

“Y/N is not yours Sirius,” Peter frowned at the boy. Sirius’s clenched jaw and hard stare did nothing but spur Peter into rolling his eyes. “You don’t get to be upset when you insist there is nothing between the two of you and then expect her to be at your beck and call,” Peter swiftly got up after, not wanting to even hear what Sirius had to say. They were best mates, but that didn’t mean that any of the marauders wouldn’t tell Sirius Black when he was being an asshole. Peter grabbed his coat from the back of the couch, as he and Remus made a beeline to the common room door, no doubt to make their way to Hogsmeade, enough of the day had been wasted. The fat lady's singing, as she so often fancied doing, perforated the room briefly as the boys opened and closed the door.

“Seriously mate,” James shook his head. ‘You need to snap out of it”. Sirius looked up from his spot on the couch, his legs could now stretch with Peter’s absence and he took the cushion Peter had been hugging to put between his back and the arm of the couch. He couldn't help but stare at the ceiling. James started speaking mindlessly about anything, really, the new prank they wanted to try out, if he should ask Lily Evans on a second date or if it was too soon? I reckon she enjoyed it though. James knew quite well Sirius hadn't been truly listening, but he didn't mind. Not really anyway. He knew his friend quite well, he knew the feelings the boy was trying to repress were bound to bubble up sometime. He had caught Sirius staring at you the entire time you had been at Hogwarts. His eyes trailed after you since you were 11. Since you met on the train.

It wasn't like James didn't know what had been happening recently either. You had been attached at the hip since the ripe age of 5. He was your closest confidant, you joked you were actually cousins. Siblings. He had known about the spirals of conflicted feelings you had fallen on during your fifth year. Much to your own dismay, you liked Sirius Black.

James had a low-key way of encouraging it, even knowing the casanova tendencies Sirius had started to display. The way you bounced off of each other, the jokes, the irony, the stolen glances. The way Sirius's touch always seemed to drift towards you, small pushes after jokes, sweeping you off the ground as you landed, snitch still in your grip. You'd have to be blind to not see the chemistry the two of you had.

Maybe Sirius needed glasses.

James did, however, regret encouraging you. Since April of your fifth year til now, February of your sixth, you had been tangled in Sirius's bed sheets. But not his heart. He wouldn't allow it. And you acted like you didn't either. James held you a good couple of times, as the sobs broke your chest and endless tears poured from your eyes. It isn't his fault Jamie, promise me you won't be mad at him. He couldn't exactly bring himself to let your heartbreak roll off his back, but he didn't want to expose your feelings. So he kept his mouth shut and went to crazy lengths to make sure Sirius wasn't seeing anyone else. Pulling Sirius into crazy unprompted schemes, setting up the girl of the week with someone else, and putting all sorts of spells to lock their door during parties. This one had left them locked out and sleeping in the common room quite a few times. Remus hadn't been happy.

James had tried his best.

Sirius continued to stare up, eyes glazed over as he tried to count the cracks in the ceiling of the common room. He wondered if you were having fun. If the unnamed blond made you laugh. Had you laughed to the point of tears? He doubted it, he looked a bit dull.

Sirius Black did not care that when he asked you if you were going on a date, you blushed, waving off his statement like it was a cloud of smoke.

-

You didn’t want to piss off Sirius. That actually wasn’t the goal at all, because who the bloody hell cares what he thinks? Yet you couldn’t help but think of him while you sat in Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop.

He'd hate this place.

The tea shop was a cute place, it frankly was. It was a rather twee location, filled to the brim with bows and frills. You stared holes into the lacy napkins and sugar bowls. You didn't particularly dislike it. It was cute and you had grown to cherish the pinks and bows, that came with what some defined as femininity. But you enjoyed such things in moderation. And in secret. A lacy napkin stuck out slightly from your small handbag pushed down in a hurry. It would be nice for your scrapbook.

It was the date spot for the hopeless romantics. Or the pushy ones too. You didn’t peg Mr. Jacob Brown as one to frequent such places, but you wouldn’t say no to a free meal with a handsome man.

You weren't usually into blondes though.

You shared the same table as him for Potions. Slytherin and Gryffindor were mixed in this class and you had a feeling Slughorn was regretting this fact as the term trudged along. Jacob was not what you expected. He was one of the more quiet ones, if you squinted he reminded you a bit of Peter. Demeanor wise at least. Jacob's kind eyes found it hard to look straight at yours as he caught you after class, you wouldn't have heard him calling you if he hadn't been in front of you. You could feel Sirius's eyes burning holes into the back of your head as he wanted at the classroom's door while you talked with the tall boy. You opted to ignore him as you listened to Jacob stutter out how he'd be delighted if you would be up for going to Hogsmeade with him on Saturday. You didn't need to say yes though,

You did.

His tall stature, golden blond hair, and tanned skin quite contrasted not only your dear friend Peter but a certain boy you were trying painfully hard not to think about. Jacob was quiet and kind, with a knack for exploding whatever was brewing in his cauldron often. But when you met up with him at Hogsmeade, the frigid February air bitting your cheeks, it was like he had come loose, his usually tense demeanor relaxed and warm. He complimented your outfit quite thoughtfully too.

You wondered if Sirius would like it too.

"Did you hear me Y/N?" You blinked, fuck.

"Merlin no, I'm sorry Jacob I got distracted," he lightly chuckled at the apologetic twist in your face "The frills y'know?" you said with a circular motion of your hand. The boy couldn't help but laugh.

"I was just asking if you liked your dessert, you've barely touched it" his lips spread into a small smile as you glanced at the abandoned oversugared pastry sitting in front of you. It wasn't bad, but much like this place, the cloying taste was sticking to your gums.

"No, I did! But maybe we should've shared it I feel like I'm going to go into a diabetic coma," you let out a laugh, standing up, prompting him to do the same. "Do you want to maybe go for a walk?"

His lips split into a wide smile as he dropped the change of galleons onto the table.

"You're a blessing, let's go,"

Maybe this would go better than you had thought.

-

"So?" James wiggled his eyebrows, throwing a look over his shoulder briefly, catching a certain Slytherin staring from the other side of the hall. Jacob turned as red as the Gryffindor table runner. "How was your date with the shy lad over there?"

James could feel Sirius glaring at him from his spot next to you. He hadn't left your side since you came back, an easy smile on your face much to his dismay. You had come just in time for dinner, meeting the boys as they came down.

"it was really good," a smile broke on your face, your hand still felt warm with the ghost of Jacob's. You couldn't help but contrast this new boy and Sirius. The way he asked to hold your hand, Sirius only ever threw his arm around your shoulders, the way he seemed sincere and upfront with his intentions, the way he complimented you at every turn. Genuinely too, his big brown eyes showing nothing but pure kindness.

You struggled to find a time Sirius had genuinely complimented you. One that wasn't from in between his sheets.

"Well don't just spill it all at once," You couldn't help but roll your eyes at James. Impatient fellow wasn't he?

"Well, he took me to Madam Puddifoot's" a collective groan came out of all the boys' mouths.

"So cheesy-" Peter laughed at the thought,

"He's a bloody wanker if you ask me, reject him while we're ahead," Sirius mumbled as he popped a grape into his mouth, regaining his failing appetite. You shook your head, cheeks tinted red. Of course, Sirius would say that. You couldn't even imagine him in that tea shop, much less even considering that you may have liked it. You couldn't help but frown. Although you had a good time, you secretly wished you were out with Sirius instead. You wished he'd compliment you, you wished he'd open the door for you and ask you your favorite flavor of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor bean. You wished he'd hold your hand, you wished he'd kiss your cheek as you said goodbyes. You wished he liked you enough to be bashful at the thought of asking you out.

You wished Sirius would just ask you out.

"Well, I'll have you know I quite enjoyed it," Sirius suddenly didn't feel hungry again, pushing his plate away. "after the abusively sweet dessert caught up with me, we went for a walk," Remus couldn't help but push the plate of food back in front of Sirius, giving him a pointed look.

"We talked a whole lot, he asked me stuff I don't think anyone has ever asked about me before like really detailed stuff," you couldn't help but pause as you thought about it, his interest in the things you liked, your favorite quidditch team, what you thought of your divination class.

"He asked to hold my hand-"

"Who the hell does that?" you failed to notice the kick James sent into Sirius's shins. He kicked back.

"I just haven't had a good time like that in a while, he was so genuine" James and Peter smiled widely, Remus slowly breaking into a smile as well as they all stared at your face. It was obvious you were happy, the way you hadn't stopped repressing a smile, the small bite of your lip as you thought about it more.

James wasn't going to let Sirius ruin it. As Sirius opened his mouth to speak James stepped on his foot as hard as he could.

"We are all very happy it went well," Sirius let out through the pain, and immediately James took back his foot.

"Thanks, Black," you hadn't called him that in ages. Sirius felt his heart clench, as well as his throat. He'd prefer if James stepped on him again.

You didn't last much longer at the Great Hall, waving them goodbye as you went up with Lily and Mary, spilling all the details to them as well.

"You're the bloody wanker Padfoot," James hissed, Sirius rolled his eyes as he pushed his plate of food away. Remus rolled his eyes too. It was like they were taking care of a child at this point.

Sirius stayed quiet, as he rested his cheek on his hand. Eyes looking for the blond on the far side of the Great Hall. He still didn't know which house to look in.

"Don't do anything to the poor boy" Remus frowned, Sirius always had something to bite back with. Always some quip, some remark. But he stayed silent.

Sirius stared blankly at Remus. He didn't know why. But the truth was that he wanted to beat the boy to a pulp. He didn't have a reason. You weren't his, he made sure of that. The kilometer-long distance he put between you and his heart. He didn't have any reason to be jealous, it wasn't his place. There had to be something wrong with the guy.

When he broke your heart you'd run back to Sirius.

-

Sirius didn't care. He didn't care that he could hear your giggles from the other side of the potions classroom as you helped the blond boy. He didn't care that you had disappeared the last two weekends to hang out with him. He heard from Remus you were trying to teach him how to fly. Imbecile.

He didn't care that he hadn't kissed you in two and a half weeks. Not since the day the boy had asked you out. Sirius Black was perfectly fine and did not at all care that you ran to hug Jacob after your latest victory. The boy had been waiting for you at the changing room's door even if it had been a win against his own house. Leaving Sirius standing in the middle of the pitch, being dragged inside by James. Sirius didn't care that you were missing from the victory party thrown later that night. He saw your names floating together on the map, they mocked him as he tried to swallow the knot at his throat. The rest of the night felt like a blur, like the entire world flew around him and he remained still.

In the two weeks since the date, you had drifted so far from his grasp. He missed the smell of your hair, you always smelled vaguely of vanilla. It was spicy and intoxicating and he could never get enough of it. He missed your laughter when he made some stupid joke. He missed having you in his arms. He missed how soft and supple your skin was. He missed the way your lips would curl up in a smirk when he said something vaguely snarky, or when they roped you into some scheme that would definitely land the lot of you in detention. The way you rambled on about constellations and everything else that crossed your mind when you sat at the top of the astronomy tower. The way you would rip away the occasional cigarette from his mouth, talking about these not being the muggle habits he should be picking up, you'd always take a quick drag before putting it out.

He didn't care that he felt a pit at the bottom of his stomach for two weeks.

"Do you think he'll ask me to be his girlfriend?" you felt juvenile even asking, your words had been barely a whisper, they hung heavy in the common room as Lily, Alice, and Frank as well as the marauders all lounged around. It was fairly late, so the place lay otherwise empty. Your arms hugged your legs as you sat in the far corner of the couch, staring directly into the fire not wanting to see anyone's face. You usually were overjoyed at spending time like this, with all of your friends. Alice and Frank's relationship had brought the girls closer to the marauders as Frank was already a close friend. You no longer had to divide your time between your friends and James got to be around Lily.

James was delighted, of course, patting Frank's back with an I knew we were friends for a reason Frankie dear, the first time the girls stuck around to hang out.

But you had felt a tension lately, even with Lily and the rest of the girls. Like they were hesitant about your blooming relationship. Like they all knew something you didn't. Like they were waiting for some other shoe to drop. The smiles Lily shot your way as you talked about the boy and how well he treated you, were the same type of smile she used to give Marlene when she was delusional about some girl last term and didn't have the heart to tell her. James looked at you like you might break any minute, nervous to speak about your romantic affair. Sirius was completely avoiding you. You were scared you were reading too much into the compliments, into the attention you were receiving.

The tension came to a close when James spoke, his body was taking up 90% of the couch you were on, and he lay on his side. You knew his eyes stared into Lily's curled form. His foot poked yours as he spoke lowly,

"What makes you think he wouldn't?"

"Well-"

"None of that," Alice spoke up from Frank's arms on the opposite couch. He slowly fed jellybeans into her mouth as she spoke, the varying flavors making her face scrunch up every so often. "you're so lovely, and if he can't see that and commit then I'll blast him to hell myself," Lily hummed in agreement from her spot on one of the armchairs, sleep tugging at her eyelids.

"Cheers to that," Sirius spoke from his spot on the carpet, spread like a starfish in front of the fire. James wanted to kick his head in the fire. Sirius would probably welcome it at this point. He felt a knot form in his throat at your words.

Peter snored from the armchair next to Lily's.

"There's no reason to think he won't Y/N," Remus said softly from his spot also on the floor, his back resting on the front of the sofa seat, directly in front of you. You carded your fingers through his hair, and he shot you a small smile. You felt pathetic. You stared into the fire.

It wasn't as if Jacob hadn't been clear. He was really into you, and every second that he was free he'd find an excuse to be around you. Even when his housemates looked at him like he was mad. You felt a swirl of emotions clawing at your throat, almost to the point that you couldn't breathe. You wondered what Sirius thought. You hadn't talked in so long.

You almost felt bad at taking every ounce of attention Jacob gave you, you felt terrible. Like you were using him. Godric were you using him?

Were you using this poor boy to get over Sirius?

No! you liked him, he was kind and he never smirked nor got under your skin. He didn't laugh at you or drive you up the wall with his winks and smirks. He was nice and kind. He was kind yes. Probably what you liked best, one of his best qualities. And let's not forget how agreeable his face was, his strong features and dirty blond hair. And his parents were Americans! You didn't hear that often…

You thought back to December. When Sirius read to you in French, with your head on his chest and his fingers running through your hair. The grounds had been covered in white, cold seeping in through the windows. The words on the page, although foreign to you, rolled off his tongue with ease. Sirius had joked that this would be your Christmas present. He chuckled as you covered your face when he took out a little red box from his bedside table.

You fiddled with the thin golden bracelet he gave you that Christmas.

You felt like you were fighting back tears.

-

"Thought you'd be in love and giggling on some corner of the castle," Your feet dangled from the top of the astronomy tower, and although the security of the metal bars made sure you weren't going to fall, the lack of ground under your feet made you feel at the mercy of the air. Your fingerless gloves did little to stop the biting cold and your fingertips looked pale but you moved them nevertheless, taking the lit cigarette out of your mouth. Your large jacket and the sweater you had stolen from their dorm helped a bit, but you had sat unmoving for a good thirty minutes. You briefly thought of a professor finding you frozen in place the next morning. "I also remember you saying we shouldn't be picking these habits up hm?"

Sirius sat on the floor next to you, feet also dangling through the metal bars. His own jacket was zipped up to the top and the black leather material shone under the light of the moon. This was a different jacket from the one he used when he rode around on his stupid muggle motorbike. It was big and the leather looked soft and worn. His pajama bottoms couldn't be providing him with enough heat though… That wasn't really your problem, was it?

He took the cigarette from your fingers taking a drag.

"Not like you ever listen to me Black,"

"I hate it when you call me that," Sirius passed it back to you, his voice low. The cloud emanating from your lips turned and mixed with Sirius's in front of you. The crescent moon highlighted the swirls of smoke dancing in the air.

"And I hate smoking-"

"Then why are we here?" He hummed as he took the cigarette from you, taking another drag and putting it out on the side of the tower.

"Why are you here?" for the first time since he had arrived you turned to look at him. He did not turn to look back. His side profile was enviable. His defined nose, the plump lips, the way his pearly pale skin contrasted against his coal black hair. It was shorter than usual. His mom had maimed his hair during the two days he passed in his household during Christmas. He was trying desperately to grow it out again. The moon seemed to make him almost black and white. It was like watching a monochromatic film, and you were hooked on it.

You thought of the brown tinge his hair had during the summer months.

"Get bored of the blond yet?" you scoffed, taking out the pack of Player's No 6 cigarettes from your jacket pocket.

"He has a name, not that it matters to you" The ribs of the wheel on the lighter scratched at your thumb as you flicked it quickly, but the flickering warmth made your thumb feel like it was finally shedding a layer of ice. You lit your second cigarette of the night.

You really did hate smoking. You didn't answer his question.

Sirius moved his hand to take the cigarette from your mouth, as you let out the smoke. You moved his hand away, offering the pack instead.

He took the container in his hand and chucked it through the air. You watched with wide eyes as it disappeared through the air, the shadow of night covering whatever hint of where they may have landed. He took the cigarette from your lips and took a drag.

"What is up your ass Black?" you snarled at him, you felt your lips quiver as he finally looked at you one of his insufferable smirks on his face.

"You shouldn't be smoking love, it ain't good for ya," he took another drag and offered you the cigarette once again.

You felt like you were going to blow a fuse. You brought your legs back from the brink, tucking them in and using the bars as leverage to swing yourself up. Your fingers clutched the lighter in your pocket tightly. Sirius stared at the spot you had been sitting at.

"You're such a prick Sirius Black," he finally turned to look at you "You can never let me be happy, you won't even let me have my cigarettes,"

"come on love-" you scoffed, you could feel the hot tears welling up in your eyes.

"Dont 'love' me, you're so selfish" You could see his jaw clench, his chest rising as he took a deep breath in surprise. "go find yourself someone else to satisfy your needs, you will not keep me in this vicious loop any longer,"

You made to leave but turned back "His name is Jacob by the way, and I am not in love with him but he doesn't make me cry Sirius," he could see the trail of tears down your cheeks, the glow of the moon reflecting off of them. It was like you were crying starlight. He had never hated his name falling from your lips more than he did this moment.

"And that's all you do," he felt the bile crawling up his throat,

"You make me cry."

[querenciasturniolo]

chris or matt x fem!reader please !!! i legitimately cannot choose between them for my life so you can choose :) maybe reader’s also like an influencer and they have this secret sort of relationship for a while and its all super fluffy, but fans are already starting to speculate that they’re together and stuff, and then at the end they finally go public with a hard launch and/or live and everyone in the comments ( or chat if it’s a live ) is going FERAL

p.s. also i’ve loved your works for so long you DO NOT UNDERSTAND and i’ve finally gathered up the courage to send in a message even tho it’s sent in with a request !

hard launch ⮕ m.s.

word count: 911

warnings: swearing

summary: request

a/n: STOP YOU’RE SO SWEET 😭 please don’t be scared of me, i promise i don’t bite HAHAHA, ily are you kidding me 🫶🏻😭 also this was so fucking cute, i’m obsessed fr

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

Watching Matt stream always had your heart stuttering in your chest.

The theme for Hogwarts Legacy was playing as he was adjusting his camera, your eyes watching him closely and trying to fight the smile stretching across your face. You were sure the viewers could see you staring, considering you were sitting in the chair directly next to him, on camera. His eyes dropped from the screen as he grabbed his controller.

“Alright guys, so, we’re playing Hogwarts Legacy tonight, but I have a special guest with me, as you all can see.” He turned his head and met your eyes, his own smile growing and his cheeks tingeing pink as he caught you already staring. Introduce yourself, he mouthed. You turned to face the camera, grinning wider than before as your eyes scanned over the chat.

“Hey guys, I’m the guest, obviously. My name is Y/n.” You said.

did anyone else see the way she was staring at matt ? they’re in love, confirmed

she’s so real, i’d be staring too

i can’t even handle this, she’s so cute

“Basically, Y/n’s going to play while I tell her what to do. She’s never held a controller in her life.” Matt teased, his eyes flickering between the screen and the chat as you pressed the button to start the game.

“Wait, I have to create a whole character?” You asked, glancing over at Matt as he placed the headset over your ears. He chuckled and nodded.

“Yes, you have to create a whole character, is that not what you were expecting when you begged me to play this game?” He teased. You rolled your eyes and adjusted the headset, making sure the ear that was on his side was exposed so you could hear him.

“This is ridiculous, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me I had to create an entire chara—oh my God I can have pink hair, I take it back.” You rambled, scrambling through the hair colors. Matt’s laugh next to you had you grinning as your eyes flickered between the screen and the chat.

this banter is only proving my point that they’re in love

i’m so glad she’s streaming with him this is so funny

has anyone else noticed that matt hasn’t looked at the screen once

You glanced over at Matt, meeting his eyes immediately. You couldn’t help but mirror his smile as you shook your head and faced the screen again. You created your character, groaning when you realized you had to go through a thousand cut scenes, even though you were thrilled to be playing this game.

“I never understood why you can’t see those weird horse things until that dude gets eaten by the dragon.” Matt said, catching your attention enough for you to glance at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw. You sighed through your nose and shook your head.

“I forgot, you’re a fake fan.” You said, interrupting him before he could fire back. “They’re thestrals, you can only see them if you’ve witnessed death, but they’re always there.” You explained, Matt furrowing his eyebrows as you faced the screen again.

y/n being a harry potter fan was not on my docket, but i’m not complaining

her humbling matt has got to be the funniest fucking thing i’ve ever seen in my life

i love this

The entire time you were going through the beginning quests, you and Matt had bickered back and forth, your smile wide with each comeback you shot at him. It wasn’t until a knock on Matt’s door that the two of you stopped talking. You paused the game, but Matt scoffed and unpaused it.

“You keep playing.” He demanded playfully, your own scoff leaving your lips as you shook your head and continued. Chris peeked his head into the door.

“Food’s here, just thought you guys should know.” He said, Matt nodding his head. Chris left the room, and Matt turned to you.

“I’ll go get it.” He said, standing from the chair as you turned to face him. Before you could process it, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours firmly and turned to leave the room. You smiled and shook your head before facing the screen and realizing what just happened.

oh mY GOD I FUCKING KNEW IT

DID ANYONE ELSE SEE THAT ??????

