#honourable mention ;; Our Ron

[drsallyrothering]

What Who Knows - for @whosxafraid

"Oh!...Hello Pat. Is the Boss not about?"

Not for the first time in her life, Sal cursed a mental blue streak over Pat's Boss keeping free of chrome. Putting in a call to the Work Line was nowhere near as secure as would be a personal link. God only knew who'd pick up when something was urgent - the man she needed to talk to...or his major domo, which is who she'd got on the holo now.

"Ee's in meetin's all day, luv" Pat replied amiably, his voice rendered clear enough that he could have been in the room with her. "Take a message f'yah, c'n I? 'Ee'll buzz yah back, promise."

"I..."

Sal trailed off, her eyes fixed forward as reams of data scrolled like rain down windows on her HUD. The data-shard Pat's Boss had handed to her personally - the one she'd half an hour back slotted into the port behind her right ear - had dumped what must've been a terabyte's worth of info on her in the ensuing; a heavy but manageable load for anyone with anything beyond first gen hardware. It wasn't the amount of it that had her on the holo though. It was the word sitting top left in her field of view.

"You alrigh', Sal?"

That was Pat's voice again, concern in it now.

Sal blinked herself out of the reverie she'd slipped into. "-Yes, I just-"

She cut herself off, weighing for what felt like a full minute the pros and cons of broaching what really needed to be given all she'd seen. It...wasn't a usual, above-board, buddy-buddy relationship she and Pat and Pat's Boss had. They treated her pleasantly, no question. They supplied her clinic and made sure the security was top notch. But she wasn't naïve enough to think for a second they did these things through legal channels and so, in matters where she might be seen as questioning their decisions, she knew she had to tread gently.

"...It's been three years we've known each other now, right Pat?"

Confusion vied with concern in his reply. "It 'as, yeah..."

Sal pressed on. "And you know I served - MedCorps for nearly twenty. Different to you, different place, different time, but we both served in our way."

"We did...Sal, wha's this-"

"What does Gemini mean to you?"

At that word's intonation, Pat's entire world felt like it narrowed to a pinprick. The voice on the other end of the line, Sal's voice, faded from him; laid over by a hollow buzzing nothingness that could've dragged Pat under had determined Sally not kept on; had she not invoked his Boss's name with such sincere worry.

"Is Ron in the habit of liberating military hardware?"

"-Sal" Pat tried, the absence of accusation in her voice all that was keeping him seated. She went on like she'd not heard him.

"Better question. Is Ron in the habit of taking in military hardware that liberated itself?"

The silence on the line was like a lead weight in her gut.

"...Did you know, Pat?"

It only got heavier the longer the quiet stretched.

"...Does Ron know?"

[detroitpedxing]

Meet Susie Wiles, the ‘ice maiden’ who propelled Trump to victory – and his new chief of staff

On one hand, Susie Wiles is the generous neighbour who brings you casseroles and sends you flowers when you’re in the hospital. On the other, she’s a ruthless political operator who was the mastermind behind getting Donald Trump back to the White House. Alex Hannaford talks to those who know her to find out how she became one of the few people who can handle her boss...

On her Twitter/X profile, she wears a blouse and cardigan, drop earrings, and a gold necklace, her grey hair perfectly set. But Susie Wiles’ “Golden Girl”, grandmotherly image belies the role that consumes her. Wiles is one of the most powerful players in Republican politics, who ran Donald Trump’s campaign for re-election and who has just become his next chief of staff.

In his statement on Thursday evening Trump said that Wiles “just helped me achieve one of the greatest political victories in American history” and “is tough, smart, innovative, and is universally admired and respected”.

“It is a well deserved honour to have Susie as the first-ever female chief of staff in United States history,” he continued. “I have no doubt that she will make our country proud.”

Wiles, 67, is the first woman to be appointed White House chief of staff and in his victory speech in Florida the President-elect Donald Trump mentioned her previously little-known name seven times.

“Let me also express my tremendous appreciation for Susie and Chris —the job you did. Come, Susie,” Trump said. “Susie likes to stay in the back, let me tell you. We call her the ice maiden”, he joked, adding. “She is not in the background (anymore).”

A ruthless political operator, for the past 12 months her focus has been on absolute victory. And on Thursday evening, Trump confirmed her as his White House new chief of staff.

The Hill political newspaper called her “the most powerful Republican you don’t know”; The New York Times described her as “perhaps the most significant voice inside Mr Trump’s third presidential campaign”.

But who is she, and what makes this cake-baking, bird-watching 66-year-old grandmother tick?

Wiles has worked in Republican politics since the late 1970s and went on to become a campaign scheduler on Ronald Reagan’s 1980 presidential bid, and later in his administration. In her late twenties, she moved from New Jersey, where she was born and raised, to Jacksonville, Florida, with her then-husband, Lanny, an “advance man” who handled publicity for candidates during political campaigns.

When the couple had their two daughters, Katie and Caroline, she took some time out to raise them but then went full-throttle back into the game – eventually running Trump’s Florida operations in his first bid to become president. Many attribute him winning the state by 1.2 percentage points over his rival Hillary Clinton to Wiles.

Choosing to stay in Florida instead of heading to the White House, Wiles focussed her efforts a couple of years later, on helping the Trump-anointed Ron DeSantis in his campaign to succeed Rick Scott as governor. Their relationship soured, with him blaming her for leaks and despite her denials, it is thought he was behind her ousting from the team. She officially left for health reasons in September 2019, but one friend of Wiles told me she was “really down at that point – at the very bottom”, and that leaving presented an existential crisis for her.

But then, in 2020, she got a call from Trump. He wanted her back on his team. And not only that, he wanted her to head it up.