WHAT IS GOING ON MATT JUST KISSED HER ON FUCKING STREAM

You ignored the chat, trying to play it off and completely move past what happened, thinking that Matt did it on instinct. Chats were flying in at such a rapid pace that it felt as though everything on the screen was lagging. It was completely screwing up how you were playing, not only your racing heart and shaking hands on the controller.

You completely short circuited, having no idea what to do as Matt walked back into his room. He was laughing at something Chris had said as he sat down next to you and glanced over at the chat.

“Oh.”

You looked over at him and raised your eyebrows, your skin on fire as you watched his eyes scan over the rapid chats flying in at once.

“Yeah.” You said, Matt finally meeting your eyes with pink cheeks. He smiled and shrugged his shoulders, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your nose before he sat back and grinned widely.

“I guess that was one hell of a hard launch, huh?”

tags: @strniolo , @ssturniolo , @thetriplets3 , @stvrni0lo , @gabbylovesreading , @dwntwn-strnlo , @tylerscreat0r , @toyourloves , @lvrsparadise , @angelcake-222 , @20nugs , @obsessivencrazy , @lollibumblebee , @stargirlv0id , @jellybeanbby , @idontexistman , @emssturniolo , @soursturniolo , @bernardenjoyer , @mxqdii , @leah-loves-lilies , @mattsnutsack , @champangekisses , @floofparker , @lovelysturniolo

[birdiewritessometimes]

hii looooved the mattheo riddle fic any chance u cld plsssss do more bc i’m obsessed. like mattheo riddle x harry’s twin sister or smth would EAT

All His

A/N: Hi anon! Thank you so much for reading and liking my mattheo fic <3 thank you so much for this request, i hope you liked it <3

I used some promts for this writing, one was from @thepromptswhisperer 's "you're blushing" promts and the others were from @stormyskies-writes 's spicy romance promts. These really helped me with the banter for this story and these two have really good prompts if yall might need/want some prompts for your own stories <3

Also, i'm sorry Mattheo isn't as soft in this one, i tried something different and i hope you like it. I will probably write more of soft!matty because he is a cutie.

Also, also, I'm sorry for any mistakes i might have made, I usually come back to my stories a couple of days later with fresh eyes hihi <3

Also request something if you want to!

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Potter!reader

Themes/warnings: Cursing, slight suggestive, slight enemies to lovers but not really, bickering, so much bickering, McLaggen (he's a warning in himself really)

Word count: 4000 - ish

Please do not copy or translate my work!

It has been about a month since the school year started at Hogwarts. It was colder, leaves changing colour for green to yellow to orange. The familiar cold breeze sweeping through the castle, signalling that autumn really was here. Thankfully there were fires scattered around the castle to keep its inhabitants warm. You were sitting by one of these fires in the library. Its flames effectively warming you from the cold that was seeping through the stonewalls. You were working on an essay for your defence against the dark arts class. It was about sirens. You found the subject intriguing, aquatic life had always interested you, but you couldn’t for the life of you concentrate on your work. Your brother and his friend had joined you and Hermione but instead of studying they were glaring and huffing at a table all the way across the library. The table in question were occupied by a group of Slytherin boys notorious for picking fights with Harry and Ron. At what seemed like their hundred huff you lost your calm, feeling extremely annoyed by their disruptions.

“Really, boys just study instead of making googly eyes at the Slytherins.” You said with an eyeroll. “Or at least shut up.” You snapped. Harry rolled his eyes at your attitude, he was quite used to your attitude, having the privilege to grow up with it since he was your twin.

“We weren’t-” Ron started to defend himself, but you interrupted.

“I must admit, Mattheo is quite cute under all that annoying personality,” You sighed as you cast a glance at the brunette that was chatting casually to his friends, he was a picture of relaxed arrogance as he leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head, “but I didn’t think he was your type.” Harry made a face of disgust at your admission which you replied with a glare.

“Y/n, you can’t be serious? Riddle?” Harry said with that disgust distinguishable in his voice.

“I didn’t say I wanted his babies now did I, Harry?” You rolled your eyes at your brother.

“I don’t care who wants whose babies, just shut up.” Hermione hissed annoyed before she turned back to her own essay. You and Harry sent glares at each other, those types of glares only siblings seemed to be able to muster. Turning back to your essay you read through it. You noticed that you could add some facts to the last part of your text. To do that you needed a new book: An advanced guide to aquatic dangers. With a sigh you rose from your, the wooden chair creaking at your movement.

“Oi, where are you going?” Ron asked, accusingly, almost like he thought you were going over to the Slytherins. He eyed you suspiciously, making you roll your eyes for the umpteenth time.

“Relax Ron, I’m just going to get another book.” You said with a tired voice. You walked slowly through the old library, wooden floorboards creaking under your shoes as you browsed the shelves that held the books on water-beings. There was an unbelievable number of books on the subject, but you needed just one. Searching what you thought was your 50th bookshelf you finally found the book you were looking for. It was in a hidden corner near the table of boys your brother and friend had glared at moments earlier. As you reached for it you noticed that it was placed higher than you thought. You tried to reach it a couple of times to no avail. As you let out a groan of frustration a hand shot out from behind you, easily grabbing it. Another hand was braced on the shelf in front of you. It was adorned by two silver rings, one on the index with a serpent on it, and the other was a signet ring on the pinkie with the initials M.R. You swallowed quickly before turning around, coming face to, well, chest with the Slytherin you just referred to as ‘cute’. He still had the book in his hand, a smirk on his face and he leaned into the hand on the shelf, effectively invading you personal space even more. His presence wrapping around you like a warm blanket shielding you from the coldness of the castle.

“Reading up on your ancestry, Potter?” He asked with a smirk as he gestured to the sketched siren on the cover of the book. You narrowed your eyes at him confused, did he just complement you or insult you?

“Are you insulting me or complementing me, Riddle?” You couldn’t help but ask, your eyes still scanning him suspiciously.

“Isn’t that the same thing for you?” He answered, a cheeky grin on his face, “Hateful comments seem to be the way to your heart, Potter.” You sighed and rolled your eyes at the boy, was he always this annoying? You couldn’t believe you’d just called him cute. You wished you could take it back. Mattheo was quite the flirt with the girls of the school, but his latest target seemed to be you. It didn’t seem like it mattered what you threw back at him, he would always turn it into some weird way of flirting.

“Thinking of how much you want kiss me, Potter?” He interrupted your train of thought with a smirk, leaning in closer into your space, you could smell him now, he smelled good rich, but you would never admit that out loud.

“In your dreams, Riddle.” You huffed in feign annoyance, you would never admit it, but you quite enjoyed the back and forth between the two of you. If he wasn’t known for being a ladies man you might’ve considered going out with him, regardless of what your brother thought of him. It wasn’t a secret that Harry and Mattheo didn’t like each other. This was also a reason why you couldn’t figure out for the life of you why he had set his sights on you.

“Oh, trust me darling, in my dreams we do way more that just kiss.” He said while wiggling his eyebrows at you with a suggestive grin. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks in embarrassment from his insinuation.

“You’re blushing.” He said as he poked your cheek with a chuckle.

“Yeah, so? Never seen anyone fall for your charm before?” You asked sarcastically, rolling your eyes for good measure. He chuckled at that and handed you the book he was still holding.

“Always a pleasure, Potter.” He said, finally stepping away from you, cold air engulfed you when he pulled away, his hand falling to his side.

“I wish I could say the same, but I don’t think you’re capable of making a woman feel pleasure.” You said, you gave the boy a wink before turning on your heel, walking back to your table. You could feel your heart calming down as you neared your table as you weaved in and out of shelves on your way back. Sitting down on the uncomfortable wooden chair you gently placed the book on the table.

“What the hell took you so long?” Harry asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“The book was just hard to find.” You said swiftly, you dared to cast a quick glance at the table across the library. He was already staring at you, his gaze was tracing your form, something alike hunger behind his eyes. You quickly looked away, not wanting to be caught staring by Harry or Ron. The rest of the evening you glanced over at him now and then. He was already looking at you every time. The look on his face unreadable but his eyes still had that hungry look. As the autumn weather really made its home on the grounds the lessons progressed. You had scored an ‘outstanding’ on your essay by Professor Snape. You were thinking about it late one evening around two weeks after your study session in the library.

You couldn’t sleep, which is how you ended up in the kitchens, a mug of warm milk in your hands. You were glad that it was a weekend, meaning that you didn’t have to be up early for classes. Your mind drifted from your grade on your essay to the boy who had helped you reach the book which had helped you. He continued to shamelessly flirt with you, ignoring your brothers warnings to stay away from you. You had to admit, his flirting was charming, in its own way. You had no idea how he pulled off half the stunts he did, like how he managed to get your favourite flowers on your bedside table. First of all, how did he know which flowers were your favourite? Second of all, how did he get them into your dorm? Or all the times you would find your favourite candy in your pockets or bag with a small note with his initials. You would lie if you said it didn’t work on you though. The banter whenever you would talk in combination with these sweet gestures really was the way to your heart and you had no idea how he had figured it out. When you had finished your milk, you thanked the houselves and started to make your way up the stairs that led from the kitchen corridor. Rounding a corner you slammed into a chest. Panicking, thinking it was a teacher, you started to utter out apologies and excuses as to why you were out of bed.

“Shut up, Potter or we will be caught!” A voice you so clearly recognised whisper shouted. Looking up you saw none other than Mattheo Riddle, the boy who was occupying your mind more often than not nowadays. Before you could retort you heard footsteps echo through the hall, nearing where the two of you were.

“Shit.” You whispered in unison. Realising where in the castle you were you grabbed Mattheo by the collar and dragged him in to a broom closet that was hidden right by the entrance to the stairs that led to the kitchens. The closet was small, the space felt cramped as you were standing chest to chest with Mattheo, your hands still gripping his collar. You stared up at Mattheo, eyes wide in fear of getting caught out of bed. Seeing your fear, he placed a hand on your cheek, rubbing your cheekbone slightly, in an attempt to comfort you. It did the exact opposite. Your heart was racing, not from the fear of getting caught, but from the way he was touching you. His hand was warm, his palm rough from quidditch but his touch gentle. You looked at him, really looked at him, his brown eyes soft, his curls sightly messy. You couldn’t help yourself as you shamelessly checked him out. He was looking at you now and it felt like the room got even smaller as a small smirk made its way onto his lips. You were so close, his body pressing against yours, his warmth surrounding you like a blanket. You were so close that your faces were centimetres apart.

“You like what you see?” He whispered, his breath hitting your face. Your brain couldn’t process what was happening right now. He let out a quiet, breathy laugh at your inability to answer him. When he quieted the tension flooded right back. His eyes traced your face, flickering to your lips for a split second before finding your wide eyes again.

“Is it weird that I really want to kiss you right now?” He murmured as his eyes found your lips again for a split second. Your mind went completely blank. All you knew is that you wanted him, needed him to kiss you.

“But I won’t, not until you ask me to.” He smirked before quietly opening the door to the closet. No footsteps could be heard. Cold air welled in, effectively breaking the trance he had you in. You frowned at him. He slipped out of the closet, and you sneaked out after him. You felt anger rise in you chest as you watched the back of his curly mop of hair descend the stone stairs to the kitchens.

“Fuck you, Mattheo.” You whisper shouted. You heard a chuckle from the stairs.

“Fuck me yourself, you coward.” He whispered back making you gape in the general direction of his voice in disbelief. You huffed in annoyance before turning around, sneaking your way back to your common room. The whole way back you thought about how soft his lips had looked and how angry you were with yourself for falling for his charms so easily. After this incident something shifted between you. The usual banter was mixed with something more, a longing, from the both of you. Insults was mixed with tones of want. He would also find ways to touch you more often after the incident in the broom closet. One thing you noticed in the middle of December was that he had not so much as looked at another girl while he was flirting with you. Hermione was even pointing it out. Saying that a few girls had tried to get with him but that he had ignored them completely. It was a beautiful snowy but cold day, and you had just been invited to Slughorn’s Christmas party, along with your brother and Hermione. You noticed that the grounds were covered in glittering white snow as you and Hermione were discussing who to go with on your way to ancient runes. You walked past Mattheo; him and his friends were also part of the so-called Slug club. You watched him as he laughed at something that his friend Theodore said. He really was gorgeous.

“I am going with Terry Boot, as friends, you should go with Harry, Hermione.” You said to Hermione when you had passed the boys.

“Oh, why didn’t I think of that?” She let out as she slapped her forehead in annoyance with herself.

“Are you going with someone else?” You asked amusedly. Hermione reddened, clearly embarrassed with her choice of date.

“Well, I was thinking about who would piss of Ron the most so I kind of asked Cormac.” She said as you let out a laugh. Hermione and Ron were having a rough time with each other at the moment, mostly because Ron was acting like an ass. She slapped your arm in annoyance.

“It’s not funny!” She said with a frown.

“It kind of is, Hermione.” You said, still chuckling.

“Well, I’m surprised that you didn’t go with Riddle.” She retorted.

“Why?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Because it’s obvious that you like each other.” She shrugged her shoulders as you walked into the classroom and sat down in your seat.

“We do not!” You said incredulously. She gave you a look of disbelief before bringing out her book and some parchment to write notes. Through the lesson Mattheo occupied your mind like he usually did nowadays. He was attractive, and sweet and he seemed to have changed his ways with girls. You were occupied by these thoughts even when you walked through the castle corridors to the great hall with Hermione after the lesson had finished. She was going on about how interesting the lesson was with you barley listening. When you were in the entrance hall you bumped your shoulder into someone and just as you were about to apologise you saw that it was none other than the boy who were occupying your mind.

“Stop daydreaming about me and watch where you’re going, love.” He said with a cheeky wink. Snapping out of your dazed state you narrowed your eyes at him, but not as sharply as you usually did.

“Please, any dream involving you would be a nightmare.” You rolled your eyes; you heard a chuckle from Mattheo’s friend Theodore. Mattheo sent a glare at his friend before turning back to you, that made you smile slightly.

“I heard you were going to Slughorn’s party with Terry Boot.” He stated casually. You eyed him suspiciously.

“Why? You jealous, Riddle?” You taunted him with a smirk on your face. He scoffed.

“Of him having to hold your sweaty hand? No, I think I’m fine.” He stated nonchalantly, you rolled your eyes at him.

“Oh, shut up.” You said, annoyance in your voice.

“You shut up.” He said back, getting closer to your face.

“Make me.” You retorted, staring him directly in his eyes.

“Okay, but you might moan a little.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders as he backed off slightly. You gaped at him. The audacity. His friends chuckled and he gave you a cheeky grin before casually sauntering off with his friends.

“You were saying something about not liking each other?” Hermione said, effectively rubbing salt in your wounds.

“Not a word.” You said grumpily as you made your way to the great hall in silence. The evening of the party arrived sooner than you thought. You were walking arm in arm with Terry. You wore a nice dress for the occasion, one that was accentuating your curves. Terry looked nice too in a suit and bowtie. When you entered the party, it was in full swing, people mingling and eating the finger food that was offered. You and Terry took the drink that was offered upon your arrival and went around and mingled with people. You looked around the beautifully decorated room, it was perfectly decorated for Christmas. Your eyes landed on a group of guys, Mattheo and his friends. You noticed that he didn’t seem to have a date. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. You were sure he would bring someone. Your eyes drifted to Cormac, alone, seeming to look for someone. You excused yourself to Terry. He let you go without any hesitation, continuing to talk with some other Ravenclaw boy. You looked around and saw two familiar silhouettes behind a sheer curtain. When you walked over you found Hermione hiding there with Harry, panic evident in his eyes.

“What’s going on?” You asked your brother as you saw Hermione stuffing her mouth with the dragon ball tarte. You scrunched your nose at this, since it was notorious to make your breath stink.

“Hermione is trying to ward of McLaggen.” Harry said with a laugh at the girl who was clearly suffering. You gave the girl a look of sympathy.

“Oh, here he comes.” Hermione said, panic in her voice, as she quickly escaped out the other side of the curtain, Harry hot on her heels. Leaving you alone to fend of the sleazy boy.

“Where did she go?” Cormac asked.

“To the ladies room.” You swiftly lied. You gave him a small, polite smile before you tried to pass him to rejoin the party. He stopped you by grabbing your upper arm rather harshly.

“Well, she is a real minx, your friend. But seeing as we’re here, alone, we might as well.” He said, a greasy smile on his face. You frowned at him, but you were gagging on the inside. You tried to yank your arm free from his grip, but he didn’t let go. You were about to tell him to let you go when someone else got before you.

“Get your hands off her.” A cold voice came from behind Cormac. You looked over his shoulder and you saw none other than Mattheo Riddle standing there, face stoic apart from the muscle that was popping from his jaw. He looked deadly. Cormac’s grip faltered but he didn’t let go.

“Look man-” He started, but Mattheo didn’t let him finish.

“There is nothing you could say that won’t make me break your face if you don’t get your slimy hand off of her in the next 2 seconds.” Mattheo got out through gritted teeth. Seeing Mattheo so angry made you feel some type of way. Cormac let you go slowly, his face pale as he excused himself. He knew better than to mess with the beater of the Slytherin team. The boy notorious for fighting anyone who pissed him off without a second thought. Your eyes met Mattheo’s under the low lights as he took slow steps towards you. He was handsome in his suit, the top buttons of his dress shirt unbuttoned. His face was still cold as he stopped in front of you. His hand moved to gently touch your arm, where Cormac had gripped it rather harshly. His rings were cool against your hot skin, sending shivers down your spine. The way he was looking at you made you feel hot. He closed his eyes as he forced a breath through his nose.

“Are you okay?” You asked him in a low voice. His eyes shot open as he studied your face.

“I should be the one asking that, but I’m fine.” He let out tensely. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You’re not.” You stated as a matter of fact.

“I am.” He was still sounding extremely tense.

“That’s not the truth, tell me the truth Mattheo. What were you jealous?” You threw the words out, but when you said them, it dawned on you. Could he have been jealous? His eyes narrowed this time.

“I was not, I just don’t like slimy guys.” He muttered irritably he looked like he would snap any second now.

“You’re such an asshole. If you weren’t jealous, why would you threaten Corm-”

“Okay, fine! I was jealous. I was so jealous that I could rip his throat out for just talking to you, let alone touching you. I was jealous when I saw you walking in with Boot” he spat his name, “because he had the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen as his date” he gestured to you, “I was jealous because whatever I do, I will never be that guy to you. I shouldn’t be jealous, because you aren’t even mine, yet here I am.” He was breathing heavily after he was done with his rant. You were smiling shyly up at him as you took a couple of steps closer to him, invading his personal space. Your hands found the planes of his stomach before they travelled slowly up his chest and around his neck. He let out a low groan at your actions.

“Kiss me, asshole.” You whispered; he closed his eyes at your words. Your mind was immediately brought back to the almost kiss in the broom closet and how sure of himself he sounded when he had said that he wouldn’t kiss you unless you asked.

“The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop.” He murmured back his hands finding your hips, gripping them tightly.

“Maybe I don’t want you to.” You replied simply and it was like all restraint he had in him flew out the window. He smashed his lips to yours. The kiss was desperate, lips and teeth clashing, his tongue fighting with yours as his hands moved from your hips to your waist, giving it a squeeze. Yours found his hair, pulling on the strands on the back of his neck. Eliciting a moan from him. The kiss was far from sweet, but you didn’t want it any other way. It felt like months of feelings and want was poured into the kiss. It was as if he kissed you hard enough you would understand his feelings for you. You kissed him back with just as much fervour, as if you too were trying to convey your feelings through the kiss.

“My eyes!” You heard a shriek from behind you. You and Mattheo broke apart, startled from the sound. Turning around you saw Harry and Hermione standing there. Harry had the most disgusted expression you had ever seen, and Hermione looked awfully smug.

“Really y/n? Riddle?” Harry said in an annoyed voice to which you rolled your eyes.

“Shut up Harry, go away.” You said, annoyance in your own voice, Hermione didn’t say anything as she slowly pulled Harry away, but she still had that smug smile on her face. You turned back to Mattheo, who had your lipstick all over his lips, and he was looking at you with a look you’ve never seen before. His eyes were soft, tender, a small smirk was on his lips. The look made you feel weak in the knees. With your heart hammering you snaked your arms around his neck again.

“You can be as jealous as you want, asshole, because I’m yours.” You whispered, your eyes finding his. His smile widened as he took one of your hands of his neck and took it in his. He took off his signet ring, where his initials were carved, and put it on your index finger.

“There, all mine.” He said softly before kissing you again, softer this time. His lips were gentle against yours, his hands tracing your back as yours raked through his hair.

“All yours.” You murmured against his lips, to which he groaned.

“I could listen to you saying that all night.” He said, his voice sounding strained, and he parted from you a little, needing to collect himself. You were still at Slughorn’s party after all.

“If you play your cards right maybe you will.” You said seductively as you pulled him back to you by his belt. He groaned, which he covered up by coughing when a teacher walked by on the other side of the curtain. You giggled at this.

“Well, handsome, I’m going to rejoin my date for the party.” You said, a teasing smile on your face. He looked at you bewildered.

“I might be yours now, but I wasn’t when I agreed to be Terry’s date for tonight.” You said a teasing note in your voice.

“I’ll see you tonight.” You whispered into his ear before placing a kiss to his cheek and slipping out the curtain. It would be a long night.

[lordprettyflackotara]

party monster || fred weasley

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+. TW: partying, drug usage (cocaine guys), fred’s ooc sorry not sorry, paranoia, etc. just overall v mature themes. OBVIOUSLY DO NOT DO COCAINE. this has a lot of plot ;)

Fred Weasley was never one to turn down an invitation to a party. Especially not one from Mattheo Riddle, to a Slytherin party.

Fred had felt like he had seen it all. He had watched the Hufflepuffs get giggly over champagne, Gryffindors try muggle grass for the first time, and Ravenclaws make tame mixed drinks that sent their minds into oblivion.

Slytherin’s on the other hand, went as hard as Fred liked. Of course muggle grass and alcohol was provided. The usual sex addicts were on the prowl for someone new to warm their bed. But what Fred enjoyed about the Slytherins the most, was their lack of fear to try muggle substances.

The most recent substance the most fearless had been trying was cocaine.

George refused to attend Slytherin parties, frowning upon the houses entirety. Truthfully Fred used to be the same way, until Mattheo offered him his first joint. The dark lords son had introduced him to an entire new world of highs, ones that Fred couldn’t find anywhere else.

For the past year the core Slytherins had been trying different pills, ones Theodore had been smuggling from a muggle born Hufflepuff who was naive enough to think they were being used for medical purposes. Fred had been to enough of these parties to where no one questioned his presence. If anything, he was often greeted and offered a cigarette at the very least.

It was highly unusual for other houses to venture into the Slytherins events, old superstitions still highly believed in. Fred would’ve been the same way, if it weren’t for Mattheo. It was an unlikely friendship, one no one could understand. Not George, Not Draco, no one. The ginger scanned the room, excited to find his friend. Word on the street about cocaine being smuggled into Hogwarts was spreading like wildfire. Fred knew he had to be one of the first ones to try it.

Strolling up confidently to the couch Mattheo always sat, the ginger waved. One of Penelope Clearwaters friends sat in Mattheo’s lap, her blue uniform making her stick out like a sore thumb. Mattheo grinned at the sight of Fred, gently pushing the girl away from sucking more hickies onto his neck. “Why don’t you go take a few shots with Pansy and i’ll meet you over there in a second?” He suggested. The girl glanced at Fred, taking the hint and starting her journey of finding Pansy.

Theodore Nott sat on the other side of the couch, a cigarette loosely hanging from his lips. “My favorite Gryffindor, welcome to another rager,” Mattheo chuckled, gesturing to the party that was occurring around them. Fred took a seat beside the brunette, greeting Theodore as well. “So Riddle, what do you have for me? You know I love to try whatever new hits the market,” Fred asked. Mattheo reached into his pocket, holding up a small plastic baggy of white powder.

Fred’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion. Previously he was under the impression that all muggle party substances were in the form of small pills. “That looks like it’s going to taste like shit,” Fred pointed out. A genuine chuckle escaped Mattheo’s lips as he grabbed a small metal tray. “Thats because it does, you don’t swallow it, you snort it,” He explained. Fred watched curiously as he poured the powder onto the tray. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wand.

Mattheo used the tip to slice it into three tiny lines, the small amount only furthering his curiosity. “How many milligrams is that per line?” Fred asked, trying to get a better grasp on the drug in front of him. Once Mattheo made sure the lines looked even, he set his wand aside. “Doesnt work like that. Nott, wanna lead by example?” He asked, gesturing the tray to him.

Theodore didn’t seem to hesitate at all, his nose hovering over one of the lines and inhaling it without a second thought. His lack of hesitance made Fred more confident. “Alright alright let me see what all of this hype is about,” The ginger interjected. Fred was determined to ‘one up’ Theo, the potions master always a bit too cocky for his liking. (Even if he thoroughly enjoyed spending hangovers with him.)

Fred mimicked Theo’s actions, holding one side of his nose as he inhaled the first line. Flames seem to spread through his nostril, the ginger deciding to ignore it and to snort the other line as well. Sharp pain washed over Fred’s senses, the feeling of the powder sliding down the back of his throat making him cough. “Look at that! Atta boy,” Mattheo said encouragingly, patting Fred on the back. As the brunette took a cigarette out of the box Theo gestured to him, he gestured to the party.

“Let’s get out there, shall we?”

Fred had never felt more talkative in his life. From Pansy, to Blaise, to Slytherins he didn’t know, he could not stop talking. Sober, Fred was a very social person. But he knew when to let the conversation fizzle out. But as of right now? That concept didn’t exist. He felt utterly invincible, as if the world itself existed around him for his pleasure and his only. His throat had gone numb, unable to feel the shots he downed repeatedly.

As he was talking to Blaise about his latest prank, his eyes briefly flickered to you. You were mesmerizing, a girl he had never seen before. Fred ensured to keep track of girls in his year, knowing which ones were taken and what not. But you looked to be the same age as him and he had never seen you a day in his life. You stood by the alcohol table, pouring raw tequila down your throat. Without excusing himself Fred left, abandoning his conversation with a way too drunk Blaise.

Fred knew he had to meet you, something about you calling to him. Even as you downed the liquor your hips swayed to the music, your curves intriguing Fred even more. The ginger didn’t feel one ounce of nervousness, the coke having imbedded in his mind. “Hey there, mind if I have a swig?” Fred asked. Your eyes widened at the sight of him, before handing him the bottle. “Thanks,” He said, taking a drink. Fred’s throat was completely numb, the firey liquid not affecting him at all.

He handed the bottle back to you, giving you a sly grin. Your lips were painted a dark red, your beautiful eyes accompanied by flattering dark makeup. The kind Fred could only imagine a Slytherin could pull off. “You have something right here,” You replied, pointing to your upper lip. In a sudden movement you stepped forward, wiping the very top of Fred’s lip. You held up your thumb, the faintest sprinkle of white powder coating the pad of your thumb.

“Thanks, been a wild night. When new muggle stuff comes in it’s always exciting to try it,” Fred said, unscathed by your action. If anything he was into it, thrilled that you were so touchy. “It always is, isn’t it?” You say, taking another swig of the bottle. Fred couldn’t help but grin, thrilled that a girl as hot as you understood his enthusiasm. It was difficult finding another student so adventurous, yet here you stood.

A girl behind you waved at Fred, a friend of Pansy’s. Fred waved back, making a mental note to talk to her later. “So, a lion playing with snakes?” You ask, creating conversation. He hadn’t realized he had just been standing there, his eyes flickering in every direction. Soaking in the party, the music, you, the lights, Pansy’s friend-

“I’m a good friend of Riddle’s, great isn’t he?” Fred said. He gestured to the brunette who was currently dancing on top of a table, his tie loose and hanging around his shoulders. A cigarette hung on his lips, his hips occupied by grinding on the Hufflepuff in front of him. You nodded in agreement, shrugging. After tonight Fred made another mental note to ask Mattheo about you. You were awfully quiet for a Slytherin.

“A real charmer, that’s for sure,” You replied, your words laced with sarcasm. Your eyes flickered to Fred, shooting him a playful smile. “As are you. I see where he learns it from,” You continue, biting your lower lip. Flattery was the gingers weakness, a cocky smile creeping across his lips. “Hey, you wanna get out of here? My dorms gonna be empty. Roommates crashing with one of the boys,” You ask, pointing to the dungeons. Fred knew about the girls rooms being in the dungeons all too well, his visits down there frequent.

“Sure, lead the way little witch,” Fred purred. You grabbed his large hand, your skin cold to the touch. You led him through the hot swaying bodies, your hand gripping his his. As you both approached the staircase to go down further Fred looked over his shoulder, his eyes landing on Mattheo. The brunettes eyebrows were furrowed as he watched him, mouthing a clear question: ‘you good?’

Fred smiled and nodded, shooting him a thumbs up as he followed you down the dungeons. If there was anything Fred knew about Slytherins, without stereotyping them too much, was that they cared about appearances. They kept precise upkeep about their looks, (maybe not including Mattheo), that it teetered towards an unhealthy amount. In Fred’s opinion anyway. He didn’t have to deal with strict parents with pureblood ideologies, so he didn’t feel like he had room to judge.

As you led him further down the staircase he noticed several mirrors in between portraits, for students to use while heading up to the common room. Fred’s focus mainly was on himself, noticing how large his pupils were. You both reached towards the end of the staircase, Fred’s eyes still focused on the mirror. For a split second he squinted, noticing he didn’t see you. His hand was being held in mid air, your fingers not entangled around his palm like he saw before him.

Questioning was on the tip of his tongue, your abrupt words cutting him off. “My dorm is further down and I need you, now,” You say urgently, palming at Fred’s shirt. His eyes flickered to yours, unsure. “Did you see that? You weren’t in the reflection,” Fred asked, completely ignoring your statement. You raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the girls bathroom on the right side of the hall. “You’re paranoid, do you want to fuck or not?” You asked.

Fred shook his head, trying to rationalize with himself. He had a hot witch standing in front of him and he was about to fuck up a one night stand because of some muggle drug. “Absolutely,” Fred agreed, allowing you to lead him into the bathroom. Admittedly this was one place Fred hadn’t been, his knowledge of the room little to none. He was surprised that a velvet green couch sat almost in the center of the room. Would that have been his style choice? Absolutely not. Do witches tend to take their time in the restrooms gossiping? Fred believed so.

Your lips were on him before he could process it, his back hitting the couch. You tasted like raw alcohol, his tastebuds flooded with the sensation as you got on top of him. Fred was typically dominant, but he never minded a Slytherin topping him. You were so confident, tugging your shirt over your heard before reattaching your lips to his. Your touch made Fred want to immediately submit, his cock growing harder by the minute as you straddled him.

“Hard already? Naughty naughty gryffindor,” You teased, biting his bottom lip. Fred groaned, his hands flying to your waist. He guided you to grind against him, his cock growing achingly hard. You kissed down the side of his face to his neck, sucking at his sweet spot. Fred squeezed your thighs, whimpering as your lips littered his skin with marks. You kissed down his clothed chest, all the way down to his aching cock.

You teasingly kissed his hard on, maintaining eye contact as you did so. The ginger bucked his hips towards, throwing his head back as you unbuckled his belt. “If you want me to suck your cock you’re going to have to beg Freddie,” You say, unbuttoning his jeans. Spews of pleas left his lips faster than he would like to admit, “Fuck, please, touch me, please.”

A brief concern of how you knew his name crossed his mind, the worry fading as you shoved his boxers and jeans down his thighs. Fred was decently known, maybe you had known him for an infamous prank or-

His spinning thoughts came to a screeching halt as you took him into your mouth. Fred couldn’t control his noises, you taking control of him and his pleasure one of the hottest things he had ever seen. As you bobbed your head up and down on his cock, Fred chopped up his previous mental ramble to paranoia. Most likely he was coming down from his high, his body adjusting his mind back to normal.

Fred didn’t even know your name, but the moans he was making made it sound like he did. He was pure putty at your hands, willingly and merciless at your disposal. His tip brushed against the back of your throat, expectancy of the sound of gagging ensuing. Except it didn’t. Fred looked down at you in awe, your eyes meeting his. You didn’t have a gag reflex? What kind of magic was this?

He roughly grabbed the back of your head, pushing you down further onto his cock. You took his length with ease, saliva pooling to the base of his shaft. “Merlin, you’re a goddess right? Sent to me from above?” Fred panted, his mind trying to wrap around you. You pulled off of his cock, his hands not affecting your movement. He thought he had applied a decent amount of pressure, even if it was involuntary. What were you? Were you some kind of-

“Maybe, maybe you’re just my personal pet. My babies get the best treatment you know,” You purred. The ginger had no idea what you were rambling about, but what he did know, was that he wanted you to fuck him. “Ride me, fuck, please ride me,” He whined. Most girls would’ve asked for foreplay, head, or something along those lines. But you didn’t ask for either, instead lifting up your skirt and shoving your panties to the side. You guided his tip up and down your drenched folds, the feeling of your warm slick enough to make Fred groan.

He couldn’t understand why he felt so sensitive, his body on cloud nine just from your simple touch. You sank down onto his cock with ease, your walls clenching around him. Fred threw his head back, unable to formulate coherent words as you began to ride him. You seemed unfazed by his size, riding him like you had been doing so for years. Fred was not only unable to speak, but completely and utterly speechless.

You didn’t seem real, his unrealistic expectations for a hookup playing out in front of him. You leaned forward, one hand placed on his throat while the other tugged at his hair. “You like that huh? Feel good Freddie?” You asked. Fred groaned an agreement, his cock brushing against your g spot with every roll of your hips. Most witches would tire out by now, opting to switch positions. Yet you didn’t, your body not seeming to tire as you squeezed at the sides of his throat.

“So good, Merlin, you’re going to be the death of me,” Fred moaned as you licked up the side of his neck. He felt his orgasm approaching, the ginger flustered by the feeling. Was it the coke that was going to make him bust quick? Or was it how well you were riding him? His eyes wondered over your shoulder, landing on a large full length mirror. The presence of the mirror wasn’t surprising, but what was, was your absence. You weren’t present in the reflection, Fred’s head beginning to spin.

“Uh, you’re not in the m-mirror, I-” Fred stuttered, his high approaching faster than he wanted it to. He wanted to go all night with you, but why weren’t you showing up in the mirror? You sat up, your breast bouncing as you continued to ride him.

“You’re being paranoid Freddie, now why don’t you go ahead and cum for me?”

Fred’s hips stuttered as he came inside of your cunt, his head rolling back onto the couch. His ears were ringing, any sounds of you or the party dulling out into nothingness. He began seeing stars, his vision fading out completely. His senses had seemed to given up, Fred’s body unable to sustain itself, passing out.

\/

Fred had woken up a lot of strange places after a party. Most times he woke up beside a witch whose name he didn’t know. Other times he would wake up in random places, one time including the whomping willow. (To this day, no one has any idea how he survived OR got a good nights sleep.) Where Fred had never been woken up before, was in the male Slytherin dorms. Nor, had he ever been violently shaken awake by someone. Faintly he could hear a familiar voice calling out to him, but the words were incoherent.

“Fred! Wake the fuck up!”

He jolted awake, his heart pounding out of his chest as he sat up. Scattered,he looked around, unaware of where he was. His eyes landed on Mattheo and Draco, both of which seemed extremely concerned. “W-what..?” Fred stumbled out. His head was pounding with a rager headache, his body felt drained and spent. “Pansy found you uh-” Draco began, before shooting Mattheo a look that he should speak instead. Mattheo sighed, handing Fred a glass of water.

“She found you in the girls bathroom passed out with your pants pulled down and you uh, came all over yourself,” Mattheo informed him. Fred could feel himself turning red, clutching the water in his hand. His eyes widened in disbelief, becoming dizzy again as he rested his hand on his forehead to keep himself propped up.

“Do you have any idea how you ended up like that dude?” Mattheo asked, keeping his voice even. Bags hung under his eyes, his knee bouncing anxiously. It was rare Fred ever saw Mattheo sober, but he could definitely tell he was. You raced through the gingers mind, embarrassment flooding over him. You weren’t real? None of it was real?

A knock on the door alerted the trio, the Slytherins eyes landing on the new comer. “Well shit I see the party monsters awake,” Theodore said, waltzing in. His confidence made Fred uneasy, his stomach churning. “Do you happen to remember what happened last night?” He asked him, his voice breaking. Theo nodded, taking a seat. “Why don’t you drink some water and i’ll tell you all about it?”

Theo didn’t know Fred well by any means. Sometimes he questioned what Mattheo saw in the ginger, the prankster a bit too full of himself. It was a coincidence he saw him by the alcohol table, talking to himself. At first Theo assumed he was yelling to someone, or even on a muggle phone a lot of Gryffinors used. Cautiously Theo rounded the table, raising his eyebrows as Fred offered the bottle of tequila he had been cuddling to the air in front of him.

The brunette couldn’t believe his eyes, watching dumbfounded as Astoria Greengrass gave him a wave. Briefly his eyes flickered upwards at the Slytherin, before returning to the void in front of him. With a confused expression Theo decided it was none of his business, returning back to Mattheo with new drinks in hand. He figured he was just high, anyways. Unknowingly Mattheo had recommended Fred to Astoria, who was looking for a quick hook up to help her get over her ex.

A dumbfounded Astoria had beat Theo to Mattheo, her lips moving a mile a minute. She was weirded out by Fred’s behavior, the ginger confirmed to be talking to the air. Mattheo’s eyes flickered upwards, watching as Fred was heading towards the stairs. His hand was held out in front of him, a goofy smile spread across his lips. He made eye contact with Mattheo, who managed to communicate through all the noise and ask if he was good.

Fred seemed more than good, excitedly nodding and heading down to the dungeons. It wasn’t until the next morning Pansy came running, trying to get the boys to help her carry Fred before anyone saw him.

As the group sat in Mattheo’s room you watched from the shadows, invisible to everyone around you. You had died from a cocaine overdose in 1970, the curse of your afterlife being that no one could see you. The only time anyone did, was when they had done the drug themselves. You didn’t quite understand the logistics of it, other ghost able to see you, but no being with a beating heart could.

You had been shocked Fred had seen you at the alcohol table, after being used to being unseen for so long. As cocky and mischievous as you knew Fred to be from watching, you liked him. So much so that you knew scaring the ever loving fuck out of him was going to be the only way he would never touch the horrid stuff again. Party monsters like Fred, often times danced on the line between life and death. Their bodies, from what you could understand, would be into overdrive. That crossover allowed him to see you.

You thoroughly enjoyed fucking Fred, even if the ginger now regretted it. And as much as you wished you could see him again, you knew he deserved a better chance at life. “Bloody hell, i’m never touching that stuff again,” Fred groaned, cupping his pounding head. You smiled at his confession, walking up to Draco’s side. You stood beside him, the blonde unaware of your presence. Your mission was complete, Fred would be on a better path now. You smiled to yourself, watching as the ginger lifted his head.

His eyes widened, centered on you.

“What the actual fuck are you doing here?!”

He can see you?

a/n: can yall tell im into plot twist rn? lol. might do a part two if yall want it >:)

[azrielwingspan]

SOON (THEO NOTT X READER)

Summary : Theodore Nott was just another Slytherin asshole to most of Hogwarts. But to you, he was something much much more.

Themes : Mild kissing and swearing.

A/N : This is my first Theo fic AHHH. Just thought I would give it a shot. Let me know how it is!

P.S.- This is strictly a one shot. There will be no part 2.

"He is quite charming isn't he?" Ginny commented sneaking a glance at Theodore Nott. Seated at the Slytherin table between his usual rowdy gang of friends, he smirked at something Lorenzo had said.

"I think the word you're looking for is enigmatic, Gin. For all we know, he could be Voldemort in disguise." you stated flatly, stabbing a piece of potato on your plate. Earning a smack on the arm for using You-know-who's name so boldly, you ignored Ginny's attempts at convincing you to attend the party being thrown tonight.

"Help me understand why you're so bloody against the idea?! Is it because you have to bring a date?" she raised her eyebrows in question.

"That may be a part of the reason." you refused to meet her owl like stare, instead choosing to focus on the copy of the Daily Prophet in front of you.

"Why would that be an issue ? I can name five people off the top of my head who would say yes instantly." she prodded further, thankfully choosing to redirect her gaze towards the mail she'd received. Taking advantage of her momentary distraction, you snuck a glance at Theodore again. The sleeves of his uniform were rolled upto his elbow and you greedily took in the sight of his veiny forearms.

"What are you looking at?" Ginny broke you out of the reverie, your eyes immediately flitting towards the shawl Pansy was wearing.

"Pansy's new shawl. I can't recall which store I've seen it in but it looks very familiar." The lie rolled out smoothly, misleading Ginny. The pang of guilt ,that never lessened in impact, hit you yet again.

"Oh. Yeah, it does look quite familiar now that you mention it." She went off on a tangent about clothes and you let out a relieved sigh.

Ginny couldn't know. Not for now atleast.

The morning went on, your focus elsewhere during most of the classes. Ginny hadn't brought up the party again but you knew it was unavoidable. You were definitely acting quite strange. Not being the one to turn down an invite, your sudden refusal to attend this massive party did come as a surprise to your friends.

You had your reasons. Utterly selfish reasons.

However as the evening rolled by, Ginny had cornered you into agreeing. On bringing up the issue of the date, she'd simply shrugged and said "I took care of it."

That did not sound very reassuring.

It was worse than you had expected.

"CORMAC MC FUCKIN LAGGEN ?!?" you hissed at Ginny , your back to the boy in question.

Ginny looked away sheepishly and said "He told Hermione who told me that he had a thing for you. So I thought you guys could talk? I mean you don't have to really. Just drop him off in a corner."

"Drop him---" pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration, you whipped around to face Laggen and gave him a saccharine smile.

"Nice to meet you Laggen but I'm not interested."

He looked astounded, trying to wrap his head around the rejection. After a few seconds, he managed to sputter out "We haven't talked yet. How can you--"

"Yes. Yes I can. You have my permission to tell everyone I'm your date but please don't approach me again. Bye." you sauntered off into the party, Ginny keeping up behind you.

"Where's Harry anyways?" you asked, straining your neck to see past the crowd.

"Running late. Neville set his pants on fire so Ron and Harry are helping him out."

Shaking your head in amusement, you let your eyes run around the room searching for him.

There.

Theo sat on the couch near the fireplace, one arm thrown around the back , a glass of amber liquid in the other. The smoke from Mattheo's cigarette made his figure hazy.

"I'm gonna go grab a drink." Ginny said her voice floating by. You nodded distractedly , your attention held captive by Theo.

As if sending your presence behind him , he turned his head around and met your eyes. Slight confusion marred his face making his eyebrows furrow. He hadn’t expected you to be here.

Signalling to you with a quick nod of his head, he excused himself from his group of friends and made his way to his dorms. You stayed down for a couple more minutes , getting yourself a drink to throw off suspicion.

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d come tonight. Ginny change your mind?” Pansy popped out of the blue , startling you.

“Uh.. Pansy, hey. Yeah you know how Gin is.” Pansy was a bit of a talker. Aware that this conversation could go on forever , you tried to come up with an excuse. “Hey listen, I’ve got to use the bathroom real quick. I’ll find you again alright?”

Not waiting for a response , you made your way in the direction of the bathrooms and took a sharp turn in the opposite direction once you made sure Pansy had redirected her attention. Sneaking up the stairway to the boys dorm, you took a moment for yourself outside Theo’s dorm room, straightening out your clothes.

“Took you long enough.” His voice drawled as you entered his room, the familiar surroundings providing a sense of comfort.

“Pansy almost started a conversation.” You said laughing lightly at his wide eyed expression.

“Didn’t take you long then.” He corrected his previous statement , prowling towards you.

“No. I guess it didn’t.”

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he pulled you into a searing kiss that had you holding onto his shirt for balance. The words 'I missed you' played at the tip of your tongue struggling to be let out.

He nipped at your lower lip , a breathy sigh leaving you as you tangled your hands in his hair.

"Cormac Mc fuckin Laggen? Seriously?" Theo muttered , lowering his head to place soft kisses across your jaw. Leaning your head back to give him more access, you let out a soft laugh. "That's exactly what I said. Ginny is the real culprit."