Wiles’s father, Pat Summerall, was a professional football player and later a well-known sports broadcaster. Peter Schorsch, publisher of Florida Politics, who has known Wiles for a decade and considers her a friend, says Summerall would reach tens of millions of people each Sunday with his broadcasts and was such a voice of authority that he thinks some of that ability to take control; to command an audience, rubbed off on Wiles. Another former colleague and friend agreed that her gift as a “people person” was probably inherited from her dad but that her warm personality came from her mother, Katherine Jacobs, “who was a wonderful woman”.

However, it wasn’t all apple pie and roses. Summerall was an alcoholic and, after divorcing Katherine, was estranged from Wiles and her two siblings, Jay and Kyle, for some time. But, as an adult, Wiles left the door open for him to reconcile, and Summerall credited her with eventually helping get him into rehab for his addiction.

In 2017, Wiles and Lanny separated. Schorsch described it as a “quiet divorce between two prominent people” but he thinks it had the effect of freeing Wiles up to focus on her political career in her sixties, “to where she can be devoted to whoever her principal is at the time; undistracted when working on a candidate”.

Her soft edges however aren’t enough to hide a reputation for being a rottweiler, unafraid of baring her teeth. As a political operative, “Susie does not f*** around,” Schorsch says. “There is no other way to say it. It’s not that she’s hard, it’s not that she’s mean, but if you try to promote yourself or if you flimflam or you’re not honest about something, Susie will knife you herself.” It’s perhaps a trait her new boss is particularly fond of.

Schorsch recalls an instance when she oversaw the DeSantis campaign and a consultant who was brought in chose to speak to the media when they were told not to: “Susie immediately cut this person off and it took years for them to repair that relationship.”

But he says she also possesses this “southern grandmotherly kindness”. For example, he says, she knew the names of the volunteer working tirelessly for the campaign in a far-off county, and she takes care of the people working with her. “She’s very good at offering familial advice to a lot of her young staffers.” He recalls one such staffer had just had a baby and Wiles emphasised the importance of taking time off. “There’s an emphasis on making sure the people working for her are taking care of their home lives too.”

Schorsch says she’d very much fit into the kind of decorum and stagecraft that is a hallmark of British politics. Unlike her boss maybe “she just respects so much of the institutional stuff, the discipline of it all, while at the same time being a very savvy operator”.

It was a savvy “Team Trump” that recruited Wiles to the campaign. By taking all the “craziness” that surrounds Trump and adding what Schorsch calls a “disciplined ground game”, it seemed to be the sleight of hand helped Trump along to victory. Schorsch noted how Mar-a-Lago became “so much more disciplined since Susie became the chief gatekeeper.”

What’s more, he thinks that Wiles sees no need to rein in Trump’s worst excesses. “It’s a much more pragmatic ‘let Trump be Trump’ philosophy: he says certain things to the Maga crowd, but he also offers an incredible tax policy to the billionaire crowd, and they like that. I don’t want to say she’s made a deal with the devil, but she knows what Trump’s about.”

It’s this ability to think two things at once and instinct to know what people want that makes her such a smart operator. John Delaney hired Wiles when he ran a successful campaign to become mayor of Jacksonville back in 1995, after which she became his chief of staff.

“Four weeks into the campaign she kind of transformed the thinking and the messaging,” he says. And there are certain Trumpian elements to her too – in terms of her ability to connect with a crowd and give them exactly what they want. “She is an absolutely brilliant political savant with incredible instincts about what the public thinks; what can fly,” Delaney says.

Delaney says Wiles wants to help the people she works for reach the goals they are aiming for, even if she doesn’t always agree entirely with their politics. “She has no ego. She’s very much a behind-the-scenes person.” But despite friends and colleagues being willing to talk about her and her ability to do a difficult job, she remains an enigma and fiercely guards her personal life. Even members of the Trump campaign are reluctant to talk about her.

As for working for Trump, Wiles might not always agree with his delivery, his choice of words or even his political stance on an issue, but Delaney says politics is about what people can overlook in one candidate and what they can’t overlook in another. In that way, she’s very much like the voters who might have held their noses at the ballot box; “dyed in the wool” Republicans who may not have loved their candidate, but who got over the line.

Delaney doubts that Wiles’ politics always chime with Trump’s. “She would be what I’d call left on LGBT+ issues. And I can’t believe she would necessarily agree naturally with Donald Trump on immigration, but that’s more me speculating.”

Delaney agrees with Schorsch that, political career aside, Wiles is a sweet, good-natured person. “If she lived in your neighbourhood and you were sick, she’d bring over a casserole,” he says. “If you needed an electrician to be let into your house, she’d figure out how to do that. And if you were in the hospital, she’d visit and send you flowers. She’s just a really nice person.”

When Wiles is at home, he says she likes to tend her garden and she enjoys cooking. She’s known to be an avid birdwatcher, too, although as one person who knows her told me, “I doubt she’s doing much birdwatching at the moment.”

“And she’s crazy about her girls and her grandkids,” Delaney says. She’s not flashy, doesn’t splurge on five-star hotels, and he says as a practising Episcopalian she’s a “church-every-Sunday person and prays frequently”.

Nate Monroe, a columnist for the Florida Times-Union newspaper who has known Wiles in his capacity as a journalist for a decade, says her critics would say that sweet, personable demeanour “masks a very, very calculating, hard-charging operator. As much as she is very well thought of, she is equally feared. And she is a dangerous person to cross.”

In January, Monroe penned a devastating editorial, castigating DeSantis for his presidential campaign and pointing out personal traits which ensure he “always chooses cruelty over kindness, dog whistles over empathy, divisiveness over grace”. Just to ensure the knife was well and truly twisted, Monroe added: “Who was it that Trump called out during his victory speech [in Iowa], that diminutive figure standing at the periphery of his entourage on stage? Susie Wiles, the adviser DeSantis cast out, is one of Trump’s most trusted confidantes. Oops.”