A strangled moan left your lips as he sucked at your neck, immediately soothing it with a sloppy kiss. "T-Theo..you idiot. That's gonna leave a mark." He just hummed in response seemingly lost in the pleasure. Tugging his head back, you made him meet your gaze head on.

"If we stay up here for any longer, they'll suspect." A shiver passed through you as his hands trailed lower and cupped you arse, pulling your hips to his. "Let them." he said dropping his head to capture your lips once more.

"THEO, YOU IN THERE ??" Blaise Zabini's voice boomed through the door making you jump. A string of Italian curses left Theo's mouth as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah give me a minute!"

Cupping your face in his hands, he leaned down to your face placing you at eye level. "It'll all be over soon alright? We won't have to hide anymore. We can be free." The promise in his eyes lit a spark of hope within you, a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"Soon." you whispered , your eyes fluttering shut as you placed a kiss on his Dark Mark.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Spoiled Brat

Remus Lupin x Fem!Gaunt!Reader

August Taylor Swift

Masterlist

Summary: When your escapism over the summer turns a bit more real, as you fall in love with a half blood your father would never approve of}

Wc- 3642

Cw: Use of {Y/N}, sexual themes and scenes, cussing, }

A/N- This was an idea I have been toying with for a while, this may become a mini-series if you'd like

Taglist- @otterlockholmes

Part two

If it was one thing your parents stuck into your head when you were younger, it was that you, {Y/N} Gaunt, were better than any other witch in your presence. 

‘The Lost Gaunt’ is what they referred to you as. You, and of course, your parents fed into this idea. People were sure they had died out, either from your family's admittedly embarrassing financial status, or from a few choice family members disgracing your blood line with Muggle blood.

It wasn't a secret, your family's blood soaked history and ideals on muggles of any variety. Your father spoke especially lowly of half bloods, saying they were some of the most loathsome and desperate of them all, with parents who tainted their good family names by giving it to scum. 

Very opinionated, that man.

You were much the same when you were younger. Snappy and spoiled, demanded everything and no one ever fought you on it. Even with your family's position with lack of wealth, when your parents came out of hiding as Voldemort started his horrid flock, your father didn't hesitate to join. There was no lack of support from expected places. Every pureblood with half sense wanted to be in the good graces of the heir of Slytherin, even if she didn't attend the school. Little you was treated like an absolute princess. Even receiving a letter from Durmstrang personally, your father opting for the obvious choice, burning your Hogwarts letter before you even read it. 

It made you an absolute terror when you got to the foreign school. Suddenly, you weren't as special as you were in London. Your name still carried a lot of marit, but so did several other students. You learned to keep your mouth shut, to keep your cards to your chest, and eventually, you unlearned everything your parents taught you. You met half bloods there, stronger than you had ever known witches and wizards to be, making close friends with several other open minded purebloods and friendly half bloods. 

Of course, you still had a family name to uphold. You studied and worked your hardest, eventually making it high enough on a social latter that Gaunt no longer mattered, but {Y/N} did. 

You started your rebellious streak in year 4, when your father asked you if you wanted to return home for the summer. It was the first time he gave you the choice, you refused. Instead, you traveled to Muggle London without his knowing. You went with a few friends, half bloods, they wanted to show you where they grew up. Your father would have your head for this. You thought in amusement as you danced through the market and gawked at all the muggle contraptions. You were sure to them you looked absolutely delirious, but you couldn't care less in the moment.

You wandered down the streets with a few girls who had broken off from the group. When you noticed a record store, your friends waved you off, refusing to join when they knew you'd be in there for hours. A boy who fancied you gifted you a small record player, and since then, you had been collecting muggle records at any opportunity. Thank Merlin your father didn't keep track of your spending.

You walked in with your head held high, you already gave off the impression of someone too good to be there, a force of habit. You walked down the aisle and searched the albums, dismissing people who tried to educate you on what was best, mostly men trying to impress you, you figured. Nothing more charming than being spoken down to. Eventually, you made it to some of the older ones, clearly used and used and used again. A soft yellow album caught your eye from the top shelf. Etta Jones? You thought for a moment. You had never seen it before, but the woman on the cover looked beautiful. 

You got on your toes and began to balance on a shelf, struggling to reach the damned record. You have a huff, ready to give in, before you hear a chuckle behind you. Whipping your head around you nearly spun around completely. Then, you saw him. A boy, he looked to be your age, tanned skin with soft pink scars littering his form, with one large one across his face. He had shaggy sandy blonde hair, almost brown, and the cockiest smirk on his face.

You huffed at him and put your hands on your hips, tilting your head at him. “Not very polite, you know. Watching a lady struggle without even an offer of help.” 

His smirk slowly turned to a dazzling smile. “You want my help? You've been blowing past people who've offered you help this whole time.” He remarked and you scoffed.

“Don't be coy. They weren't exactly being truly helpful. Also, no one here is as,” You gestured to him with both hands. “Vertically gifted as you.” 

He laughed at this and you got another flash of his pearly whites. “That so?”

“I only speak the truth.”

“That I see.”

“So will you?”

“Will I what?”

You scoffed with a scandalized look, gesturing to the album. “Help a damsel in distress?” 

He gave a playful hum and put his hands in his jean pockets, leaning forward a bit in his brown jumper that laid over a mustard yellow button up. “I'm not really the princely type, princess.” He teased and you slowly smirked. “I'm more in line with the monster.” 

“Well, kind monster, would you do your princess the kindness of grabbing her this single?” You hummed and he laughed. “My princess?”

“If you behave.” 

He looked you up and down before he walked over and grabbed the record, looking it over and holding it just out of reach as you tried to snatch it away. “What if I don't?”

You huffed and gave up on trying to swipe it, crossing your arms and biting your cheek. “That's not a very gentlemanly thing to do.”

“I'm not a very gentlemanly person.” He gave you a look that had the alarm bells in your head sounding, but you bit your lip and nodded. “Fine then. What would you like in return, hm?”

“Your name.”

“My name?” You huffed and smiled once more. He nodded with a serious look, but a smile tugged at his lips.

“{Y/N}.” You introduced and held your hand out. “You don't need my last name. You'll never have to call me it.” You remarked and his eyebrows raised in delight. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You mused as he handed you the record. 

“And your name?”

“Remus. Guess I'll skip the last name too. But please, call me Moony.” He remarked and you nodded. 

“Until next time, Moony.”

“Next time, {Y/N}.”

The summer was absolute bliss. You spent it doing all the things your father hated about muggles. Running in fields and jumping in stray bodies of water, going to parties and drinking until you were sick. You kissed muggle boys, went to underground concerts, and even took enchanted pictures for yourself to keep.

Though, you didn't see that record store boy for the rest of the summer. Not from lack of trying, however, going to the store twice a week to try and snag a glimpse of him. Eventually you gave up and went back to your friends.

The next summer, you did see him again. This time, it was a month in, you were out late at a party, and were waiting for the bus to take you to the flat you had bought under a fake muggle name. Well, you say you bought, in reality you had been taking portions of money from your father and pureblood families that wanted your favor, from the start of the school year, saving up enough to be the spoiled girl you were. 

You were standing under a street lamp, leaning against it as you pulled out a packet of cigarettes. You put it to your lips, just as you did, a voice called over to you. “Need a light?”

You turned to face the boy who seemed to sneak up on you in alarm, before you slowly lit up at the sight of him. He seemed puzzled by your expression before recognition covered his features. “Record store princess.”

“Record store monster.” You cheeked and he walked over, leaning down to cover the end of your smoke from the wind, lighting it with a simple flick. You didn't even think about how you didn't hear the usual metallic click of a lighter, instead, a snap. That was how you lit them anyway. 

“Where have you been, pretty boy?” You asked after a long drag, and he watched you breathe the smoke out of your lungs, eyes lingering on your lips. This made you curl them to give him a better view. “Around.”

“Something caught your eye?”

“Someone.” He muttered and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, glancing at the bus station. “I'm heading home, to my flat. Care to make sure your princess gets home safe?” 

He chuckled at the bold offer, rubbing the back of his neck and wetting his lips. There was a pause as he thought about it. “... lead the way.”

That summer was somehow even better than the previous. He spent the night with you, that night, then every single other night. He came and never dreamed of leaving, only gone a handful of days for a few hours at a time for his summer job.

There was this amazing peace, waking up, laying in your stomach, hugging your pillows in your plush massive mess of blankets and pillows, with him. Most of the boys you brought back would be gone in the morning, you preferred it that way, but when you woke up to his arm around your bare back and his nose in the nape of your bruised and bite ridden neck, you couldn't dream of another outcome.

He joked, the second he saw the large canopy bed, about you letting monsters into your private quarters. He seemed to not think so highly of himself, but with every part of your skin he discovered, with every touch and sound he drew from you, he seemed to grow more confident in your situationship. It was dangerous, you knew it, this muggle boy had you wrapped around his finger. Judging by the way he looked at you when you would fall into the clouds of euphoria, he met the same fate.

You had never felt so content, going out and partying, coming home before he did, and spending your nights and afternoons together. With the odd exceptions of a few days out of the months, he was glued to you. Your friends teased you, but for once, you couldn't find it in yourself to be embarrassed. When school came, you had never felt so crushed. You spent the day before lingering in each other's presence without a word. The silence was enough. 

When he brought you to bed, and your skin was pressed to his, his nose to your temple as he whispered sweet words of encouragement and pure infatuation, you were wreathing and gasping in short spouts, you muttered something that drew his rough movements to a stop. You hadn't even realized it, and he noticed how your eyes squished together and you whined with a huff. Fluttering open your eyes, staring up at his knee weakening hazels. He stared at you in silence and you slowly moved to sit up. It clicked to him, you hadn't even realized what you said. You'd never know that those three little words utterly destroyed him. Knowing that tomorrow he would be away from you again. He knew it would be hell.

He huffed and slowly pulled back. He began slowly, taking you in as if he was trying to commit you to memory. Every curve and blemish, every bit of scarred flesh he devoured with an open mouth kiss. You were lost once more to your own ecstasy. 

He wanted to say it back so horribly. 