Monroe says those familiar with Wiles knew that by cutting her out of his inner circle – and humiliating her in the process – DeSantis would eventually get his comeuppance. He also says Wiles is “almost allergic to drama” – which may sound illogical – comical, even – when you consider who her boss is. But Monroe has another take. Perhaps it’s a good fit. Perhaps, in Susie Wiles, Donald Trump has found a calm, steady hand.

[lazuli-writes]

Honour

summary: The letter Ron left Muriel following his and Daphne’s flight from the Prewett ancestral home.

pairing: none

genre/warnings: light angst / mentions of past torture & family problems (very brief)

estimated word count: 900 words

a/n: This takes place in the early summer right after Ootp. Ron had just been disowned and fled the burrow. He had already been kicked out the twin’s shop. Remember folks, copying other people’s works is plagiarism and that’s illegal. Don’t be that kind of person. Anyways, hope you all enjoy it :)

©little-lazuli. Do not copy, repost, or translate without permission

Dear auntie Muriel, 

I want to start off by saying that I held no wish to disrespect you with our unanticipated departure. However, after the moments we shared last night, I felt the need to heed your words. You were right. I was foolish for leaving my parents, my siblings, and my family that night. My irrational temperament and clear lack of decorum towards my mother was out of line. I shouldn’t have run away. Maybe if I hadn’t, I would not have gotten the mark in the first place. There isn’t much that I would consider to be more painful than that night, that Christmas Eve. 

You labeled me daft for taking the mark, and for my part in the events that precipitated that painful memory. And I understand. But never, for even a second, would I wish I had not been there. I do not wish I was not taken that night. I do not wish I was not tortured that night. I do not wish I had not taken the dark mark in Daphne’s place. That will never be something I will ever regret. 

I love her aunt Muriel. 

Daphne Greengrass is the woman I wish to marry. I wish to be the one to hold her every time she awakens from a nightmare. I wish to be the one to have kissed her under the light of the sun, the moon and the stars. I wish to be the one she can call her friend, her shield, her love, from this day until my very last. I wish to hear her voice sing me into Morpheus’ realm. I wish to have her arms hold me forever. I wish to be her husband. 

It’s because of this necessity for me to be hers in totality, that I have taken my leave from your shelter. It was never my mission to find somewhere for myself to catch my breath. I was disowned for my inability to convey what I felt. I didn’t give my parents the truth and as such, they reacted in the only way they knew. They feared the unknown. 

My mission, from the moment I took the mark for Daphne, was to ensure that Daphne and Astoria could have somewhere to stay. I was foolish in not asking for help. I bloody well believe it would have been smarter to keep them in this secret space in Hogwarts I had discovered in my fourth year. But yet here I was. I completed my mission. I found you. It was never my intention to take advantage of your hospitality in such a way auntie, but as I am writing this letter, I cannot help but feel as if I am spitting on your virtue. For that, I owe you my sincerest apologies.

Granted I haven’t even asked you yet, but here I am speaking it as if it was fact. I wish for Astoria to stay here, within your home and the home of my mother’s ancestors. She cannot and will not be allowed to join Daphne and I on our journey. Tabby, the last of the Greengrass elves will remain with you to help keep an eye and care for her as Daphne and I travel. I cannot stay. Even though I have amputated my arm, a show of loyalty I also hold no regret over, I refuse to have my presence bring you and Astoria to danger. What we plan on doing is not safe. And we believed it better for Astoria to remain behind, as well as not to attend Hogwarts. 

You told me last night that our families share a history. Prewetts, Weasleys, Princes, and so many others… We shared a history in defending those who could not defend themselves. We defended our own when muggles hunted us, calling us demons. We defended muggles, when our own fellow wizards wished retribution on the son for their father’s crimes. 

You taught me that my ancestors were warriors, willing to defend themselves to the last breath. Though I may no longer be considered a Weasley—and therefore unable to do the name any honour. Your words from last night have given me hope that maybe I could still do right by our shared ancestors. With that in mind, I will tell you what I aim to do. 

That monster, that snake, He who must not be named. I wish to fight back. I wish to help our side of this war. And I will. Me and Daphne may not be able to go up against the likes of him and his supporters. But there are so many others at the mercy of their wrath. I refuse to sit or hide. I refuse to remain quiet. I am going to fight back, auntie. I am going to help those in need. 

With this in mind, Daphne and I have left your home. I do not know when or if we’ll be back. All I ask is that you keep Astoria with you please. With the fidelius now up, you both shall be safe. Again, I sincerely apologize for my leaving, but I hope you can understand. I pray this letter isn’t the last you will hear from me and I hope to one day see you again, because despite still being the scary crone I have grown up believing you to be auntie. You are one of the most exceptional witches I have ever been lucky to know.

Thank you again, for everything you have done for me. I look forward to hopefully seeing you again.

Your nephew, Ronald Weasley

[abi-does-stuff]

Fav 5 books read in 2023:

Tress of the Emerald Sea - Brandon Sanderson

Nettle and Bone - T. Kingfisher

Convenience Store Woman - Sayaka Murata (Translated from Japanses by Ginny Tapley Takemori)

Our Wives Under the Sea - Julia Armfield

I Who Have Never Known Men - Jacqueline Harpman (Translated from French by Ron Schwartz)

Not necessarily the books I rated the highest (1 and 2 were my only 5 star reads of the year) but the ones that I most enjoyed and/or that stuck with me the longest.