He wanted you to know he loved you too.

~~~

You spent all of your sixth year waiting for summer, but when it came you dreaded it. Your father told you that you were to move back to London and resume your normal life in preparation for finding you a suitor.

He had promised your mother that he would wait until you were at least 20 to start, but her passing this year it seems he changed his mind. So you returned to business as usual, being enrolled in Hogwarts for your last year of schooling, and being undertaken by the Black’s matriarch, Walaburga, to learn how to be a pureblood witch worth marrying.

Every day she would come to the Gaunt manor, quiz and train you on behaviors and etiquette. You hated those meetings, she was needlessly cruel and fake nice, to the point it was painful for you to watch her try and flatter and build your fathers ego. It made you sick. Soon, but not soon enough, the summer was over and at least you would be at Hogwarts and away from that sour faced woman.

~~

Remus had gone to your flat that summer, he stayed there for a week before he realized you weren't coming home. He hated it. He hated how you didn't tell him where you were, where you were going. There was this silent agreement between the both of you, You never told him where you would be and he never asked, Never exchanged much about your current personal lives, just the past. So if someone was to ask him where you were, he wouldn't have a clue.  You promised him you'd see each other next summer, and that was enough. 

At first his bitterness was winning, he wanted to believe you left without a word because you wanted nothing more than what you were that summer. Deep down, however, he knew. He knew by the way you looked at him in the morning, how you would pull him into the middle of the room in your socks and his shirt, like it was a dress on you, twirling around and slow dancing to that record he got you the first time you met. You always got what you wanted, and Remus knew he was what you wanted. When he left, he set a paper folded up between the door and the wall, a simple but desperate note. He needed you.

So when he got back to Hogwarts, he was a wreck. His friends noticed immediately. When he sat on the train, and looked out the window instead of shoving his nose in a book or teasing the others together.

“Moony, you good man?” James spoke up first after the three shared awkward looks. 

“Yeah dude, you look like a kicked puppy. Or James when Lily isn't looking at him.” Sirius tried to joke, looking through his suitcase before he paused and his eyes widened.

Remus was suddenly filled with dread. “Don't-”

“Let me guess, the cool girl you met last summer didn't show up this time? Told you, muggle girls her age are crazy.” Sirius laughed, not looking up, only to get jabbed harshly in his side with James’ elbow. Sirius hissed and held his side, looking at James with a glare before James flicked his eyes to Remus.

Sirius looked over and saw just how broken up Remus seemed to be about it. He sighed and gave him a pained sympathetic look. Watching as Peter took out a chocolate bar and handed it over to Remus. He muttered a thank you and took it. Sirius sighed and shook his head. “Look, I'm sorry dude. I don't mean it.”

“It's fine.” Remus answered quickly. “I was surprised she even gave me the time of day. I guess I always have that summer. I'll be over it in time, I'm sure she isn't missing me as much, as I'm moping over her, maybe that will help me get over it.”

He tried to believe that. He really did. His words were coming out low, he tried to sound wise but he truly sounded pathetic. He felt pathetic. She was all he could think about. From the train, to the carriages, to the Great Hall. Lily saw him and gave him a pout, he had written to her over the summer about what had happened. He wanted her perspective about what had happened, where he could have gone wrong, and out of the thirty he sent her she responded in kind to all of them. She walked up to him, straight past James which left the tall boy to theatrics. 

“Sirius did she just-” James gasped and clenched his chest.

“She did, James, she did.” Sirius walked up behind him with a smirk.

“Does she love me anymore?” He turned to Sirius and the shorter boy snickered.

“I don't think so, Jamie. I'll always love you, though.” Sirius indulged his theatrics and caught James (totally not with a struggle, totally smooth, Sirius is very strong) and James gasped. “You will, won't you, pads?”

“Always, my love.” Sirius declared his affections and James fanned his face like a swooning Victorian debutante. Lily rolled her eyes so hard she swore they would fall from her face. 

She turned back to Remus who gave her a painful smile. “I left her a note like you suggested.”

“Anything?”

“Nothing.” Remus sighed and she nodded carefully. 

“I'm sure there is more to it, Remus. Don't let it consume you.” Lily tried to reassure him and he sighed again, making James and Sirius catch up as they sat down. 

“Yeah, there are a million girls in the world!” Sirius tried to cheer him up and both Lily and James winced at that.

“None of them are like her.” Remus sighed and Sirius gave an owl-like look and then gave a breath of shock. “... Damn Remus, that much, huh?”

He groaned and hit his head on the table. “I just want to sleep.”

“We could always ditch the sorting ceremony.” Lily tried to nudge him, he seemed to smile at her a bit at the offer. 

“Yeah, but then you'll miss a seventh year being sorted.” Peter piped up and the four of them snapped over to look at him. 

“What? Seventh?” She asked as she looked up at the kids in front of the hall, before she bit her tongue. “Right.. that Gaunt girl every Slytherin is losing their mind over?” 

Sirius choked on his pumpkin juice before he quickly cleared his throat as James patted his back. “Woah mate!”

“Her! My mom was tutoring her all summer. Regulus told me. That girl, trying to be the perfect bride or some shit? Just another spoiled pureblood.” Sirius huffed and Lily gave a faint nod. “I hate to agree, but apparently she's the worst.”

“Of course, she's the Slytherin heir.” Sirius huffed. “Apparently she went to Dumstrung, and you know how awful they are.”

“Ah.” Lily mumbled and her eyes landed on you past the crowd, nudging Remus. “There she is. Oh Merlin, spoiled and pretty? Dangerous combination.”

Remus sighed and looked over as you sat on the chair. His entire body froze. “Ahh! {Y/N} Gaunt! Slytherin!” 

The hat didn't hesitate. You had a calm blank expression you were tutored on all summer. Looking across the students, almost bored. You stood up and dusted off your robes, before you froze up at the sound of your name being shouted across the hall.

Remus didn't think. He saw you and shot up from his seat. Lily looked at him, startled, looking between the two before her eyes widened at the name. Oh Merlin. 

Sirius was bewildered, James was stunned, and Peter hid his face away from the crowds of students who turned to look at Remus. He got a variety of different looks from everyone, but there was a running theme. Who do you think you are? Talking to Gaunt.

“{Y/N}.” He called again, firmer. You looked like a deer in headlights. Staring at him in a stunned silence before one of the girls you met on the train tugged at your sleeve. You glanced at her and by the time you looked back, Remus was rushing across the hall to you. No no no no no.

“Fuck.” You hissed and snatched your sleeve from her. You watched as he closed in on you. You felt every hair on your neck stand up. “Fuck fuck.” You whispered.

You panicked. And you ran. He was stunned and froze on the spot. You ran straight out of the hall. Remus cursed and turned to his friends, then to the professors. Lily tried to stand and bring him back to sit down, but as if he was a wild animal, the movement gave him a rush of adrenaline. What did he do? What did this absolute stupid and love sick fool do? 

He ran after you. The entire hall was silent, even the professors stunned before his head of house yelled at him to sit down. He ignored them, turning the corner out of the hall and dashing down the hall he saw you run down.

The hall was quiet for a moment or two, before Lily spoke up. “I'll make it up to you, Professors!” She shouted back before she ran after the two. 

“Me too!” James shouted and followed after her. 

“I will not!” Sirius laughed and ran after them, Peter looking at the shouting professor before she made eye contact with him. Peter slowly sat up and she gave him a warning glance, before he quickly scrambled after his friends. 

McGonagall could only sigh as Dumbledore stifled a laugh into his sleeve.

[whizzing-fizzbee]

I Love You, It's Ruining My Life

Sebastian Sallow x Reader (Female MC)

Rating: Explicit 18+ (profanity, smut, adult themes), all characters are adults Words: 16,004 Themes: ex-lovers, rekindled romance, failed marriages, unhappy marriages, post-Hogwarts, adulthood, cheating, infidelity, jealousy, pregnancy, mild violence, language, smut, happy ending

Summary: You were supposed to be happily married to your handsome and successful husband. You most certainly were not supposed to think about your ex-boyfriend, Sebastian Sallow. After all, it's been five years since you broke up amid your graduation from Hogwarts. But when your husband surprises you with the announcement you're moving to Feldcroft, you despair over your new neighbors.

Notes: This was obviously inspired by Taylor Swift's "Fortnight." I debated with myself about including any smut with this, so I wrote it in such a way that you, the reader, can choose. Part I is the story. Part II is a smutty epilogue, which you can skip if you'd like. Read on AO3 or below the cut.

Part I: Turned Into Good Neighbors

“Darling? Are you home?”

You looked up from your novel at the sound of your husband’s voice calling from the kitchen. It was a quarter past 6 p.m. and you made a mental note that he was an hour late.

“In here,” you called, ensuring your tone didn’t expose your annoyance. He was a good man, you told yourself, and he worked long, hard hours to provide you with a nice life.

“Ah, there you are,” Oliver said as he appeared in the doorway. You smiled up at him as he approached to plant a kiss on your forehead, his usual greeting. The next step in this routine was for you to ask him how his day went, and then he’d sit down and tell you everything he did at work for the next 20 minutes.

But today was different, and while you usually welcomed change, this was a bigger surprise than you had bargained for.

“I have news,” Oliver declared. You decided his gaze looked more excited than concerned, so the tense manner in which your posture had straightened relaxed, but just slightly.

“News?” you repeated. “What is it?”

“I bought us a new cottage,” Oliver revealed excitedly. You couldn’t help but blink at him.

“A new cottage?”

“Yes, in a quaint little hamlet in the Highlands,” Oliver said. “Far away from the bustle of the city.”

“And we’re going to live there?” you asked.

“Aye, we are,” Oliver said. “I can simply floo to the Ministry for work every day. And we can apparate or floo back here to London any time we want.”

He spoke as if it were the most simple, obvious decision in the world, but your stomach twisted into knots. 

“We’re moving to the Highlands,” you repeated. The faint twitch in Oliver’s jaw indicated he was growing annoyed with the way you were repeating his words, but you were having a difficult time processing such a significant revelation.

London had been your home for the past five years, two of which you spent living with Oliver in your home together. Though city living wasn’t your dream, you’d established your roots there with friends and a life that kept you occupied. The Scottish Highlands would be vastly different from this life, especially since you hadn’t been there since your Hogwarts days.

“Look, I know this is sudden and that I’ve surprised you,” Oliver said, his tone steady and gentle. “But this is what you wanted, isn’t it? You’ve always said London doesn’t suit you and that you miss the Highlands. Now’s our chance to take advantage of that. It’s a perfect opportunity.”

It was true, you missed the Highlands. They were nostalgic to you, a reminder of your years as a student. Your life had been defined and shaped by the adventures you had across the Highlands’ hamlets, the good and the bad. You missed the people, the peace, the picturesque landscape and the slower pace of it all.

But you hadn’t asked to move there. You didn’t tell your husband you were intent on leaving your perfectly content life to buy a new home and make new friends.

“The cottage is lovely,” Oliver continued boastfully. “Or at least it will be. I got a fantastic deal on it because it requires some minor repairs and renovations. We’ll be able to put our own personal touch on it.”

You didn’t want to fight with Oliver. Your marriage had been rocky, to put it lightly, and the two of you were presently in a good place. You hadn’t had a fight in weeks, and it made you hopeful that your turbulent days were behind you. 

So in order to keep the peace, you flashed a smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes. After all, Oliver was the one working to create a life for you both, together. 

“It sounds lovely,” you said. “Which hamlet is it?”

“A brilliant little place to the south of Hogwarts,” Oliver said proudly. “Feldcroft.”

One month later

The spring air felt clean and refreshing against your skin the moment you emerged from the floo flames. It was a stark contrast to the heavy, dirty London air that clouded your lungs and made your eyes occasionally burn.

It was new, yet so familiar, you instantly felt the memories beginning to stir. You gazed around the hamlet, which looked largely unchanged since the last time you visited years back. Some of the cottages looked older, worn by time and the harsh, salty sea air that carried in from the coast. Other buildings were new, including a row of three small shops that hadn’t been there before.

The wood lookout tower was still there, looking weathered and rickety now. The recollection of the first time you visited Feldcroft surged immediately.

You flew there from Hogwarts when you were fifteen on a quiet Saturday morning to visit your friend, Sebastian, and his sister, Anne. The events of that first day remained vivid, but not as sharp or as provoking as the events that occurred the last day you were there.

You could still remember the smell of the Feldcroft catacombs, damp and deadly. You could hear the raucous echoes of spells ricocheting off the walls, the hiss of the inferi that circled you, and the cries of despair when Anne Sallow found her uncle’s body. You could still see the blinding green light that erupted from Sebastian’s wand the moment he changed everything.

“Darling?”

Oliver’s voice yanked you from your memories. The thoughts had left you winded, your palms sweaty and your mouth dry.

“Sorry, what?” you asked, turning to meet Oliver’s concerned gaze.

“I said, are you ready? Our cottage is just this way.”

“Oh, right. Of course. Sorry, I was just… feeling nostalgic,” you laughed, flashing a smile for good measure.

“Ah, I’ll bet,” Oliver said as he offered you his arm to guide you through the hamlet. He began rattling off every fact he could find about Feldcroft and its history, as if you weren’t well versed in the events that had happened there during your teenage years, as if you didn’t have your own history with the town.

But as he rambled, you could feel your heart beginning to pound in your chest as that particular cottage came into view. You swallowed as it drew nearer, your eyes scanning it carefully for signs of life.

It was mostly unchanged from the last time you saw it. Flower boxes hung from the windows now and you noticed a row of pink rose bushes in the front. There were new wood shutters flanking the windows and the door was painted a deep shade of green.

It looked lovely as ever, but the memories tied to it clouded your head with dread. 

“Are- are we nearly there?” you asked, interrupting Oliver’s explanation of the hamlet’s first inhabitants.

“Just about,” he replied. “It’s just ahead, over there.”

Panic surged through your body, rising in your chest and blooming through your limbs as you realized how close you were coming to that cottage. Your feet suddenly felt as if they were carrying lead, the thud of each step reverberating in your brain.

“That one, right there,” Oliver said, gesturing toward your cottage as you passed the well at the center of town.

No. No way. Surely, not.

But Oliver steered you closer and closer until that cottage was in front of you. You passed it, your heart slamming in your chest as you snuck a glance toward the front window, before Oliver stopped outside the cottage next door.

“Here we are!” he said happily. “Home sweet home!”

You recognized this cottage, too. It belonged to a nice vendor named Bernard Ndiyae back when you were fifteen. It appeared worn down now, clearly having been vacant for years, but it looked cozy.

“Well?” Oliver’s voice said in your ear as you realized he had been watching you closely for a reaction. “What do you think?”

You made a careful point not to glance at the home next door, its rose bushes threatening you with thorns in spite of their beauty. Instead, you smiled up at Oliver and squeezed his hand.

“It’s perfect.”

---

The cottage certainly did need work, but thanks to some useful conjuration and transfiguration spells you learned from Professor Weasley, you had the house looking like a home in no time.

The fireplace now crackled with warmth thanks to repairs to the cracked chimney, the dusty wood floors were restored to a fresh gleam, and the kitchen was clean and functional.

You spent your first three days decidedly confined inside the cottage, working to put your own touches on the interior. It was necessary work, not just for the sake of your home, but for the preservation of your sanity.

You didn’t dare go outside. You didn’t even cast a peek out the window toward the next door neighbor’s house. Not until one morning, four days after you moved in, to begin your work on fixing the cottage’s exterior.

Oliver had taken a few days off from work to help with the house, which you appreciated. He had been putting in 10-hour work days, so you enjoyed his company while you had it. 

That morning, he badgered you to join him outside so the two of you could decide what to do with the landscaping and garden, and what color to paint the front door. You begrudgingly agreed, blaming your allergies when Oliver called you out on your reluctance.

When you stepped outside, you couldn’t help but appreciate the warmth of the sunlight that seemed to breathe new life into you after spending days inside that dusty house.

But your euphoria was quickly quashed by the sound of splashing water. 

“Oh! Hello!” a cheery voice said from the direction you had been desperate to avoid.

You held your breath as you turned to the source, your gaze falling on a pretty blonde woman who was watering the rose bushes in front of thatcottage. She appeared to be about your same age, though she was noticeably shorter and very pregnant. 

“Hello,” Oliver said, making long, quick strides toward the short fence separating your homes as he kept one hand gently placed at the small of your back.

“Welcome!” the woman said, the high pitch of her voice already grating on your nerves. She smiled warmly at you, but something about her gaze unsettled you. “We were wondering when we’d get to meet our new neighbors. I’m Wendy.” 

You and Oliver introduced yourselves as Wendy finished watering her roses. “I’m afraid my husband’s at work,” Wendy continued. “But you’ll meet him soon enough.”

Soon enough. You couldn’t be certain, but somehow you just knew you wouldn’t need an introduction.

“Have you lived here long?” you asked carefully.

“Oh, I’ve only lived here for a couple of years, since we got married,” Wendy explained. “But my husband has lived here since he was a boy. He inherited the cottage from his late uncle.”

The air immediately left your lungs and you began racking your brain for any excuse to retreat inside your cottage and never leave again. Better yet, an excuse to leave Feldcroft and never return again.

Instead, Oliver took control of the conversation to sing Feldcroft’s places and to dote his historical knowledge on Wendy, who appeared too polite to not listen. 

How could this possibly happen? How did you end up back here, in this hamlet where your history was tainted by some of your worst memories? How did you end up living next door to the boy who had dragged you to Hell and back, only to clip your wings when you thought you’d reached Heaven? Most important, how were you ever going to possibly face him again?

It would be inevitable and anything but easy. It never was with him.

“You two will have to come over for dinner soon,” Wendy continued. “Sebastian would love to meet you.”

There it was. That name. His name. It wasn’t easy to hear it five years ago and it wasn’t easy now. Sure, you’d moved on and were perfectly content with the life you’d built with the husband you loved, but the past, those memories, still twisted your stomach into knots that left you winded.

There was something about the notion that he had moved on too that produced a pang in your chest that left you stricken by guilt and shame. Of course he moved on. He was the one who ended things with you, citing your different paths in life as you prepared for your futures outside of Hogwarts. That reason hadn’t been good enough for you, but you knew holding a grudge against your teenage boyfriend was senseless and unbecoming. 

Now, you’d be living next door to him and his beautiful wife who seemed to radiate in ways you never could. Of course he found someone who was the epitome of human sunshine, a staggering contradiction to you. You were intense, prone to moody bouts of cynicism and warring convictions. You weren’t the type to light up a room or charm your way into the hearts of all who crossed your path. You were a lot, yet it seemed Sebastian had found someone who managed to be much more, but in all the right ways.

But propriety was important and you had a husband who was trying to make you happy. He bought you this cottage with the hope of returning you to a world you once loved, though you knew it was also his ploy to silence all of your recent arguments.

So instead of hexing Wendy Sallow into the next century, you forced a kind smile.

“That’d be lovely,” you said, your voice taking on a sickly sweet pitch of too much enthusiasm. “Please let me know if I can bring anything.”

“Wonderful,” Wendy cooed. “Well, I should get inside. Time to start working on dinner.”

She bid you farewell and you watched as she retreated inside that cottage that had once welcomed you. Even several months pregnant, she moved with a level of dainty grace that made your lip curl. You wanted to drown her in a lake.

“Well, she seems nice,” Oliver commented once she was gone. You nodded silently. “It’s nice to know our neighbors are friendly people. Perhaps we’ll be able to get to know them more.”

“Perhaps,” you said, praying your steady tone would drown out the silent screams ringing inside your skull.

---

Despite the tension you felt every time you stepped outside your cottage, you couldn’t help but ease into a comforting routine in Feldcroft. It was peaceful there, and the inhabitants lived at a much more pleasant pace than bustling London. You liked it there, but you also hadn’t run into the reason you’d avoided the hamlet in the first place.

One morning, you visited the store to pick up some items for dinner while Oliver was at work. It was warm outside and you enjoyed a slow stroll home with your groceries, the scent of spring easing your posture.

As you reached your front door, you fumbled in your pockets for your keys when a familiar voice greeted you.

“Hello.”

You froze. Did he realize it was you? Was there time to scurry inside your cottage before he figured it out? Perhaps you could apparate on the spot and never return.

It was all so deranged. You were a hero at one point in your life. You saved Hogwarts during a goblin rebellion, not to mention the countless creatures you freed from poachers and the dark wizards you defeated. You were anything but a coward, but one stupid man made you that way.

Slowly, you lifted your head to turn and meet his gaze. He froze, too, as you watched the recognition settle in his eyes.

“Hello, Sebastian,” you said quietly. There was no edge to your tone, nor was there any fondness. You were simply greeting him as cordial neighbors do.

If you hadn’t been wondering if you were going to be sick on your own front steps, you might have actually taken glee in Sebastian’s reaction. He looked like he’d seen a ghost, the color drained from his freckled cheeks as he struggled for words.

“I… you… It’s you,” he finally managed. You pressed your tongue into the roof of your mouth to stifle a snort. How very unromantic it all felt after all these years – you, fumbling your house keys and Sebastian, void of any coherent sentences. The two of you seemed as awkward and unrefined as your 15-year-old selves.

“It’s me,” you replied, and you couldn’t help but offer him a smile.

You knew this moment was coming, so you had spent the past week mentally preparing for it. You vowed to endure it with dignity. No hard feelings, no familiar longing or spite. You were going to handle it with class and poise, the way you always took care of business. That’s all this was anyway, right? It wasn’t personal. You and Sebastian hadn’t been personal in years. You were neighbors now, and neighborly relations could be handled as strictly business.

You tried not to stare too long. He was still youthful, but his boyish features had sharpened into handsome angles. You could see traces of stubble casting a faint shadow along his jawline, which was more defined. His skin remained freckled and his hair was still disheveled, an indication that the same Sebastian still lingered inside him.

“You’re my new neighbor?” he asked, still looking alarmed.

“I’m afraid so.”

An anguishing silence fell between you, but you were determined to force him to speak first. Maybe it was immature and petty, but you had decided to let Sebastian determine how far your new relationship as neighbors would go.

“My wife… my wife told me she met the new neighbors but she didn’t mention names,” Sebastian continued. “She didn’t mention it was anyone I knew.”

“I figured I’d let you decide if she needed to know that information,” you said simply. It was true. It wasn’t your place to reveal your past with Sebastian. He should be the one to tell Wendy, if he even wanted to. “If you’d rather pretend we’ve only just met, I’ll fully understand,” you added.

Sebastian couldn’t begin to compute how to relay your connection to Wendy – he was still stuck on the fact you were even there in the first place.

“How… why…” he started. Even after all these years, you could read him.

“My husband,” you answered without waiting on him to ask questions. “He bought this cottage without telling me. Wanted to get out of London. I had no idea until he brought me here.”

Sebastian didn’t respond as he mulled over your words, clearly unsure of what to say. His eyes were determinedly avoiding you, as if looking at you would expose all your shared secrets to everyone in Feldcroft.

“Your wife is lovely,” you offered in an attempt to facilitate the conversation. 

“Oh. Yes, she is,” Sebastian mumbled stupidly.

“When is your baby due?”

“Two months.”

“Is it your first child?”

“Yes.”

Another silence emerged and you couldn’t help but eye Sebastian with the faintest air of amusement. The Sebastian you had known could rarely keep his mouth shut. This Sebastian seemed unable to speak in complete sentences.

“Look,” you said, your tone shifting to something much more pointed and serious. “I know this is bizarre. Believe me, I would never have agreed to move here had I known. But maybe we can both just pretend like the past doesn’t exist and get a fresh start.” Sebastian frowned but said nothing in protest, so you continued. “My husband doesn’t know anything about us - our past. He only knows that I used to spend time in Feldcroft during my Hogwarts days. We don’t have to tell them. We can be strangers turned neighbors.”

Still no response from Sebastian. His abnormal silence was making you nervous, yet annoyed. After all this time and all he had put you through, surely the least he could do was acknowledge your words with civility.

Finally, his eyes met yours, though they were difficult to read.

“It’s good to see you,” he said, sending you deeper into your unsettled state. “I-I’ve always wondered how you were doing, how you ended up.”

You weren’t prepared for that. Though he was likely just being polite, you hadn’t expected him to admit to thinking about you. 

“I’m doing just fine,” you said, unsure who you were trying to convince. “Looks like you are as well.”

Sebastian nodded carefully. “You said you came from London. Are you… did you end up becoming an auror?”

The question was innocent enough, but it made your stomach twist and your eyes drop to the ground in shame. “No,” you said, taking care to keep your tone neutral. “I didn’t.”

“Oh.”

“What about you? I remember you wanting to be a curse breaker.”

Sebastian nodded. “I was in Egypt for a year, now I travel for work, mostly curse breaking cases within a hundred-mile radius.”

Despite your past differences and old wounds, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride for him. He had been so remorseful for the mistakes he made during your fifth year, you were happy to see his success in spite of it all.

“And Anne?”

“She’s still with us,” Sebastian said with a faint smile. “She lives at a care facility owned and operated by St. Mungo’s. They keep her comfortable there and she’s made good friends.”

“And Ominis?”

“Still the same old Ominis.” You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of your mutual friend. “He works at the Ministry. Part of the Wizengamot.”

“Ominis, a purveyor of justice? How original,” you quipped. 

Sebastian barked a laugh, the sound beckoning you with nostalgia. “I reckon Ominis felt the need to make up for… well, you know,” he said.

Of course you knew. You and Ominis covered for Sebastian when he killed his uncle. It was you who had convinced Ominis not to turn Sebastian in, and Ominis in turn convinced Anne to protect her brother. 

“Good for him,” you said, still smiling at the thought of Ominis Gaunt sitting in court. It certainly suited him. It also made you miss him.

You had tried to maintain your friendship with Ominis beyond your seventh year, but it became collateral damage as your turbulent relationship with Sebastian splintered. 

“Your husband,” Sebastian finally said. “Is… is he home?”

“Oliver. His name is Oliver. He’s at work,” you answered. “He works for the Ministry as well. In the Department of International Magical Cooperation.”

Sebastian tilted his head. “I’m surprised Wendy didn’t recognize him,” he said. “She works at the Ministry as a receptionist, though she mainly just sees Ministry visitors, not employees.”

“Oliver comes and goes a lot,” you said with a shrug. “They have him traveling quite a bit.”

“Makes sense.”

You could feel the conversation reaching a conclusion, or at least you hoped that was the case. Sebastian’s eyes continued to linger on you and you prayed he blamed your red cheeks on the sun. 

When several moments ticked by with no spoken words, you cleared your throat.

“Well, I’d better get this food inside,” you said, hoping your tone sounded more pleasant than nauseous.

“Right.” Sebastian shifted from one foot to the other, his hands shoved inside his pockets. “Er, I’ll see you around then.”

“Sure, see you around, Sebastian. It was, um, nice to meet you.”

“Right. Nice to meet you, too.”

Once you were inside your cottage, you slammed the door shut, your back pressed against it to catch your breath, your satchel of groceries forgotten on the floor.

Seeing him shouldn’t affect you like this. You were married. He was married. You shouldn’t feel a thing toward him, not after five years and the pain he inflicted on you during your breakup.

You should hate him.

By the time Oliver arrived home, you were in a sour mood, annoyed he was late again and mentally drained from your reunion with Sebastian. The dinner you made had grown cold from waiting for Oliver, leaving you to pick at your plate void of any appetite.

Oliver could sense the tension but tactfully chose to keep to himself. After dinner, he retired to his office to read, leaving you to clear the table.

What you really needed was to clear your mind.

Still fuming over Oliver’s tardiness, you flicked your wand to send the dinner dishes sailing toward the sink where they clattered audibly. Without acknowledging your husband, you pulled a sweater on and slipped outside, the door shutting behind you with a quiet creak.

You knew exactly where you were headed. It was the same place you and Sebastian frequented as teenagers to watch the stars when you were bored at night. You climbed the lookout tower, only slightly wary of the way it creaked and groaned beneath your footsteps to the top. When you reached it, you froze.

“Sebastian?”

“Heard you coming,” he replied. “Thought it might be you.”

“Oh. Sorry. I’ll go-”

“Stay,” he said quietly. “I assume you need to clear your mind about something. That’s the only reason anyone comes up here anymore.”

“I… yeah,” was all you could manage.

Sebastian gestured to a wood crate that sat opposite him. Years earlier, the two of you would sit on the floor of the tower, your legs dangling over the ledge as you gazed across the Feldcroft region’s landscape.

Your eyes scanned the view for the first time in years. Dusk was darkening the sky, but the scene appeared mostly unchanged. It comforted you, despite the unsettling company sitting across from you.

Neither of you said anything at first. What could you possibly say? You squirmed in your seat, silently willing Sebastian to be the first to break the silence. It was torture, because you wanted to be angry at him; instead, you were merely desperate to talk to him.

“What are you really doing here?” he finally asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Did your husband really just surprise you with a cottage in Feldcroft and force you to pack up and move here?”

You frowned at him, anxious that he might believe that you moved there for him. But you were also afraid to tell him the truth, to spill your personal troubles so quickly after your reunion.

“He really did,” you sighed. “But I suspect he has ulterior motives than simply trying to make me happy.”

It was Sebastian’s turn to frown. “Isn’t that what a husband is supposed to do – make his wife happy?”

“Is that what you do?”

“Of course.”

How lucky for Wendy.

“Well, I suppose he just wanted an escape from London,” you finally said with a shrug, prompting another lengthy silence.

“I still can’t believe you’re here,” Sebastian suddenly said. When you looked up, you noticed he wasn’t looking at you. Instead, his eyes had fallen on something distant, likely nothing in particular at all.

“Trust me, neither can I,” you breathed with a faint chuckle.

“I can’t believe it’s already been five years since we graduated and since we... broke up.”

“Feels like yesterday in many ways, yet also feels like a lifetime ago,” you said simply. 

Sebastian finally turned his gaze to you, studying you with a curiosity that made you straighten your posture and hold your breath.

“So what have you been up to then?” he asked. “You mentioned you’re not an auror, so what are you?”

Your face fell. How could you possibly answer that with any dignity? The truth was shameful and, knowing Sebastian, he’d be disappointed in you. But you married Oliver, not Sebastian, and your husband’s opinion mattered more. 

“I’m… not much of anything,” you finally admitted. There was no use lying to Sebastian. “I don’t work. Oliver takes care of me.” Sebastian hummed a response that ignited your defenses. “What?” you demanded rather sharply.

“Nothing,” Sebastian replied simply. “I’m just surprised, is all. You never struck me as the housewife type.”

“And why not?”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Sebastian chuckled. “Wendy’s probably going to quit her reception job and stay home once the baby arrives. The hours can be erratic and she doesn't like the work. It’s just… you always struck me as being different.”

“Different how?”

Sebastian shrugged. “You were the only person I’d ever met who was more stubborn and daring than me,” he answered. “You were always off on some adventure, saving or helping someone in need. You could never sit still and relax. You were always keen to use your magic for good. Just surprises me to hear you prefer to stay home.”

You bit your tongue. It wasn’t that you preferred to be a housewife. You wanted to become an auror, to do exactly what Sebastian had said - to use your ancient magic for good and to prevent more dark wizards from hurting anyone else. You had been well on your way, too. The Ministry had accepted your application to its auror division, but then you met Oliver.

Oliver preferred you to stay home and allow him to take care of you. He promised you invitations to elite social events and that you’d never have to worry about finances, not that you cared about those things. When you told him you wanted to work, he gave you an ultimatum, and you were in no place to turn down such a favorable marriage prospect. 

You’d be more willing to stay home if you had children to take care of, but it wasn’t until after your wedding that Oliver made it clear he wasn’t interested in starting a family. You were crushed by the revelation, but clung to hope that someday he’d change his mind.

“Staying home just works better for Oliver and me,” you said quietly. You were afraid to meet Sebastian’s gaze, because you knew he’d see through that excuse. That was the terrifying, yet thrilling part of being near Sebastian – he read you like the hundreds of books in his collection. 

“But you’d rather be working,” Sebastian said carefully.

“Of course. You can take the woman from the duel, but you can’t take the duel out of the woman.”

Sebastian couldn’t help but smirk. Merlin, that smirk was still there and it still made your insides melt.

“Why don’t you tell him you want to work?” he asked.

“Why don’t you mind your business?” you retorted. Your eyes widened the moment the words left your lips. Horrified at your lapse in decorum, you hastily apologized.

But this was Sebastian, and he knew your true wit and grit better than anyone. He barked a laugh. “I knew that scrappy spirit was still in there somewhere,” he said, his tone carrying an old fondness that made your heart ache.

But you couldn’t allow Sebastian to reel you back in, even if he wasn’t trying to do so. He had hurt you and you’d likely never forget it.

Sure, you recovered from the heartbreak, but you still remembered the way it made you feel. That memory dictated every relationship you had since Sebastian, including your decision to marry Oliver. You chose the safe bet, the one that wouldn’t make you feel that level of heartache ever again.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you snapped. “At least not anymore.”

Sebastian flinched at your tone. “I suppose that’s true,” he said with a frown. “And I suppose I deserve your hostility.”

“I’m not hostile-”

“It’s okay,” Sebastian cut you off with the wave of a hand. “I know I didn’t treat you all that great back then. I messed up bad and I’ve never forgiven myself for it.”

You paused, taken aback by his vulnerable admission. You hadn’t expected that from him, not when you’d only reconnected hours ago. You had assumed he had spent the past five years without giving you another thought.

“It’s not something worth fretting over,” you finally said, hoping your tone was gentler. “I mean, it all worked out in the end for the both of us, right?”

“Right,” Sebastian agreed, his eyes returning to the distant landscape. “But still, you didn’t deserve the way I treated you, or the way I broke things off.”

“Sebastian, we were eighteen,” you said, your lighthearted tone betraying the hurt you’d carried inside your chest for five years. “We were both young and dumb. A relationship like that was always going to be fleeting.”

“Still, I’ve never felt good about how we left things and I’m sorry for it. I've missed you terribly.”

It felt like something in the atmosphere had shifted, like that apology had been the missing piece to the puzzle of your past five years. But the weight that should have lifted off your shoulders pressed down harder when Sebastian’s gaze met yours again. His apology should have set you free with closure and loosened the ties that bound you to your past. Instead, it made you long for it.

“You don’t need to apologize, but I appreciate it,” you said, offering him a reassuring smile. “And I must say, this is the strangest second chance fate has ever handed me.”

“Too true,” Sebastian laughed. “It’d be a shame to waste it.”

You swallowed, willing yourself to have the strength to forgive Sebastian and the resolve to allow him back into your life, even just as your next door neighbor. 

“Then we won’t,” you said confidently. “It would be nice to have a friend in Feldcroft… again.”

Sebastian’s signature smirk returned as he appeared relieved by the olive branch you’d extended. “Hopefully this time around we’ll have a little less death and destruction.”

“Oh, where’s the fun in that?” you teased. “What’s a few more ruined lives?”

---

In the weeks that followed, you and Oliver settled nicely into life in Feldcroft. You found ways to keep yourself busy while he was at work and the other villagers eventually grew to recognize and greet you as one of their own.

You also became friendly with Sebastian and Wendy, though the sight of them together made your eyes darken and your stomach lurch.

You came to understand their routine, too. Sebastian would disappear for work, sometimes for several days at a time, leaving Wendy to tend to the cottage and water her stupid rose bushes when she returned home from work in the evenings. Sometimes she'd stop you for a chat, asking you about your day. You couldn't help but feel judged for the way you'd tell her about your trips to the store or the long walks you'd take. You wondered if she judged you for being a housewife, though she never made any disparaging remarks. Still, it made you want to poison her stupid rose bushes.

It wasn’t fair, the way you longed for her demise, and you knew it. Wendy seemed like a perfectly nice woman who had simply been lucky enough to win Sebastian over. The important thing was that she made Sebastian happy, or so you assumed. You couldn’t imagine they’d be expecting a child together if they were unhappy.

But one evening, your curiosity piqued as you left your cottage for the produce stand on the edge of town. As you locked the door, the sounds of shouts echoed from Sebastian’s home. You froze, your ears focused on the voices. One was clearly Wendy’s, the other’s presumably Sebastian’s. You didn’t want to eavesdrop, but you also wanted to ensure no one was in danger.

Quietly, you lingered beside Wendy’s stupid rose bush, your ears still straining to listen. Wendy’s anger was evident in the shrill pitch of her voice, but you couldn’t make out all the words – just something along the lines of, “What kind of father…”

No. You shook your head and forced yourself to continue your route to the shop. Sebastian and Wendy’s disagreements were none of your business.

But as you reached the path that connected your cottage to the remainder of the town, the sharp bang of a slamming door made you jump. You spun and spotted Sebastian storming out of his cottage, his expression contorted in frustration. He froze when he spotted you, his posture becoming less rigid.

You cursed under your breath as Sebastian approached. Should you admit you’d overheard anything? Should you play dumb? Would he think you were eavesdropping on purpose?

“Need some company?” he asked.

“Oh. I- er… sure. I was just walking to the produce stand. Need some carrots,” you replied. Sebastian merely nodded, his jawline looking taut as he gestured for you to continue walking.

“So I suppose you couldn’t help but overhear all that,” he said as he fell into step next to you.

“Sebastian, it’s none of my business-”

“It’s okay,” Sebastian continued. “We just argue like that sometimes. I say something stupid that Wendy doesn’t like and it escalates into a shouting match.”

“You, say something stupid? Never.” You cast a nervous glance at Sebastian, hoping your jest didn’t upset him more. His lips curved into a small smile.

“I guess you’ve been in Wendy’s shoes a few times, haven’t you? And I was the one who put you there,” he said quietly.

“Sebastian, that’s not what I meant.”

“I know. I just…” he sighed, his eyes shifting upward as if the answers to his problems were spelled in the sky. “I just wish Wendy understood my past.”

“Does she know… about Solomon?” you asked carefully. Sebastian shook his head.

“No. She only knows he died when I was fifteen.”

“Oh.”

“She doesn’t understand why…” Sebastian squeezed his eyes closed for a fleeting moment, willing the words to surface. “She doesn’t understand why I’m afraid to be a father.”

You let his statement settle before you gazed at him with empathy. “Does she know about your parents?” you asked.

“Yes. She knows. Honestly, my frustration with her isn’t even her lack of understanding, considering she doesn’t know how or why Solomon died. It’s more about the hostility she shows when I try to discuss it with her. She becomes so angry and says hurtful things. It’s like she cares more about becoming a mother than she does having a happy family.”

You didn’t want to take sides in an argument that had nothing to do with you, especially when you knew one party much better than the other. But you couldn’t help but sympathize with Sebastian's situation.

Of course he was fearful about being a parent. His own died, leaving him and Anne behind at an age too young to fend for themselves. They’d left him with Solomon, a man too angry and bitter about his own life to properly care for two children. Then Anne was cursed, leaving Sebastian as the only person willing to fight for her.

Then there was Sebastian’s dark past. Though he’d worked hard to right his wrongdoings, you knew he was still bothered by them, still fearful of the sinister acts he was capable of.

Sebastian’s hesitations were fair and you understand why he had them. 

“Sebastian, you’re going to be an amazing dad,” you said assuredly. “I know your past has you scared, but you aren’t that person anymore. You can’t punish yourself forever. You deserve a good life, and so do your children.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course.” You turned your head to look him in the eye to emphasize your sincerity. “Sebastian, despite your past – and ours – you’ve always been one of the best men I know. You might be stubborn as hell, but you’re also fiercely loyal. You’re smart when you aren’t impulsive, and your intentions are always noble. You'll be a tremendous father.”

Sebastian nodded quietly as he considered your words. He wasn’t surprised you understood his concerns. You always understood. 

“I just don’t want to let anymore people down,” he said quietly.

“You won’t,” you said confidently. “You’ve learned from your mistakes, which is going to make you a great father.”

“Thank you,” he said as the two of you reached the produce cart. “For being understanding about everything. You’re the last person who should have anything nice to say about me.”

“Sebastian, we were teenagers,” you said as you tossed a bundle of carrots into your basket. 

“But I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought I was doing you a favor.”

“A favor?” You couldn’t help but snort as you paid the shopkeeper. “How was breaking up with me a favor?”

“I guess I was still punishing myself,” Sebastian replied. “I knew you were destined to do great things in a society full of lofty expectations. I thought being tied to me would bring you down.”

“A lot of good that did me,” you said, forcing an ironic laugh.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Sebastian said quietly. 

You offered him a sad smile and a gentle touch to the forearm. “It’s okay,” you said with certainty. “All water under the bridge.”

Sebastian nodded in appreciation as the two of you headed back toward your homes.

“So what about you and Oliver?” he asked. “Do the two of you plan on having children?”

You pursed your lips, unsure of how to answer. But given how Sebastian had just opened up to you about his marriage, you decided you could do the same. 

“It’s complicated,” you started. You could feel Sebastian’s eyes drift toward you with curiosity. “Oliver doesn’t want children. I didn’t know that when we got married and I haven’t been successful in changing his mind.”

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian said, his voice tinged with sadness. “You’d be a wonderful mother.”

“It’s okay. I’m starting to accept it,” you said with a shrug. You didn't dare allow Sebastian to see the tears that welled in your eyes.

As you neared your cottages, Sebastian heaved a sigh. “Well, I suppose I’d better go accept my punishment,” he said, his voice laced with bitterness. He rested a gentle hand on your shoulder that lingered for a fleeting second. “Thank you for… you know.” 

You nodded in quiet, mutual understanding and offered him an encouraging smile. “Anytime.”

In the weeks that followed, Oliver’s absence became more prominent. The previous hour or so he’d turn up late after work had stretched into several hours. Once or twice, he failed to come at all and claimed he was called away on last-minute business, or was simply too exhausted and had slept in his office at the Ministry.

You had no proof, but you knew better. Your instincts told you he was with someone else, but you had no means of confirmation. Yet despite your nagging concerns over your husband’s whereabouts, your mind was more occupied with the man living next door.

Your evening rendezvous on the lookout tower with Sebastian became a frequent occurrence. When he was home and Wendy had fallen asleep, the two of you would sit on the tower together. Sometimes you’d chat the entire time, reminiscing about your Hogwarts days. Other times, you’d sit in silence for stretches and merely appreciate each other’s presence. It was nice to have a friend, even if that friend had a wife you wished would fall into a sinkhole.

One evening, you sat alone on the tower, wondering where your husband was this time. He should have been home three hours ago and you hadn’t received a word from him. 

The familiar sound of Sebastian’s tread carried up the tower’s steps and you straightened in your seat as he emerged at the top, his hands stuff casually in his pockets.

“There you are,” you greeted.

“There you are.”

Typically, your mutual greeting made you smile, but Oliver’s antics weighed heavy in your chest as you wondered what to do about him. Though you had come to accept his infidelities, you weren’t sure how to confront him without proof, and you didn’t know what that would mean for your future. 

You weren’t scared of the shame that would accompany a failed marriage – your reputation had been dragged around your entire life and you knew you’d recover. But Oliver and his rules had made it so you weren’t financially independent. Without him, you’d have no home, and you had no job to earn your own income. He had made it so that you needed him.

Sebastian recognized your tense demeanor immediately. “Something wrong?” he asked, peering downward at you in concern.

You swallowed, unsure how to reply. Sure, Sebastian was your friend again. He’d been your only friend since you moved to Feldcroft. But you weren’t sure you should reveal the latest details of your troubled marriage with him. Was it appropriate? Did he even care? Were you crossing a line?

“I’m fine,” you answered with a shrug. “Just tired is all.”

“Liar.”

You looked up in surprise. He looked concerned, yet you could see the faintest trace of smugness. He could still see through you and it was clear he enjoyed it. 

That was the toughest and easiest part of your relationship with Sebastian, even after all these years. You couldn’t keep secrets because the two of you could read each other in ways no one else could.

You heaved a sigh as you tried to decide which detail to reveal first. Sebastian seemed to understand you were struggling, so he took a seat on the crate across from you and waited patiently.

“It’s Oliver,” you started. You paused, waiting for Sebastian to interject with some kind of snarky remark, but he remained quiet, nodding at you to continue. “He’s been… pretty absent lately. He gets home from work hours late, or sometimes he doesn’t come home at all.”

“You think he has someone else,” Sebastian said blankly. 

“I don’t have proof.”

“You’re sure he isn’t simply putting extra hours in at work? Wendy does that for the extra pay. Says we could use it when the baby arrives.”

“I don’t know. Like I said, I can’t prove anything. All I have is my gut instinct.”

“And what is your instinct telling you?”

“That something isn’t right.”

Sebastian sat back, his hands resting on his knees as he considered his words carefully. “Is there a specific person in mind?” he asked. “Do you know who the other woman might be?”

“No idea. Outside of his family and me, Oliver doesn’t really spend time with anyone else. Most of his friends are through work and I don’t really know most of them.”

Sebastian exhaled slowly through his nose. You were surprised by the way his jaw seemed to twitch, a familiar tell that signaled he was trying to suppress his rage.

“You don’t deserve that,” Sebastian said quietly, his eyes wandering toward the sky that was shifting to nighttime.

“I don’t know, maybe I do,” you admitted. “It’s not like I married Oliver because he’s the love of my life. Maybe this is payback for that.”

“Why did you marry him then?” Sebastian asked sharply. 

“Because he was safe,” you answered. “And because I lost my way. I lost myself when I met him. I had grown so used to taking care of myself that I thought I wanted someone to take care of me for a change. Oliver takes care of me, even if I’m not the only woman in his life. He’ll always come back to me.”

“You deserve to be the only woman in his life. And you deserve to be with someone you genuinely love,” Sebastian said quietly.

“I guess I just didn’t get that lucky."

The revelation was a sad truth you had never admitted out loud. You were grateful for the things you had, but many people mistook your life for something glamorous. They deemed you lucky – you were born with a rare, powerful ancient magic. You were declared a hero by your school, your name famous to all who passed through Hogwarts. You married a respected man with money so that you didn’t have to work.

Nevermind the omnipresent burden you had carried since the day you learned of Isidora Morganach and the repository. Nevermind the way people stared and whispered when they recognized you. Nevermind your loveless marriage that isolated you from the friends and career you wanted. Nevermind the fact your neighbor was the only person you ever loved.

To everyone else, you had it good. For all you cared, your life peaked years ago.

Sebastian was looking at you with a deep frown, an expression you chalked up to pity. 

“So what are you going to do?” he finally asked.

“I don’t know,” was the best you could offer. “He’s made me too dependent on him to leave him. I don’t have a job. I’d have nothing, nowhere to go. I’d have to start all over.”

“Would a fresh start be all that bad?”

It was a simple question, but the answer felt heavy. It was true, you only stayed with Oliver for the convenience. The two of you were compatible enough for a pleasant relationship, but you certainly didn’t feel any overwhelming love and adoration for him.

Leaving Oliver could lead you to someone you did love properly, and vice versa. Perhaps you could start a career and build a life you felt proud of. But leaving Oliver could also mean something much worse, and being with him wasn’t the most miserable life you could dream up.

“I don’t have any proof that he’s having an affair,” you repeated. “And I can’t just leave him without reason.”

“You aren’t happy,” Sebastian pointed out. “Isn’t that reason enough?”

You wanted to agree with him. You wanted to put yourself first and give yourself the opportunity for the life you wanted – even if the one you’d always envisioned included the man sitting across from you. But you knew simply wanting a better life wasn’t enough. There were rules and expectations in your society. Leaving your husband simply due to unhappiness would blacklist you immediately. Though you didn’t care about the parties and decorum, a tarnished reputation could make life miserable. A proper divorce would require a legitimate reason.

“I’d need to catch him cheating,” you said. “I’d need a valid excuse for divorce.”

“So then let’s catch him.”

“What? How?”

“We follow him,” Sebastian said simply.

“Sebastian,” you said, your tone laced with warning and hesitation. It felt eerily reminiscent of your Hogwarts days, particularly your fifth year when the two of you were prone to risky adventures and questionable decisions. “We can’t just stalk my husband in hopes of catching him in the act.”

“Why not? We’ve done it before.”

“That was when we were children.” You couldn’t help but huff a laugh. “It was unwise tracking poachers and Ranrok’s loyalists then, and it’d be unwise tracking my cheating husband now."

“So you’re just going to sit back and do nothing, let him get away with it while you pine for the life you deserve?” Sebastian asked, his tone reflecting his obvious irritation. “You really have changed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re backing down from a challenge,” Sebastian said. He leaned back on the crate with his arms crossed. “And worse, you’re backing down from standing for what’s right.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it? Because the version of you I used to know never would have sat in silence when faced with injustice. Even when I killed Solomon, you only decided to protect me because of Anne.”

“I protected you because I loved you.” The words left your lips before you could think better of it, and you bit the inside of your cheek in instant regret. Sebastian failed to maintain a stoic expression, frowning as the statement stirred more guilt inside him. 

The comfortable bond the two of you had built over the past few weeks was compromised as the silence that fell between you felt somber.

After several moments of internal struggle, Sebastian sighed and leaned forward on the crate, his elbows resting on his knees.

“All I’m saying,” he finally started, “Is that I’ve seen you fight some of the most dangerous people and creatures on Earth. I’ve seen you keep your composure and resolve under unfathomable circumstances, and you never took the easy way out by compromising your morals. You’ve done immeasurable things for other people out of love, but that should include yourself, too.”

“Even if I wanted to end things with Oliver and catch him cheating, I can’t exactly just cast disillusionment charm and expect to trail him around the Ministry all day,” you said.

“You’re right, you can’t,” Sebastian agreed. “Good thing I have a better idea.”

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” you muttered. It was the following morning and you were standing in Sebastian’s cottage as he rummaged through a trunk in his bedroom. As he searched, your eyes drifted around the room.

It was different from the last time you were there. There was much more decor, surely Wendy’s doing. A coat rack in the corner held a pink sweater that you decided was ugly before Sebastian's voice pulled you from your judgmental musings.