Honourable mentions:

The Adventures of Amina Al-Sirafi - Shannon Chakraborty

This is How You Lose the Time War - Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone 

Sea of Tranquility - Emily St John Mandel

Days at the Moriasaki Bookshop - Satoshi Yagisawa (Translated from Japanese by Eric Ozawa)

Rolling in the Deep/Into the Drowning Deep - Mira Grant

[phoebe-delia]

Ron's Turn

I spent most of my day thinking about Ron and how undervalued he is. So this came out 😂

I am so goddamn tired of not feeling good enough.

All I ever did was throw myself into danger. I'm not as brave as Harry, or a genius like Hermione. I'm not a dreamer like Luna, a botanist like Neville, or a Quidditch star like Ginny. I'm left off the list of the most beloved, the strongest, the best, the most talented. I'm lucky if I get an honourable mention, and even then I know it's just by association.

Everything I've wanted for myself—I've just fallen short. It was hell watching every single one of my friends and family succeed over me. I was happy for them—truly, part of me was—but this knot of jealousy just keeps festering inside. And with few exceptions, I've been good at keeping my jealousy separate from my pride for my friends.

Even when it's objective—when there's no favoritism and we take our NEWTs and our names are magically coded so as to ensure complete anonymity—I still fall somewhere in the middle. I am plainly average. Not the worst—but certainly not the best.

It makes me want to quit trying. And it makes me want to find something where I can be the best for once in my fucking life.

And, god, don't tell me I'm a "good brother" or a "good friend" because why the fuck can't I be good at something that helps only me? Why can't I take pride in my relationships—and also in my work? In my talents? Why am I not allowed to be more—and to be upset that I don't have it? To resent the fact that I see glory all around me—all fucking around me—and know none of it's for me, no matter how hard I try.

I've had enough. It's not my friends' fault, I definitely don't blame them, but I can't do this around them. I can't do this with them. I need something that's just mine.

It's my turn.

[artemisia-black]

Sirius Black is no playboy/ non-committal fuckboi

To celebrate the start of Scorpio season and in honour of our bestie, I have planned 3 metas about what I think are common misconceptions around his character. This is number three.

In case you’re interested here are the other two:

1. Sirius is not an immature manchild

2. Sirius is canonically very intelligent

This is the third in the series and will focus on the idea that he was a playboy that slept with anything with a pulse.

A quick note before we get started, this post will mention sex so please stop reading if you are under 18.

Also, I’m not shaming anyone who enjoys casual sex.

This post is going to focus on why I don’t think he’s a fuckboy (someone who treats people like objects) or someone who is hyper-sexual (sleeps with everybody).

Unlike my other posts, this theory will be subject to more conjecture.

1.0 The Hogwarts Lothario

My first point, isn’t based on his character but more a caution when writing about his time at Hogwarts.

For much of his time at Hogwarts, Sirius is under the legal age of consent (in the UK this is 16 years old). While I’m not naïve enough to think that teenagers aren’t having relations with each other, I think adults within this fandom should be cautious about writing an underage boy as being very sexual.

2.0 His mummy issues

Often his fractured relationship with Walburga is cited as the reason behind his bed-hopping behaviour and this occurs especially when he’s written as someone who is sexually attracted to women.

Both the terms, ‘mummy issues’ and ‘daddy issues’ are rooted in attachment theory and Freud’s Oedipus theory (which has been severely critiqued over the last century.

And it is worth noting that neither of these terms (daddy/mummy issues) are a formal diagnosis nor have they ever been put in the Diagnostic and Statistical manual for mental health (DSM-5).

Indeed, within psychology circles the concept of ‘daddy issues’ in relation to female sexual behaviour has been heavily critiqued for both victim-blaming and perpetuating misogynistic views of female sexuality.

I have seen posts were Sirius’s mental health/emotional intensity is cited as reasons for his indiscriminate promiscuity.

And the idea linking mental illness to sexual behaviour, is rooted in the concept of ‘female hysteria’. Where women were pathologized for expressing sexual desire and in many cases shut away in asylums.

This insidious idea has morphed into the trope that mentally ill people (particularly women) are good in bed/hypersexual. When in fact many mental illnesses can supress libido. Depression is a key example of this, but also the surge of cortisol (stress hormone) caused by anxiety also supresses sex-drive. To quote my psychopharmacology lecturer,

‘One does not think about sex when running away from a Lion.’

To circle back to the ‘mummy-issues’ idea, in the clinical research available a poor-relationship with a mother most often manifests as misogyny. And it could be argued that this is why he treats his female sexual partners as disposable.

Yet Sirius does not demonstrate any misogynistic tendencies. I have a full-meta on his interactions with women but here are some pertinent parts:

1. In the chapter Padfoot returns, he corrects Ron about Crouch and sides with Hermione.

’She’s got the measure of him better than you have Ron.’

In this quote, he demonstrates a respect for Hermione’s intelligence and doesn’t blindly take the male’s side.

2. His relationship with Lilly

-In SWM, he takes Lilly’s no as a no (unlike James who tries to insist) and in his own way tries to get James to accept it too. The line 'Bad -luck Prongs.’ Is very final and not opening a debate. And indicates a respect for Lilly’s boundaries. And yes, this can be interpreted as him being glad Lilly has gone as he’s possessive of James. But he lets them talk and stands back and gives them space for the majority of the interaction.

-When James asks what Lilly’s problem is, Sirius says 'Reading between the lines, I think she thinks you’re a bit conceited’. So he lays the blame (albeit in a dry teenage boy way) at James’s door not at Lilly’s.

-The letter from Lilly indicates a warm friendship. She admits she’s been crying and shares some emotionally intimate details with him.

Overall, he seems fairly respectful of women in general and there is certainly no indication that he’s a misogynist or has a problem with women.

3.0 His looks

Canonically Sirius is described as ridiculously good-looking (he can’t even die in peace without his ‘once handsome face’ being mentioned). Yet this doesn’t automatically equal a fuckboy. For example, both Cedric Diggory and Bill Weasley are also described as good-looking but aren’t lotharios. In fact, he doesn’t seem that bothered by his looks:

1. When he’s living in the cave, he’s bothering to scrounge newspapers and write to Harry but doesn’t bother to comb his hair or shave. Yes, this is because he’s living in cave, but it also indicates that his personal appearance isn’t a priority.

2. During Snape’s worst memory, James is the one showing off for attention. Sirius is not at all bothered. This can indicate a wide-variety of things but IMO it does not indicate a play-boy who basks in attention.

3. When he both insults/compliments someone it is usually about their intelligence (this indicates that intelligence is what he values above all else).

-He refers to Regulus as ‘soft-enough to believe them’ and a ‘stupid-idiot

- He calls Bertha Jorkins ‘dim’

- He calls Peter ‘ A weak, talentless thing’ – despite Peter being canonically physically unattractive, Sirius targets his intelligence.

Indeed, the only time he targets someone’s looks is Snape and this is because he can’t target his intelligence as Snape is very clever,

‘ And Snape ’s certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble.’ GoF

4. He rebels against his parent’s pureblood beliefs and the idea that

‘To be a Black made you practically royal.’

He shows an aversion to praise for something that’s not earned, so I don’t see him basking in the shallow attention garnered by his looks (much less monopolising on them).

4.0 His sense of honour

As mentioned in my previous meta, he calls his role as godfather, ‘a duty.’

Indeed, the first thing he does when he thinks he’s free is offer Harry a home. He doesn’t peace out to go and party, he offers to be Harry’s father.

Furthermore he is willing to die for his loved ones and it’s not just words. He was prepared to be tortured to mislead the death eaters for Lilly and James. He would have died for Peter. And he died protecting Harry (up until Harry was in danger, he followed orders and stayed in his house). He is intense about his relationships even his fractured one with his family.

He is also intense about his beliefs and bluntly tells Fred,

‘This is how it is — this is why you’re not in the Order — you don’t understand — there are things worth dying for!” OoTP

IMO this is incongruent with a non-committal fuckboi.

5.0 The posters and how he always got the women

5.1 The posters

Often the posters of muggle girls in bikinis are cited as evidence of his fuckboi ways. But IMO they are a fuck you to his parents more than anything else. And here is my evidence:

Sirius is very similar to Walburga in terms of Verbiage and temper:

When Sirius loses his temper (and speaks in all caps) during the shrieking shack scene he calls Peter,

‘ A cringing piece of filth,’

‘‘… this piece of vermin.’

‘‘….his own stinking skin..’

He also says,

‘There’s enough filth on my robes without you touching them Peter.’

I find it interesting that when someone is beyond redemption and no longer worthy of his compassion, he uses words like, ‘filth,’ and ‘vermin.’ As very similar epithets are regularly screamed by Walburga’s portrait,

‘ Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness.’

Both Sirius and Walburga use language centred around cleanliness when insulting those they feel don’t warrant humanity and are probably very similar in how they express their anger.

And both permanently stick things to the wall, to cause the other anger. In Sirius’s case it was the posters (look Mum I’m gonna pollute the blood line because I fancy muggles) and in Walburga’s it was the portrait.

Note: I have a metaabout how harmful Walburga’s portrait is.

5.1 Lupin’s comment

On Pottermore, Lupin bitterly makes the following observation:

Before he could stop himself, Remus had replied bitterly that he supposed she had fallen for his old friend (‘He always got the women.’

This is about Tonks who is Sirius’s cousins’ daughter, so unless Lupin is cool with incest I think this quote needs to be taken with a large grain of salt. It is true that Sirius got attention, but this quote doesn’t provide enough evidence that he was constantly acting on it. Instead, it is rooted in Remus’s self-pity.

5.0 The circumstances

In the chapter Padfoot returns, he gives a detailed explanation of the paranoia running rampant through wizarding society during the first war. This is not conducive to forming relationships. Nor would people be shagging around with people they didn’t trust or know.

Also not having a wife/life partner or not actively seeking one at 22, is perfectly normal and doesn’t indicate a playboy.

In conclusion, my interpretation of his character is that he’s intense about his personal relationships and casual relationships are just not in his wheelhouse.

Note: I am happy to have a debate about this, but any ranting/abuse will be ignored :D

[rockingrobin69]

Permission

1k~, eighth year, CW for mentions of: alcohol, murder, body horror. All strictly mentions, pretty lighthearted too. For the lovely @bubble-gumhead who asked for the prompt, “Stop it! You’re doing it all wrong!”

In this light, anyone would fall in love with Draco Malfoy. The glowing embers reflected in his eyes like some sort of promise. The curl of his hair frizzy at its edges, ruffled, touchable. That smile, the one Harry had only recently discovered, softening his features an impossible amount. No one could blame Harry for staring. It wasn’t weird, though; they were friends now. He was allowed to look.

But maybe not quite like that.

“You alright, mate?”

He turned to Ron with alarm. “Er, yeah, why?”

“Dunno. You’re… looking a bit funny. Like you want to eat Malfoy whole or something. Or murder him and wear his skin as robes.”

“He does have beautiful skin,” Pansy threw, unhelpfully, from where she was slung on the arm of the sofa. “It’d look good on you, Potter. You could make a new cloak, seeing as yours still never fit quite right.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so, Parkinson. Harry’s a handsome bloke, he doesn’t need that poncy, pale blond for looks.”