“Ah, here it is,” he said, pulling a shimmering cloak from the trunk. “Haven’t needed it in quite some time.”

“And where did you get an invisibility cloak anyway?” you demanded. 

“Found it on one of my work assignments,” Sebastian said proudly. He pulled the trunk around his body so that only his head remained in view. “See? Much better than any disillusionment spell.”

“And you expect to just trail Oliver around the Ministry all day while we huddle beneath that cloak?”

“Of course not. We’ll hide in his office and wait until the end of the work day, see where he goes.”

“And how do you expect to get inside his office? We can’t just waltz into the Department of International Magical Cooperation.”

“Good thing we know someone else who works at the Ministry,” Sebastian said smugly.

“Oh Sebastian, we can’t drag Wendy into this-”

“Not Wendy,” Sebastian cut in. “I’ve not said a word to her. She’s been too stressed to think straight lately, with the baby coming.”

“Who then?”

Sebastian smiled at you. “You’ll see.”

You and Sebastian waited until noon to apparate to the Ministry to ensure you’d arrived while Wendy was on her lunch break. Once you were past the reception desk, you stepped into the lift and Sebastian led you to Basement Level II. 

“Department of Magical Law Enforcement?” you hissed as you stepped off the lift. “Sebastian, what are we doing here? What are you going to do, have Oliver arrested?”

“Believe me, if infidelity were a crime, I would.” He glanced at his pocketwatch before leading you toward an inconspicuous door at the end of the corridor, guiding you inside.

“Sebastian, this is a broom closet. What the hell-”

“You’ll see.”

“It’s dark and it smells in here. I-” The door swung open and you froze as you took in the newcomer’s appearance. “Ominis?”

Your former friend looked amused. “The two of you hiding away inside a broom closet. It really is like old times,” he said. Sebastian ushered him inside and shut the door with a quiet snap as you blushed. “I should have known it would be some precarious, covert mission that would reunite the two of you.”

You threw your arms around him in a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

Ominis hugged you back, pulling away to smile at you. “While I’m also thrilled for this reunion, I must say, the circumstances are concerning – again, not that I’m surprised given that it concerns you two,” he said.

“Sebastian didn’t give you the details?”

“Sebastian, provide details before doing something potentially stupid and risky? Have you forgotten the past?”

You laughed, relieved that Ominis hadn’t changed, before you launched into an explanation of why you were currently hiding in a broom closet inside the Ministry of Magic with your two former closest friends. When your explanation was complete, Ominis’ expression was ambiguous.

He heaved a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You don’t deserve that,” Ominis said with an air of sadness. “I’ve run into Oliver a few times for work purposes and I never found him as charismatic or astute as he seems to think he is. You deserve better than him." You opened your mouth to respond, but Ominis continued, his expression shifting to something more serious. “You two do realize this is utterly insane,” he said. You and Sebastian swapped a glance but said nothing. “I could jeopardize my standing with the Wizengamot if anyone finds out I helped you two sneak into Oliver’s office.”

“Which is why no one’s going to find out,” Sebastian said simply.

Ominis sighed and you couldn’t help but smile at the familiarity of it all. You and Sebastian, tasking a reluctant Ominis to help you carry out a daring task that could get all three of you into trouble... 

“Just like old times,” Sebastian quipped, as if he could read your mind.

“All right,” Ominis said. “You have the cloak?” 

“I do.”

“Well put it on then. I’ll show you where to go and get you into Oliver’s office, but consider my involvement complete after that,” Ominis said.

“Yes, sir.” Sebastian draped the cloak around himself and then motioned for you to step closer. You froze. You hadn’t been that close to Sebastian in years. Ominis quirked an eyebrow as if he could sense your discomfort but said nothing.

You moved closer to Sebastian and he draped the cloak around you. The proximity made you tense, beads of sweat forming on your forehead as the scent of Sebastian’s cologne found you.

Fearful Sebastian would hear your heavy breaths, you kept your jaw clenched as Ominis swung the closet door open.

Once certain no one else was in sight, Ominis strolled toward the lift, where you and Sebastian squeezed into a corner to avoid detection by its other occupants. As more wizards and witches filed in, Sebastian pressed up against you, the two of you so close you could feel his chest heaving. His frame felt much sturdier than his teenage self and it made you want to snake your arms around him, to feel how much he had changed with the palms of your hands.

Once the lift reached Basement Level 5, Ominis strode to the corridor that led to the Department of International Cooperation’s International Magical Trading Standards Body offices, where Oliver worked.

Ominis offered polite greetings to passerby until he reached a row of doors. He glanced around to see if anyone was nearby, but the department was largely vacant due to the lunch hour. He knocked gently on the second door and waited until he was sure no one was inside to answer it. He cracked open the door just wide enough for you and Sebastian to file inside.

“Oliver, you in here?” Ominis called out as he stuck his head inside the office for good measure. He paused to give you and Sebastian time to slip inside before he muttered, “Must be at lunch. I’ll come back later.” 

The door snapped shut and you and Sebastian exhaled a simultaneous breath. “We did it,” Sebastian said.

“Yes, but now we have to wait,” you said. “Perhaps we should sit in that corner, there. I doubt anyone would venture over there. We can sit comfortably and stay hidden beneath the cloak.”

Sebastian nodded in agreement and the two of you retreated to the corner of the room where you sat on the floor, your backs against the walls. 

You took a moment to gaze around Oliver’s office. You’d never been there before, but it appeared to be an accurate reflection of him. A stately chesterfield sofa sat against the wall, a stack of books neatly placed on the table next to it. Various quidditch team pennants hung neatly on the walls and Oliver’s school quidditch trophies gleamed on the top shelf of a bookcase. 

Sitting on the corner of Oliver’s desk was a single frame that contained a portrait of you. 

You studied the photo of yourself, watching the woman in the frame wave and flash a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes.

The adrenaline rush of sneaking through the halls of the Ministry of Magic was suddenly replaced by a surge of sadness as you remembered why you were there to begin with.

Oliver wasn’t the love of your life. After two years of marriage, you merely tolerated him most days, maybe liked him on your best days. Losing him wouldn’t destroy you – not in the way losing Sebastian did. But still, Oliver was your husband, and you’d be a liar to deny the hurt his infidelity would cause.

Sebastian stirred next to you. You couldn’t help but smile as you remembered how the teenage version of him couldn’t sit still for too long without fidgeting. 

“So tell me,” you said quietly, keeping your eyes on the door for any sign of movement. “What name do you have picked out for the baby?”

“Well, if it’s a boy, he’s got to be Sebastian Jr.” 

“Then let’s hope it’s not a boy,” you quipped, drawing a grin from Sebastian.

“And if it’s a girl… I’m not sure. Wendy and I are sort of at odds over the name.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, she likes the name Doris,” Sebastian said. “Which is a fine name and all, but I’d like to name her some iteration of Anne. Maybe Anne-Marie.”

“Of course,” you smiled. “Anne’s perfect.”

“The truth is, I’m not sure how much longer Anne has left,” Sebastian said, his expression becoming serious. “The curse has really worn her down in the last five years. She’s so frail now, and she just doesn’t have the same fiery spirit. She’s tired of fighting.”

“Oh, Sebastian,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“She’ll keep fighting as long as she can, because that’s who she is, but I can tell it’s wearing on her.”

“She’s one of the toughest people I’ve ever met. And probably the only person more stubborn than you,” you said with a sad smile. “I’m sure she’d love to have a little niece with her namesake. And I’m sure any kid of yours will be just as gutsy as Anne is.”

“You’re damn right,” Sebastian said proudly.

The two of you fell quiet for a moment, the hum of the Ministry's offices echoing to fill the space. You thought about how bizarre your current scenario was. A few months ago, you’d have thought you’d gone mad if you had told yourself you were going to reunite with Sebastian Sallow and sneak through the Ministry of Magic to stalk your potentially cheating husband. 

“Thank you for coming with me,” you said softly. “You didn’t have to do all this for me.”

“I’d do anything for you, you know that. Just because we broke up doesn’t mean we stopped being kindred spirits.”

His words made your chest contort. Even when he belonged to someone else, even when he was set to start a family with her, he still cared about you. It would have been beautiful if it wasn’t quite so heartbreaking.

“I’m glad such a bizarre twist of fate made us neighbors,” you managed with a soft laugh.

“Indeed. Life wasn’t the same without you.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” you laughed again. “Though it was much more stable and my stress levels dropped considerably.”

“That’s an interesting way of saying life was boring without me,” Sebastian mused. “Though I could say the same.”  He cast a sideways glance at you, studying your expression from the corner of his eye for a moment. “My biggest regret in life is walking away from you, you know.”

Your chest caved at his statement and you swallowed, praying he couldn’t hear the way your heart threatened to hammer itself out of your chest. Part of you wanted Sebastian to continue spilling his innermost thoughts, to learn more about how he felt about you; the other part wanted him to shut the fuck up before he broke your heart all over again.

You dared to tilt your head to look at him and were surprised to find he was looking directly at you, too. You wondered if the sadness in his gaze mirrored your own, but you said nothing. Instead, you could feel him breathing as your treasonous mind made you wonder how it would feel to kiss him again.

You determinedly averted your eyes from his lips, refusing to reveal what was on your mind. You held Sebastian’s gaze as long as you could, as if his thoughts might permeate your own if you looked hard enough. You could see the familiar traces of affection in his eyes that once overwhelmed you with love.

But before any more thoughts could be expressed, the doorknob twisted. You and Sebastian both straightened, your eyes darting to the door as you held your breath. It was still 20 minutes until 1 p.m., meaning Oliver was returning from lunch early.

He strolled in with an aggravated expression that made you frown in confusion. But the answer revealed itself sooner than you ever could have imagined.

The clack of heels on the stone floor echoed their way toward the office, indicating a woman was close behind him. Your gaze darkened as you prepared yourself for the woman who was likely your rival.

You weren’t prepared to see Wendy Sallow.

Sebastian tensed immediately next to you, so you did the only thing that calmed him back when you were teenagers. You placed a gentle hand on top of his knee and gave it a gentle squeeze, silently begging him not to act. His breath hitched and you clenched your jaw.

“Oliver, we’re running out of time,” Wendy said with a frustrated tone. Oliver shot her a sharp glare and waved his wand, the door swinging shut with a firm snap.

“I’m aware of that,” Oliver replied curtly, gesturing toward Wendy’s pregnant stomach. “But I don’t know what you expect me to do about it.”

“You said you were going to leave her.”

“I said I’d consider it, and in due time,” Oliver responded irritably. “I didn’t say I’d do it so soon. And I certainly didn’t expect you to end up pregnant.”

“Well, this baby should be all the reason you need,” Wendy said. “You promised you’d take care of me – and our child.”

The room seemed to tilt, Oliver and Wendy’s bickering becoming a low background whir that your brain threatened to tune out as the reality of the situation unraveled itself at the expense of your nervous system. Your chest felt so tight, you wondered if you were suffering from cardiac arrest, and you suddenly felt so hot, you were certain the building was on fire.

Meanwhile, Sebastian was rigid next to you. Your heart dropped as the reality sank in. Sebastian would walk away from this moment with more scars than you. You had entered that office prepared to learn of your spouse’s infidelities, but Sebastian hadn’t. He was supposed to be the innocent, third party in all of this.

You realized you had to keep your composure in order for Sebastian to keep his. You had to silently convince him to control his emotions before he gave you both away.

The hand that rested atop his knee found his hand instead. You gripped it tightly, squeezing hard to send the message. You didn’t dare glance at Sebastian, fearful that doing so might evoke his rage, or your tears.

“And I will take care of you, darling,” Oliver said, crossing the office to place his hands on both sides of Wendy’s waist. “And our child.” He placed a gentle hand on Wendy’s stomach and you started to feel nauseous.

For two years, Oliver refused to father a child with you, and you were his wife . He had given you a barrage of excuses, claiming he wanted your attention all to himself, or that children were a tremendous financial burden. 

This was an act of betrayal beyond any pain you’d ever felt. Worst of all, Sebastian had to share in it. Even now, all these years later when the two of you had built separate lives, your pain was mutual. It was beginning to feel like you and Sebastian were linked for life.

Suddenly, you let out a quiet gasp as you felt it. All of the fury and pain inside of you had clashed and boiled. It was currently coursing through your veins in the form of your ancient magic. 

You could feel the familiar tingle rush through your fingertips and you dug your nails into the back of Sebastian’s hand to send him a warning. He cast a sideways glance at you and understood what was happening. He'd seen it before. He shifted, reaching in his pocket for his wand to ready himself. Though you could control your ancient magic, you couldn’t hide it, and anyone in your vicinity would be able to feel it.

The room’s atmosphere began to shift, the air becoming heavy as your ancient magic rolled through it. The background sounds of conversation, footsteps and rustling parchment fizzled as the hum of your magic swelled. Oliver and Wendy both froze as they felt it, the hairs on their arms standing upright.

Your magic caused the invisibility cloak to flutter, its fabric dancing in the sunlight that drifted through the window curtains. It was enough to catch Oliver’s eye and you watched as his hand disappeared into his robes. He sent a basic cast toward your corner that narrowly missed your head.

You and Sebastian dove in separate directions, the cloak falling to a pile on the floor. The room grew quiet as Oliver and Wendy watched in shock while you and Sebastian climbed to your feet.

“What in Merlin’s name-” Oliver started.

“Sebastian?” Wendy gasped.

Sebastian didn’t speak, a rare change in his usual demeanor, but the severity of his gaze was perilous. His chest heaved and his fingers gripped his wand so tight, his knuckles were white.

“How long?” you finally asked, shifting your gaze to Oliver who still looked stunned. “How long have the two of you…”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Oliver demanded.

“Sebastian, love, it’s not what it looks like,” Wendy interjected. She moved toward Sebastian, her hands outstretched and her doe eyes wide as they silently pleaded with him. 

“Don’t,” was all Sebastian said, his voice steady but quiet.

Wendy whimpered. If you hadn’t been so furious, you might have laughed at her. 

“How did you get in here?” Oliver continued. “How long have you been here? Were you following me?”

“I said, how long have the two of you been doing this?” you repeated. 

Oliver appeared to be searching his mind for explanations, but he knew you were too smart to entertain any of them.

“Darling,” he started. “It’s not what you think. It’s much more complicated-”

“I think you’ve been having an affair for quite some time,” you said. “But I didn’t expect it to be with our neighbor.” Your ancient magic surrounded you with a blue haze as you glared at Oliver. “Is that why you moved us to Feldcroft? So you could be closer to her? So that you could see your child?”

“How do you know it’s his?” Sebastian suddenly asked, his gaze on Wendy. “How can you be sure it’s not mine?”

“Sebastian-” Wendy started, her eyes sparkling with tears.

“Answer me.”

Wendy recoiled, her heels clicking on the stone floors as she lingered next to Oliver. “I’m sure,” she squeaked. “It happened when you were away… in Portugal. I know it’s his because you and I hadn’t-” She let out a sob that made you flinch.

“So this has been going on for months,” you said blankly. “And what were you two going to do when the baby arrived?” You turned on Wendy, your glare brimming with disgust. “Were you just going to allow Sebastian to believe it’s his?”

“I…” Wendy’s sniffled. “Oliver said he was going to be with me. I was going to tell Sebastian then.” Her eyes pleaded with Sebastian. “I didn’t mean to cause any harm. I just… Oliver said he would take care of me. I just wanted to be taken care of.”

It was a jarring realization for you. The life you had grown to detest was the life Wendy wanted. You dreamed of a career, a husband who understood you and a family to call your own. Wendy wanted to stay home and be doted over. It was as if the two of you had ended up in the other’s fairytale.

The hurt in Sebastian’s eyes broke your heart. You hated how unfair life had been to him. Dead parents, a cursed sister, a cruel uncle who never wanted him. Sebastian had worked hard to make up for his past, but now life had betrayed him with an unfaithful wife and a child that wasn’t his.

“I don’t understand,” you finally said, frowning as you tried to make sense of the entire situation. “There were nights… times when you’d come home late, Oliver. But Wendy… I’d see you at home with Sebastian.”

Oliver and Wendy swapped a glance and your braced yourself for more bad news.

“Our townhome in London…” Oliver said. “I… I didn’t actually sell it. It’s still mine. Sometimes I’d stay there after we… I just couldn’t face you, darling.”

“Couldn’t face me,” you repeated blankly. “So you could have an affair with another woman – our neighbor – but couldn’t come home and look me in the eye when you were done fucking her?”

“Oh, don’t act so innocent,” Wendy spat. You flinched at her sudden outburst, her tone reaching a new shrill. “I’ve seen you and Sebastian sneaking away to have private little conversations about your past. Don’t think I didn’t know about the two of you. Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you looked at each other, like two lovesick puppies.”

“Nothing has happened between us since we were eighteen,” you said, glaring at Wendy. “Sebastian has always been faithful to you.”

Wendy forced a laugh. “Sebastian hasn’t touched me since you moved next door,” she said. “At first I thought it was because of my pregnancy, but then I saw the way he’d look at you, the way he’d rather spend time with you. It was never about me. It was always you.”

Sebastian opened his mouth to speak but Oliver cut him off.

“I know all about you, Sallow,” Oliver said. “Your dead parents and shamed uncle who was ousted by the Ministry. Your cursed sister stuck in St. Mungo’s. You can’t give your wife a life worth anything.”

The entire time, you had been worried for the way Sebastian might act. You didn’t consider your own reaction. But your ancient magic surged again, ignited by Oliver’s harsh words toward Sebastian, sparking a sudden crackle over the room you couldn’t control.

Oliver recoiled at the sound, mistaking it for an attack from Sebastian. He hit Sebastian with a basic cast, which sent him backward. 

“Oliver!” you hissed, moving to check on Sebastian, who scrambled to his feet. Before you could beg him to refrain, Sebastian retaliated with Diffindo. Oliver spun from the red flash that sliced toward him, but it nicked him across the torso while Wendy let out a scream.

The conversation was over. It was now going to end in a duel and a peculiar twist of fate, with you and Sebastian against your husband. 

Sebastian cast a barrage of spells at Oliver that sent parchment and paperwork flying. Oliver managed a Protego charm, its rebound causing the spells to ricochet throughout the office. One skimmed the top of Oliver’s desk, sending its content scattering, while another careened into the bookcase, smashing his trophies. Your eyes shifted to Wendy, who continued to scream. You refused to attack a pregnant woman, but pointed your wand at her in case she dared to attack Sebastian.

“Go,” you ordered. “Get the fuck out of here and stay away from Sebastian. I don’t want to ever see you again.”

She blinked in disbelief, but scurried for the door, the clack of her heels echoing until the sound faded down the corridor. Oliver had moved toward the door to follow her, but Sebastian remained on him, his force of spells driving him backward into the hall.

“Sebastian!” you shouted, following after them. “Sebastian, stop! We’re in the Ministry. The aurors will be on you in a heartbeat.”

He didn’t listen. You watched as he sent a Confringo spell at Oliver, which deflected into a row of desks, setting them ablaze. A handful of workers who had returned from lunch were backed up against the dark stone walls, their eyes wide as they took in the scene.

“Sebastian, you can’t!” you begged. “Think of Anne. Think of Ominis… think of me.” 

You don’t know what made you say it. After all, you and Sebastian had only reconnected recently. He had been the one who left you five years ago, so you didn’t know why you thought he’d care about you now.

But he was here with you. He’d been the one to plan this entire day and help you get answers about Oliver long before he had any idea his own wife was involved.

Sebastian paused for a fleeting moment, his eyes drifting to you with understanding. Time seemed to slow when your gazes locked and you begged Sebastian with your eyes to come to his senses.

His pause gave Oliver just enough time to react.

“Incarcerous!” Ropes shot from Oliver’s wand, whipping through the air until they coiled tightly around Sebastian. He fell over, writhing on the floor as he struggled against them.

And before you could stop to reflect, your ancient magic acted on your behalf. You didn’t need your wand as the blue static enveloped you, illuminating your frame. One dismissive flick of your hand blasted Oliver backward until his body skidded across the floor against the far wall in a heap.

Your eyes scanned the room for any more potential threats, but you noticed it had cleared out. You turned to Sebastian and waved your hand again, the ropes disintegrating as you knelt next to him.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You stared at one another, unsure what to say or what to do next. “We should go,” you finally said. 

“Right.” You helped Sebastian to his feet and he cleared his throat. The awkward tension wasn’t lost on either of you, but Sebastian took your hand and apparated, leaving the Ministry behind with a sharp crack.

Eighteen months later

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You froze in your tracks, a tiny smile forming across your lips before you turned to face your husband.

“I was just going out front,” you said innocently. “The daylilies need watering.”

“You’re supposed to be on bed rest,” Sebastian said, his arms folded across his chest as if he were stern with you.

“I’m fine,” you groaned. “The doctor told me to take it easy. I’m simply tending to my garden, not dueling any poachers.”

“You’re nine months pregnant. You need to stay off your feet.”

“I’m going to hex you off your feet if you don’t back off.”

Sebastian smirked and took a step toward you. “That’s exactly the kind of attitude that got you pregnant in the first place.” He reached for your arm and gently tugged you closer, his arms wrapping around you despite your large belly keeping you separate.

“Just let me water the daylilies first.”

Sebastian relented and followed you outside, where you used Aguamenti to water the bright flowers you had planted to replace the rose bushes. You smiled to yourself as you let the peaceful scene settle around you. You’d picked daylilies for their resilience – beautiful, yet tough as nails and difficult to kill. They were a symbolic reflection of both you and Sebastian, as well as your relationship. 

You moved into Sebastian’s cottage shortly after your divorce with Oliver was finalized. Your relationship didn’t rekindle immediately after that day you discovered Oliver and Wendy’s affair at the Ministry of Magic. You hadn’t expected it to.

Instead, you and Sebastian both needed time to heal from your broken marriages. You recovered quicker, given that your marriage had been built on convenience, but Sebastian needed more time to grieve. Not only had he been betrayed by his wife, he had to accept her child was never his.

You were patient with Sebastian, careful to give him all the time he needed to mend. Though you were hopeful time would heal the wounds and bring you two together again, you made sure to keep your proper distance. 

Eventually, you and Sebastian fell into a comfortable routine. Ominis introduced you to the head of the Ministry’s Auror Division, which eventually led to a spot with the Muggle Prime Minister’s security detail. Sebastian helped you regain your strength and skills as the two of you sparred in friendly duels in a fields west of Feldcroft. You finally had started the career you wanted with hopes you’d someday advance from protecting the prime minister to hunting down and catching dark wizards. 

You and Sebastian spent your evenings talking quietly, cozied up next to the fire. You’d lounge on the sofa and he’d sit opposite of you in an armchair, both of your noses in books. But eventually, Sebastian began to join you on the sofa, sitting next to you every night until you felt comfortable resting your head on his shoulder. Other times, he’d stretch out with his head in your lap.

Finally, the traces of pain left his eyes and he returned to his normal self. He had also filed for divorce and Wendy agreed without another word. The last you heard, she and Oliver moved into your old townhouse together and she gave birth to a baby girl she named Doris.

Your closeness with Sebastian returned with a blend of nostalgia and unfamiliarity. You joked and teased just like you did as teenagers, but your romance carried a new level of trust that surprised you. Sebastian broke your heart once, but the pain and anger you carried was long gone. Now, it was replaced with the mutual understanding that you and Sebastian had been given a second chance you both refused to ruin.

You fell in love again slowly, then all at once. You and Sebastian had gotten married a year ago.

Now, Sebastian leaned against the doorframe, smiling gently as he watched you quietly. You pretended not to notice at first, until you flicked your wand toward him to spray him with water.

“You little-”

You laughed as he lunged for you, pinning your arms behind your back so that you’d drop your wand. It clattered on the stone pathway and rolled toward the cottage next door. You and Sebastian watched in silence until it came to a stop a few feet from the house. Lights were on inside and you could hear laughter from the family who had moved in a few months back. They were an older couple with a pair of twins who attended Hogwarts.

“Not thinking about leaving me for the neighbor, are you?” Sebastian murmured in your ear. He stood behind you, pressed against your back so that he could place his hands on your pregnant belly.

“Hmm, not sure he’s my type,” you mused.

“Good. Because I’ve killed before and I’d do it again. Wendy didn’t deserve it, but you – I’d kill for you.”

“Sebastian!” You whirled around to scold him and he laughed, gently pulling you close again so that he could press a kiss to your forehead. You continued to glower at him until he bent down to retrieve your wand from the ground.

“You know,” he said as he steered you past the daylilies and back toward your cottage. “I never liked those roses anyway.”

Part II: There We Were Forever

(Smut warning - minors DNI)

One year later

“Is she asleep?”

You nodded quietly as you joined Sebastian in the kitchen to help him finish clearing the dinner dishes. 

“She’s out,” you said, waving your wand to send a stack of dishes toward the cupboard. You slowed your motion, moving your wand with precision until the plates settled with a quiet clink. “She was exhausted.”

“Good.” Sebastian tossed a dish rag on the counter and moved toward you, his hands resting on the small of your back as he kissed your temple. “I bet you’re exhausted too.”

You nodded. Motherhood was the toughest task you had ever faced, but you couldn’t be happier. Your 1-year-old daughter, Anne Marie, was your proudest accomplishment. 

“I’ll finish cleaning up,” Sebastian said. “You go relax.”