Harry didn’t know if to feel honoured by Ron’s loyalty or a bit worried. “Uh, I don’t think I’m going to be wearing anybody else, thanks.”

“Are we talking about me?” Draco joined the conversation, flopping down next to Harry. “Thought I heard someone say ‘pale’, ‘blond’ and ‘handsome’ all in the one sentence.”

“Yeah, forgot to mention arsehole.” Ron’s voice wasn’t so hostile anymore, which Harry took as a win.

“Well, I thought it was implied. Move, Potter, you’re squashing me.” Harry hurried to shuffle away, because it wasn’t on purpose or anything. “In any case, Granger and I discussed it, and we’re going to throw the party after all. We’ll do it after hours, in the Western tower. We’ll get McGonagall’s approval��or at least set better spells this time.”  

A loud whoop ran through the common room. Harry couldn’t help the heat in his cheeks. “You… another party? Really?”

The last one was already stretching his limits a fair bit. To dance with Draco, with tipsy, smiling Draco, all happy and open, and still manage to keep his distance—when the light made him look bloody loveable—

“Will you have whisky this time?” Ron asked somewhere in the distance. “’Cause I’m not coming if it’s only butterbeer.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Three of those and you went down like a log, Ronald.”

Pansy sneered as Ron protested his indignation. She was draped all over Draco, idly braiding his hair, and Harry didn’t even know why everyone looked at him when someone yelled, “Stop it! You’re doing it all wrong!”

“Huh?” Ron cleared his throat, looking a bit red in the cheeks. “What, mate? What am I doing wrong?”

“Er,” Harry spat, mortified. “No, I didn’t…” shit. He hadn’t realised it was him who said it. “Just, with the, er, alcohol and, everything. If you get drunk on butterbeer, then—then you’re doing it all wrong.”

Everyone laughed—or nearly everyone, at least, and went back to speaking about the party. But Draco didn’t. Horribly, terribly, impossibly, he was looking at Harry as though he knew what he was actually talking about. Pansy’s hands in Draco’s hair. Draco’s touchable, lovely hair. In a fluid movement he sat up, brushed Pansy’s hand aside, and leaned against Harry instead.

“Potter. Are you still any good at sneaking around?”

“Erm… why?”

“To inspect the grounds for the party, of course. Come on, you have to take me. It’s for the sake of our entire year. You’ve still not outgrown your martyr complex, right?”

Harry rolled his eyes, but still let Draco grab him by the shirt and drag him away, to Ron’s laughter and Pansy’s snorts. Soon—too soon—they were alone in the quiet hallways, and Harry found it was rather difficult to swallow. Or breathe. Or—

Draco pulled him into an empty classroom and closed the door behind them. Harry forgot what the word panic meant, as English sort of went out the window with all high cognitive functions, but he was pretty sure this was it: accelerated heartrate, shallow breath. Sweaty palms.

“Draco, what…?”

Moonlight spilled into the room, reflecting in Draco’s bright eyes. He seemed like an angel like this; like a mythical creature, not quite real. Harry gulped as he approached.

“You’ve been looking at me,” he said, as though this were any sort of explanation. “In the common room, before. And in class. And in Hogsmeade. You’ve been looking all year, Potter, and I… I’m beginning to think maybe you want to do a little more than just look.”

“M-more?” Harry thought he would pass out soon unless he somehow got some air in his lungs. More? What could he have that’s more? More like… talk? More like… touch? More like…

“More.” Draco nodded, and now he was too close, bordering on crushing Harry against the wall. He wasn’t touching him—not yet, Harry thought with hysteria. But he might. If Harry said that’s what he wanted. How to train his tongue though, how to salvage anything from the smoldering ruins of his brain, how… “Harry? Do you?”

“Do I—what?”

“Want more?” Draco’s words were breathed against his face, hot and baffling, and tantalising, and wonderful. “Want me?”

“Fuck,” was all Harry was able to say, nodding like a maniac, wrapping two hands around his waist. Draco pinned him to the wall with nothing more than a smirk, but then with his hands too, and then with his mouth, crashing against Harry’s. And, indeed, fuck; anything Harry could have ever imagined—

They finally detached for air, and Harry breathed in big, helpless gulps. Draco looked unbelievable; lips swollen, hair mussed, eyes large and unblinking. Touchable, soft, loveable, all of it. Harry could stare at him forever like this. But he wanted more, and simply looking just wasn’t enough. So he grabbed Draco again and kissed him for all he was worth, and Draco kissed back, just as desperate, just as joyous. With a kiss like that, Harry thought, anyone would fall in love with Draco Malfoy. No one could blame him for it. But Harry? He was allowed.

[rogue-durin-16]

YOU DRIVE ME MAD

Summary: Fred's and Y/n's silly rivalry may have more to do with love than with hate; after a fatal incident, some confessions are made.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst-fluff

Tags:

Fred Weasley: @whiskeyn-rain @lumos-solemn

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa

Warnings: brief mention of violence, blood, language (this seems a lot darker than it is lmao)

A/N: idk man I just love this idiot so here it comes another oneshot. The reader's house is not specified btw. Enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

Fred spotted me and walked to stand near me before asking jokingly "On your way to kill a man, Y/n?" Oh, little did he know.

"what is that?!" I exclaimed at the sight of my friend's bruised arm.

"uhm... Nothing."

"who did that to you?" I knew the answer before I even got it. My friend had gone to break up with that Cormac McLaggen the previous night; she had finally listened to us and ended that toxic relationship they had, but apparently she got a souvenir from it.

"It's fine- he didn't mean to- Y/n don't do anything stupid." Too late, I saw red.

"I don't have time for your bullshit, Weasley." I curtly replied bumping his shoulder while I walked past him, making his smile drop in confusion. I never missed the opportunity to start a playful argument with him, but, as I had said, I didn't have time for that.