You smiled in gratitude and retreated to the sofa by the fireplace. It crackled quietly as you sank into the cozy cushions and closed your eyes. A gentle smile rested across your lips as you silently appreciated the moment. Just three years ago, you were still married to Oliver, trapped in a life you didn’t want. Now, you were happy and full of appreciation for all the moments – the good and bad – that had led you to this point.

Your eyes remained closed but you could sense motion nearby as Sebastian settled in beside you, his arm draping gently around your shoulders.

“You look like you’re about to fall asleep,” he mumbled in your ear before he nuzzled your neck. He left a trail of kisses from your collarbone, up your neck, to the soft patch of skin behind your ear.

Sleep sounded positively blissful, but not nearly as blissful as whatever it was Sebastian had in mind.

You tilted your head to the side to allow Sebastian more access to your neck. You could feel him smirk against your skin as he shifted his body to face you better, one hand resting atop your thigh.

He kissed you as if his lips were searching for something rare, though he’d kissed you like that just hours earlier before he left for work. Those same lips had spent the early hours of the morning between your thighs, ensuring you’d relax a little before your daughter awoke for the day.

Now, Sebastian’s hand inched higher beneath the hem of your dress, his thumb tracing lazy patterns across your skin as he continued to kiss you.

Your own hands gripped the front of Sebastian’s shirt, balling and tightening the white fabric in your fists to emphasize the sinful thoughts escalating inside your mind.

A whimper escaped your throat as Sebastian’s fingertips brushed against your panties covering your core. He shifted again until you were on your back, your head on the armrest on the couch as he loomed over you. 

He had you in a similar position in bed this morning, and the memory of it made you shift your hips as the familiar ache of lust swelled between your legs.

Sebastian’s fingers dragged against your panties again until you felt them inch to your hips, curling around the waistband on your side. He guided them downward, tossing them lazily on the floor as he returned his eyes to you.

Your own gaze fell to the bulge in his pants, which had the fabric so taut, it looked painful. You bit your lip as you eyed it, picturing Sebastian’s full, unclothed length in your mind despite having seen it countless times. 

You suddenly felt guilty as you remembered that Sebastian had only serviced you that morning. He had helped you achieve your own release – twice – but Anne Marie’s wails from across the hall interrupted you before you could return the favor.

Despite the positively anguishing ache that was coursing between your thighs, you started to sit up to take control. But Sebastian was in no mood for a fight.

“Bad idea, love,” he purred as he gently pushed your shoulder back down. You narrowed your eyes in protest, provoking a wolfish grin from him.

His hand snapped back to your entrance, and before you could protest, a finger was edging its way inside you. The best you could manage was a moan.

“That’s better,” Sebastian cooed as he slipped another finger inside. He pumped his hand, the friction of his calloused skin stimulating pure bliss against your slick interior in sweeping motions. “Just relax, my love. You deserve some rest.”

Sebastian used his thumb to drag circles over your clit as his index and middle fingers glided in and out of your entrance. You pushed back with your hips, guiding your most sensitive spot over his fingertips. He curled his fingers and you gasped at the welcome, warming sensation building there.

A few twists of his fingers and just the right amount of pressure from Sebastian’s thumb nudged you over the edge. A loud moan echoed through the living room as your walls clenched around Sebastian’s fingers, which continued their beckoning motion inside of you as they worked through your orgasm. They sank back inside of you, pressing into your soft core until your body relaxed around them.

His fingers were slick as he removed them to suck on them, his eyes dark with satisfaction at your submissive state.

“Now it’s my turn,” Sebastian said, sitting back as he unbuttoned his shirt. You used the time it took him to undress to catch your breath. Your eyes roamed his bare chest until he began kicking off his trousers, the sudden sight of his erection reenergizing your tired body.

It was an erotic vision that prompted your filthiest thoughts as all you could picture was the way you would stretch around him until he fucked you so hard, your knees collapsed.

You couldn’t believe you ever allowed yourself to tolerate another man.

“Come here,” Sebastian growled as he settled upright at the center of the sofa. You straddled his lap, using the scant remnants of self-control that remained to slowly ease yourself around his cock. Sebastian’s head fell backward to rest against the back of the sofa, his eyes falling shut at the sensation of your cunt surrounding him. “Going to reward me for my generosity this morning?” he asked.

You hummed a reply as you lifted your hips slowly, delighted by the sensation of your folds dragging along Sebastian’s length as you worked up and down with deliberation.

You leaned back slightly and Sebastian’s eyes fell open to gaze at you. He frowned as he realized you were still in your dress.

“This needs to go,” he said as his hands searched for the hem. Once he found it, he helped you yank the dress over your head until it heaped on the floor in one fluid swish of fabric. “Much better,” Sebastian mewed as his eyes fell to your breasts. He groaned in pleasure as they bounced when you sank downward again, his cock filling you entirely.

As you continued to lean backward, your fingers gripping the back of the sofa for leverage, the angle made your eyes roll back as you concentrated on the feeling of Sebastian’s tip plunging inside of you, pressing against that same spot that would make your toes curl.

"You're too fucking good at this," Sebastian hissed.

“Oh fuck,” you breathed as you could feel the familiar uprise of another orgasm. Its threat surfaced quickly and you had a momentary, fleeting thought of using a silencing charm the next time you decided to let Sebastian ruin you in the living room. That thought was interrupted by the eruption of pleasure that made your cunt contract.

"I'm coming," you whined as you sank down once more, Sebastian's cock slamming into your sweet spot.

Your hips drove downward, settling in place as your walls quivered around Sebastian’s cock. He held still to allow you to ride it out, your wetness trickling to the base of his shaft.

“So fucking good,” he groaned as he felt your orgasm subside. “You always feel fucking incredible.”

By now, you were reaching the point that lay beyond exhaustion. Your legs felt weak from riding Sebastian so hard and your head felt hazy, but you’d be damned if you walked away again without feeling Sebastian’s sweet release.

“Let me up,” Sebastian said, his hand grabbing a fistful of your hair to gently pull you backward. You obliged, praying your knees wouldn’t give out as you stood. 

“On your knees,” Sebastian ordered as he gently nudged you toward the sofa. You obeyed, your knees sinking into the cushions as you leaned forward against the sofa back, your hands clutching it in anticipation. You felt Sebastian kneel behind you, his own knees settling between your spread legs.

He rested one hand on your waist as the other wrapped around his cock to ease it back inside of you. Your cunt accommodated him with less resistance this time, but Sebastian grunted at the tight heat that swallowed his cock.

“Like it when I take you from behind?” he murmured against the back of your neck.

“Yes,” you breathed as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder blade. 

“Want me to make you come again?”

“Yes.” You whimpered to emphasize your greedy desperation. Sebastian made you come twice that morning and twice now this evening, but the feeling of your cunt stretched around his hard length made it difficult for you to think rationally. “Sebastian,” you whined at his lack of movement. You bucked your hips backward, drawing a resounding moan from him.

“Just like that love,” he breathed. 

You ground yourself backward, Sebastian’s cock burying itself inside you repeatedly, the sounds of slapping skin clapping across the room. Sebastian’s grip on your hips tightened until his primal instincts overpowered him.

He thrust himself hard against you, his fingers sinking into your flesh to leave inevitable bruises. 

“Oh fuck,” he moaned as he drove himself harder inside you. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the sofa, your cunt gripping at Sebastian in an attempt to stir up one more orgasm.

Sebastian’s cock pounded against your sensitive spot and you cried out in encouragement, pleading with him to grant you the privilege of one more moment of euphoria.

“Come for me,” he commanded. You moaned in response to indicate how close you were, rocking your hips backward to meet Sebastian’s rhythm. His thrusts became more erratic, an obvious sign he was nearing his peak.

“Right there,” you managed as you squeezed your eyes shut, every ounce of your focus on the building sensation. Almost there. A few more strokes should do it…

The pleasure made your thighs shake as you released a breathy cry that was followed by the sounds of Sebastian’s thrusts fucking you to completion. The orgasm erupted in forceful waves that fluttered through your walls until you collapsed over the back of the sofa.

The sight of your satisfied, fucked out frame was Sebastian’s ultimate climax. He grunted as he thrusted hard and held you flush against himself while he spilled inside you. You couldn’t help but release one final moan at the sensation of his heat pooling within your cunt until he pulled away. It dripped from you, cascading down your thighs as you feebly straightened to your feet.

Sebastian’s arms were around you instantly, pulling you close as he held you quietly, both of your panting the only sound in the cottage. You slumped against him, sleepy and sweaty, your eyes fluttering shut.

“I can’t believe we didn’t wake the baby,” Sebastian mused softly.

Your eyes opened and drifted over the scene of your sins. “I can’t believe we ruined the sofa,” you frowned.

Sebastian barked a laugh and pulled you in close again, your head resting against his chest. “Wendy picked that out years ago. I never liked it anyway.”

[aethon-recs]

Themed Rec List | Tomarrymort Recs by Horcrux ⚡👑🏆🔒💍

I wanted to put together a rec list of Harry/Tom fics with a core focus on horcruxes outside of Diary Tom (the most popular horcrux) and Voldemort himself. Please enjoy these 22 fics that feature one of Tom's horcruxes and their special relationship with Harry.

There’s a ton of interesting variation that can be explored within a Harry and horcrux Tom ship — from where the horcruxes are located and when Harry can conceivably meet them in canon (for example, the Cup horcrux is harder to access than the others); to what age they were made by Voldemort and how that would shape their personalities and interactions with Harry; to the different magical properties that they might embody, depending on the vessel that was chosen.

Finally, it looks like Scarcrux and Locket are the most popular choices (after Diary Tom), and we absolutely need more Cup horcrux fics!

*

⚡ Scarcrux

Amensalism by @cindle-writes (E, 6k, complete)

Scarcrux becomes sentient after the encounter in the Ministry in Harry's 5th year and takes Harry for an adventure.

Bolide by @vdoshu (T, 3k, complete)

On October 31, 1981, a tiny piece of soul attaches himself to Harry Potter in order to survive. This is his story.

Creatures of the Dark we are by @hikarimeroperiddle (M, 28k, complete)

Banished to his cupboard at age 4, Harry learns to listen only to the Voice in his head. Its teachings warp all Harry could have become until no more than dark magic and devotion remains. Visions of a wraith with red eyes complicate matters, especially when Harry and the Voice follow it to Hogwarts so Master can get his hands on the Philosopher’s stone.

Eulogy by @meles-merrivale (E, 6k, complete)

You run through the things you have to do for the day. It is, admittedly, a very short list. Wake up. Be clean. Be ready. An empty life, some might call it. You don’t. It is the life He has given you, and so it is what you deserve.

last rites by @cindle-writes (E, 5k, complete)

Harry has an hour before he walks to his death in the Forbidden Forest. The horcrux in Harry’s scar decides to take matters into its own hands.

Look at me. by @crowcrowcrowthing (M, 1k, complete)

A dark night of the soul.

Pitch Black by @kagariasuha (E, 2k, complete)

The proximity of Horcruxes can influence anyone - especially Harry.

sandpaper kisses, paper cut bliss by @xodahafez (E, 27k, WIP)

Harry Potter survives the Killing Curse, but so does the horcrux within him. And this horcrux has been dangerously infatuated with Harry for seventeen years.

saw you in a dream by @duplicitywrites (E, 2k, complete)

Harry has had this dream before.

*

👑 Diadem

A peculiar way of fitting together by @being-luminous (T, 2k, complete)

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m wearing a diadem?”

Dance Me On and On by @duplicitywrites (E, 19k, complete)

In his first year at Hogwarts, Harry overhears Quirrell interrogating Binns about an artifact from over a thousand years ago. Five years later, Harry uncovers Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem in the Room of Requirement and finds himself pulled into a kingdom in the throes of a mysterious masquerade ball.

In Just a Moment, You’ll Be Mine by @dividawrites (E, 34k, WIP)

Tom has been stuck inside the Ravenclaw's Diadem for decades, alone, with nothing but his slowly fading memories. One day he feels a pull towards someone and gets interested. And then he gets obsessed.

Death is not an Escape by @whitepinkdandelions (T, 2k, complete)

The Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw is full of endless wisdom, so it only makes sense that it gets its hooks into Harry much faster than the rest of them.

*

🏆 Cup

Thirst by @obsidianpen (E, 27k, complete)

Things go awry when the trio beaks into Gringotts. Harry finds himself trapped, locked in the Lestrange vault, wandless and alone... With a horcrux.

*

🔒 Locket

Arson by @rudehellion (M, 8k, complete)

The hunt for Voldemort's Horcruxes is going poorly. In need of some space to think, Harry offers to take the first watch over camp and slips out into the snowy night. Unable to shake his dark thoughts, Harry finds himself drifting and he begins to dream. What he sees changes everything.

knock it off (part 1) / crave gets slaked (part 2) by @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts (E, 6k, complete)

At some point during Harry's time with the Dursleys, pain got crossed with affection. A kick from Dudley or having his arm yanked by Uncle Vernon at least means they’re acknowledging his existence. It’s not love, but it’s something. Too bad for Harry he carries that through to his less dysfunctional relationships.

The Cost by Blood_Stained_Fingers (M, 8k, complete)

The cost of making a horcrux was steep and when Voldemort manages to kill Harry, destroying the horcrux within, Harry finds out the exact price of losing a piece of your soul. It made a cruel joke that if Voldemort loved his horcruxes, Harry should love them too.

The Dead of Night by @cybrid (E, 6k, complete)

An empty house. A glint of gold. A dream. Or: running away from Privet Drive goes terribly for Harry.

The Ties That Bind by @mosiva (E, 8k, complete)

Harry finds the locket at Grimmauld Place, but it has a curse laid on it. When Harry triggers it, he finds himself trapped with the locket version of Tom Riddle, both of them stuck within the enchantment until they can find the way out. Or so Harry thinks.

Whole by Emriel (E, 20k, complete)

The horcrux hunt goes wrong and Harry fails to destroy the locket horcrux. Tom Riddle hands him over to the Dark Lord as a present for they know he holds part of their soul. In their care, Harry learns that feelings, no matter how toxic, are hard to get rid off.

*

💍 Ring

Personal Assistant by @phantomato (E, 10k, complete)

“And that’s it? I call ‘Tom’ and you show up?” “Yes,” Tom answers.

shelter from the storm by @cindle-writes, @duplicitywrites (E, 7k, complete)

After being left behind by the Dursleys, Harry stumbles upon an empty shack in the middle of nowhere, where he finds a mysterious ring underneath the loose floorboards.

*

[emeritusemeritus]

Hii could you do a winter themed george x reader drabble in which they're at hogwarts and the reader is a slytherin and so it's super cold in her dorm so she sneaks into George's to sleep with him in his bed almost every night. it can be smut if you want it to

Hi love! Any chance to write cozy George! Hope you enjoy 🖤

Warnings: None? Slytherin reader, cute fluff.

Word count: 700

Ice Angel

"Georgie," you whisper quietly, your hand gently shaking his exposed shoulder, trying to rouse him from sleep. He's asleep in his dorm, just as you supposed every other student in the castle was, except for you.

"George," say a tiny bit louder, pushing harder on his bare shoulder. You were trying desperately not to disturb the others inside the dorm, knowing that Fred and Lee would not appreciate being woken at this hour. George stirs a little, enough, for you to whisper his name one more time. You watch in nervous anticipation as his eyes slowly flutter open, squinting through the darkness, with only the faintest warm light emitting from the top of your wand that you keep concealed around the frame of his bed so it wouldn't wake the others.

"Angel?" His voice is rough and thick with sleep, almost coming out like a whispered growl. He turns over in bed, shifting up, his naked chest exposed just below his nipples, the perfect expanse of his chest on show. He looks warm. He doesn't even think twice about it, as almost on instinct he opens up the covers and invites you in. You quickly dispel the faint lumos charm and welcome his silent invitation with open arms, toeing off your slippers and trying to quietly join him in the bed. He doesn't ask for a reason not will he push you for one, your perfect George.

You sigh out in bliss at the warmth he emits, even the covers are warm against your body and of course they smell like George, which is even more comforting.

"Melin you're freezing Angel," he says, feeling your body involuntarily shaking as you struggle to regulate yourself. He pulls you into his chest, your cold nose pressed against the naked skin you find there as his big arms wrap around you, but not before pulling up the covers so that nothing under your nose is exposed, even your ears are protected now against the biting cold.

"Thank you Georgie," you say through your slowing shivers, gripping hold of his bare chested body tightly, the beacon of heat you were never going to let go of.

"Why are you so cold baby? Walking around in the middle of the night," he coos, his right hand coming up to play with your hair. You're tired now, lulled to sleep by having George so close to you, the smell, the sounds, the warmth.

It’s the middle of winter with Christmas just around the corner, so naturally it was cold in the old stone castle, but judging by your partially frozen toes, it was beyond the normal chill.

"Dungeons," you say, your teeth just starting not to chatter as your body temperature very slowly rises thanks to your radiator of a boyfriend. George understands immediately and though he's never been there, he could only assume how painfully cold the Slytherin common room and dorms must get, being so far down in the castle.

"You're staying here tonight," George says, watching from above as your eyes begin to look heavy. He couldn't believe that you'd walked all the way through the castle, in nothing more than your pyjamas and slippers all the way to Gryffindor tower to be with him, to seek the comfort he could give you. It warms him really, feeling the lull of being needed, of being someone's chosen option. He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of your head, feeling his own eyes beginning to sting out of tiredness. They close upon their own accord as he holds you tightly, your body nestled tightly to him and he smiles to himself as he drifts away, thinking of how this will be every night from here on out. No longer would you sleep in that cold dungeon anymore when he had a perfectly good bed here waiting for you.

[singmyaubade]

Are You Afraid Of The Dark?

KINKTOBER 2023

Dark!Poly!Marauders x Female!Reader

Summary: Don't be afraid of the dark.

Warning: Containing DARK THEMES such as NONCON/DUBCON, cursing, smut, etc.. Stay advised.

Studying late at night wasn't always the best idea considering students weren't allowed in the corridors after eight PM.

But of course, Ms. AlwaysTryingToAceATest couldn't resist spending the night before OWL's to study her arse off.

It was truly a bad decision on your part but you couldn't fail your last year of Hogwarts, it was entirely unacceptable.

Getting the perfect scores was something that you needed. But was it worth walking through the dark corridors with a small light beaming from your wand?

You heard a creak behind you, startling you out of your thoughts.

"Fuck," You whispered, looking behind you to see only pitch black.

"No cursing!" An old lady in the painting reprimanded you as you muttered an apology.

"And turn that bloody light off!" A scruffy looking old man yelled at you, causing you to sigh in annoyance.

'You only had a few more steps before reaching the Gryffindor common room, you could make it without light there.' You thought, putting your wand in your back pocket.

You kept yourself to the side of the wall, using your hand to navigate where each door was by swiping it across the walls, hoping to feel a door.

"Y/N," An eery whisper ran shivers down your back as you looked behind you to only see pitch black.

A part of you wanted to calm yourself down by saying that it was all in your head but another knew that you weren't insane and there was no way your brain made up that sound.

Your feet quickened, trying to make it faster to the common room before you felt yourself trip over something hard.

"Shit!" You mumbled, trying to pick yourself up.

You heard a deep laugh behind you which sent the same shivers down your spine you had felt from earlier.

"Alright, who's fucking with me?" You questioned, trying to take your wand from your back pocket to use as a flashlight but you could no longer feel it.

You panicked, feeling around for your wand but you couldn't see and neither could you feel anything around.

It could've dropped anywhere.

You stood up, about to walk backwards before you bumped into what felt like a chest.

You turned around, still only seeing pitch black, "Who are you?" You asked, slowly backing away.

"Why?" The deep voice asked, "Are you afraid of the dark?"

You couldn't make out the voice and it wasn't helping that you couldn't see the figure but it could see you.

The fear was almost radiating off of you but you tried your best to seem stronger than whatever it was in front of you.

"No," You answered, "This really isn't funny whoever you are," You tried to sound strict but you knew you sounded more scared.

"Are you sure you aren't scared?" You heard another deep voice from behind you as it gripped your waist.

You didn't know where you could go, there was two in front of you and you couldn't see a thing.

"Fuck off!" You stepped on the foot of the guy that was gripping on your waist but it only made his grip tighter.

Tears were about to stream from your eyes, "Please stop," You sobbed, feeling the most scared you have ever felt in your life.

"We won't hurt you," The guy behind you whispered in your ear, brushing the hair away from it.

"We would never do something like that," The guy in front of you said, stroking your cheek.

"Never," You heard another deep voice next to you, creeping you out even more.

"How many of you are there?" You cried but it sounded more unserious than you meant for it to sound.

All of them did a throaty chuckle, "Just us three," The guy next to you spoke.

"Please don't hurt me," You sniffled, tears actually raining down your cheeks now.

"Like he said," The guy in front of you whispered, "We would never hurt you," He kissed your neck down to your collarbone.

"Unless you're bad," The guy next you chuckled, palming himself through his pants.

"C'mere," The guy behind you stroked your hand, gripping it lightly and leading you somewhere.

You could feel the two men behind you following you guys and you still wondered how they knew where to go.

You heard a door close behind you as you gasped to already feel hands groping your breasts as a moan left your mouth.

"Keep quiet, you don't want people knowing what a slut you are," The man said, continuing to knead into your breasts.

A man tsked, "Don't be so mean Prongs,"

Prongs? You didn't know anyone by that name nor by that nickname which confused you.

Prongs snickered, "How can I resist?" He said, before reaching under your shirt to feel your breasts, twisting your hardened nipples. He pulled your shirt from over your head.

"Moony," The man said, "Aren't you gonna get in on this?" He asked.

"I'll have my time Padfoot," Moony answered, his voice not that far away from you.

"How about you be a good girl and get on your knees?" Moony asked, still standing where he was. Prongs and Padfoot placed there hands off of you.

You obliged immediately, getting on your knees as you heard footsteps towards you. You heard the sound of a belt being pulled off as you gulped.

"You know what to do darling," Moony said, gripping your hair in his hand.

You placed your hand around his erect cock as you did a small lick on the slit of him, earning a groan from him as you tasted the pre-cum on the tip of him.

You started sucking on the tip of him, teasing him a little bit. You felt him grip your hair harder as you went further, trying not to gag considering how big he was.

Suddenly, he shoved himself down your throat as you placed your palms on each of his thighs.

"Come on, I know you can do it," He encouraged you, your nose being tickled by his pubic hair.

You tried your best to breathe through your nose as he fucked your throat. He pushed your head back as you gasped for air, him letting you breathe for a few seconds.

He lifted you up from your knees using your hair before delivering a harsh kiss to your lips. His tongue exploring your mouth as if he was tasting himself.

You could feel him leading you somewhere, "Bend over," You did as he you felt your bare chest on a cold desk.

You could see a little bit of light peaking through from outside just enough to see that you were in a classroom.

Before you could think deeper, you felt your tights and underwear being ripped.

"At least let he keep her clothes intact Pads," Prongs said.

"Don't have time to take them off," Padfoot muttered, his cock teasing your entrance.

Before you could react, he placed himself inside of you, a guttural groan from him as you moaned. The stretch almost ripped you open, you felt. His fingers reached towards in between you and the desk, rubbing your clit in circles as you moaned loudly.

You could almost feel him inside of your stomach due to how big he was.

"Gotta keep her quiet," Prongs said, positioning himself at your mouth as you opened it willingly, his cock entering your mouth.

Padfoot's movement quickened as you moaned around Prongs's cock, earning a groan from him.

"Fuck, I'm not gonna last for long," Prongs whimpered as you tasted him down your throat.

You could feel your release building up inside of you as Padfoot started pumping inside of you faster.

"Shit," Padfoot cursed as he started going faster, signaling he was about to cum inside of you.

Both of your moans were loud as you both came simultaneously as he placed kisses on your back before pulling out.

You hissed at the sudden emptiness you felt in your stomach.

Prongs moved away from your mouth as you cheek laid on the cold desk, already tired.

"Baby, we still have a long way to go," Prongs whispered in your ear as you felt Moony move behind you.

He gave you no time before inserting himself inside of you. He was longer and thicker than both of the other boys, earning a loud moan from you as you didn't go gentle on you.

The sound of skin slapping and moans filled the room. You knew you were red from how lewd the sounds were.

"You're doing so good for me," Moony praised, placing his hands in your hips to push you into him.

Drool was leaking out of your mouth, the pleasure you felt was nothing you had felt before.

His thrusts became sharper, more of him inside you and faster. You gasped every time he pulled in and out.

"Come on, give me one," Moony said, kissing the top of your ear.

You felt yourself inching towards your release as he pumped inside of you.

You both moaned one final time before both of your releases came.

After what felt like hours of orgasms, the boys finally let up but you were clearly out of it.

"How was that sweetheart?" James asked, the light beaming from his wand as he kissed your forehead.

"So good," You lazily said.

"Did we go too rough on you?" Sirius said, positioning you upright as he did a spell to fix your undergarments and putting them on you.

"Never," You said, giving him a peck on his arm, "I loved it," You smiled, “By the way, what were those nicknames?”

Sirius smirked, “Just something we made up,”

Remus moved your hair from your face, "How about we run you a bath?" Remus asked, smiling at you.

"That sounds perfect," You grinned as Remus kissed you on the lips, "It was all perfect,"

A/N: Okay, I am very rusty when it comes to writing smut but woo! The official first day of Kinktober, I am so excited for what's left to go and if you hated this, I apologize LOL.