With the corner of my eye, I saw him joining my friends in the task of trailing after me.

I spotted the bastard chatting with his friends in the middle of the hallway that led to the Great Hall. "Oi, McLaggen!"

"Evening, Y/l/n." That filthy grin vanished from his face when I kicked him in the balls, triggering some gasps from our peers and a grunt of pain from him.

"Listen carefully, you loathsome pig." I leaned over to be eye to eye with him. "If you dare to lay a finger on my friend again— if you even think about it— I'll become your personal nightmare." I stood upright again, his eyes full of hate and rage following my movements. "You don't deserve a bloody warning, but I'm a generous woman." Poison dripped off my tongue, my eyes throwing daggers at him as I stepped back and turned around.

My eyes met Fred's worried ones while I made my way to my friends; they surely had told him enough for the ginger to know this was no time for joking and teasing.

His gaze then flickered behind me with panic and I realized a tad too late I shouldn't have turned my back to McLaggen; at the end of the day, pride overpowered honour in a lot of Gryffindors.

I spun around, grabbing my wand from my pocket, but I wasn't fast enough; before I knew what was happening, Fred was in front of me, serving as a human shield from the jinx.

The unknown spell hit his back and propelled us in my friends' direction. I was quickly on my knees, sitting Fred up and earning a grunt in the process, which I initially thought was caused by the fall. "Are you mental?!" My friend casted an Expelliarmus at the younger Gryffindor, long forgotten due to Fred's actions.

"My back— AH!" He yelped when I tried to pull him up.

"OI!" A first year who had made his way to the first row of students frantically gestured at Fred's back. "He's bleeding!!"

"What?!" I made him lean on me to take a look at his white shirt, now stained with blood. What I thought to be a harmless jinx turned out to be fatal.

"He's not supposed to be bleeding!" Cormac shouted, as panicked as I was.

One of my friends said something about going to look for George while the others shoot off to look for Madam Pomfrey.

"I'm gonna kill him..." Fred mumbled through gritted teeth, his voice shaky and weak. He felt so fragile in my arms, and I couldn't help the tears stinging my eyes.

"Fred—" his hands, which had been gripping my forearms, lost strength as the boy's body relaxed. "For fuck's sake don't fall asleep."

"... 'm trying..."

"FREDDIE!" His twin brother rushed to us, falling on his knees by his brother's side.

"I'm sorry." McLaggen had walked to us, keeping a safe distance.

"YOU'RE DEAD MCLAGGEN!" George stood up before I could stop him. Luckily for everyone, Madam Pomfrey showed up.

"Oh Lord! Mister Weasley, quick! Help me with your brother!" The Healer commanded, and soon they were pulling Fred off my grasp and rushing to the infirmary.

I was left in the middle of the hallway with my friends showering me with worried questions and reassurance.

What the fuck had just happened?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

During dinner, several girls and a couple of boys came to congratulate me for kicking McLaggen's balls, and it would have been a lot more satisfactory if Fred Weasley hadn't stepped in the middle.

As soon as I finished my meal, I headed to the infirmary through the now quiet halls, only to find there were too many people visiting.

Of course, George was there, along with their younger siblings and Lee Jordan, but in front of them stood Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall and none other than Cormac McLaggen himself.

"—already told you it wasn't for you!"

"How is that an apology, Mister McLaggen?" McGonagall scolded him, refraining herself from hitting the boy herself.

"You better fucking run, McLaggen, because the moment I can step out of this bed I swear on Godric I will—"

"Enough, Mister Weasley!" I almost pitied the poor woman. Her House was probably the most problematic. "All of you must go to your dormitories, Mister Weasley needs to rest." I stood on the entrance of the room, unsure of whether I should leave or enter, until Flitwick's eyes landed on my form. He redirected McGonagall's attention to me, and I felt the need of shying away. "Miss Y/l/n," I didn't miss the failed attempt of Fred to move; luckily, he was stopped by his sister. "I suppose you wanted to pay a visit?"

"Uhm... I did, Professor." I confessed, fidgeting with the sleeves of my robe. "I know it's late—"

"Don't take too long." She spoke, motioning everyone to follow her. "Curfew is still at 10." She reminded me in a warning tone, passing by.

As soon as they were out, I made my way to Fred, who lay on his stomach in one of the beds, the sheets only covering his legs an hips in order to avoid the clothing chaffing his damaged skin.

"You have a heart after all, huh?" He teased once I stood in front of him.

"How are you?" He frowned at my genuine question; the ginger surely expected me to make a witty comeback, but again, it didn't seem the time.

"A tad better." He gave me a reassuring half smile, deciding to drop our banter for a night. "Flitwick said he used a stinging jinx but casted it wrong." Fred huffed. "A bloody tosser."

He motioned at the chair behind me and I sat down, scooting closer to the bed. I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that he had jumped in front of me. It had hit his back, but I knew it was meant to hit my face —what a mess that would have been—, and I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"It's not on you." I felt my face flaring up at the ease with which he saw through me. I wasn't the first time he did that, but it was the first time he didn't use it to tease me.

"I know, I just—" I sighed. "I don't know." Though my sight was casted down, I still felt his worried gaze on me. "I'm gonna murder him."

"I reckon George will overtake us both on that." He tried to laugh but ended up in a since instead. "Or Gin. Maybe they'll team up with Ron and we'll find a corpse in the Gryffindor common room tomorrow." This time it was me who laughed. "How's your friend?"

"She'll be alright." I informed, distracting myself with a loose string at the hem of my skirt.

"And you?" I met his eyes with a hum leaving my mouth. "How are you?"

"Been better." I confessed.

Silence.

"Can you pass me the water?" I nodded, holding the glass in front of him and putting the straw in his mouth so he could take a couple of sips. "Thanks."

"No worries."

Silence again.

"Did you eat something?"

He scrunched his nose. "Not really."

"I'll go grab something from the kitchens." I didn't get far before his long fingers wrapped around my wrist.

"I'd rather have you here keeping my company." I then sat down again, his fingers only leaving my wrist to intertwin with mines. "I'm not hungry anyway."

More silence.

"Your hand is really soft." I reckon those words involuntarily escaped his lips by the way his eyes widened. "I don't know why I said that."

"Yours is too, surprisingly."

"Surprisingly?" He quirked an eyebrow at me, and I didn't quite realise what his grin was about until I spoke again.

"I imagined they'd be more rough." Oh no. "That came out wrong— I meant—"

"That you've imagined what my hands would feel like?" He was trying to bite back a laugh at the way my face turned red.

"No!"

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Liar."

There we went again; the white flag was out.

"Fuck you."

"Please." My cheeks turned even redder, and I wanted to think it was because of the anger. "You look really cute when you blush."

"You look really cute when you keep your mouth shut."

"Then shut me, love." He wiggled his brows at me.

"I would, but I don't wanna punch you in this state."

"You're very agressive." He pointed out, shocked that I didn't get what he was implying. "I meant with a kiss."

"Ew-" I pretended to gag. "no!"

He tugged on my hand and pulled me to my knees falling right in front of his eyes with our faces inches away. "C'mon Y/l/n, we're dragging this on now." His eyes kept falling on my mouth after I had unconsciously chewed on my lower lip.

"We're... We're not dragging on anything." I wasn't sure if I was trying to convince him or myself.

"Do you want me to start? Alright, you drive me mad." He forced his gaze to be fixed on mine. "You're annoying, rude and a pain in the arse." I huffed. "But you're also quick-witted and caring and brave." Gosh I hated how easily he made me blush. "Sometimes I want to punch you in that pretty face of yours but other times— most of the times— all I wanna do is kiss you." His thumb caressed the back of my hand. "Hell, I threw myself between you and that blonker without thinking twice!"

He raised his eyebrows, silently prompting me to say something, but I just didn't know what to say.

"Miss Y/l/n," Madam Pomfrey called, making me let go of Fred's hand an stood up. "It's almost ten o'clock! Let Mister Weasley rest." I nodded, not even looking in Fred's direction as I exited the infirmary.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

FRED'S P. O. V.

The morning after the incident, Dean and Neville dragged in an unrecognisable McLaggen; they were probably the only ones who cared about that bloke enough to take him to Madam Pomfrey, though they did it half-heartedly.

I was discharged after three days in, right before lunch, and obviously, I was received as a hero; several people came to praise my bravery or ask how I was feeling, but I just wanted to see one person.

That night in the infirmary I was sure she felt the same way —hell, I had been sure for a couple of months— but after seeing her reaction, I didn't really know anymore.

I could always tell her it was a prank, and we would go back to our usual bickering. "Weasley!" Shit. "Fred!" She specified when the four of us turned at the call of our surname, almost jogging in my direction. "Can we talk?"

"Go ahead, darling." I prompted her without moving from my seat.

"In private?"

"Nah," I begged Godric for her not to see behind my grin the panic that produced me the mere thought of being left alone with her.

"Are you joking?" She huffed and, after taking a deep breath, she spoke. I wasn't expecting her to speak. "So you see, you're cheeky and stupid and not nearly as funny as you think." Ginny spit her pumpkin juice due to Y/n's harsh words. "but I... ugh! Okay— I want to kiss you too."

This time it was Ron who choked on his drink. "What's going on?"

"I feel like we missed an important part of this conversation." George commented.

This time it was Y/n who awaited for an answer. "This is literally the most embarrassing thing ever, so at least say something." She commanded in a rather rude tone, tapping her shoe against the floor.

I winced ever so slightly at the effort of getting up, but it was worth it when I saw her expression as I towered her; I reckon I had never seen her that sheepish before.

"That's a really mean way of saying you're attracted to me." I observed, quirking a brow at her. "Dunno why I fancy you so much."

"Well that makes the two of us." I couldn't help but chuckle at her attitude before cupping her cheeks and bring her lips to mine.

Finally.

Despite being a short, innocent kiss, was enough to make us both blush and grin like idiots.

"Awww" I rolled my eyes at my twin's mockery, knowing damn well I wouldn't hear the end of it.

"Why do I feel like I'm gonna miss you two being at each other's throat?" I couldn't care less about Ron's question as Y/n pulled me down for another kiss.

Almost bleeding to death seemed worth it in that moment.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Meant To Be // G.W.

Request: Hi! Could you do a George x Reader where he asks her to teach him to dance for the yule ball, because he wants to impresses somebody else, but then they ✨fall in love✨, maybe they didn't know each other before this for that extra awkwardness? Thank you 💕 - anon

A/N: This is so utterly self indulgent and heavily inspired by that one scene from Anastasia. Dimitri was my first love, not even gonna lie to you all. Also, I am the furthest thing from a dancer so if I have explained anything wrong in this, I am so sorry! Despite that, I hope you all enjoy!!

Warnings: she/her pronouns, pining, feelings, emotions, dancing, mentions of food, feelings of sadness, very very light angst. THIS HAS A HAPPY ENDING!!

Word count: 4.1k

Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry had many traditions that dated back to the time of the four founders; the houses and their competition, the Quidditch tournaments, but the one that excited the entire student body had to be that of the Yule Ball.

The Yule Ball accompanied the Triwizard Tournament – a competition held between the magical schools of Europe to promote cooperation and boost friendly relations between students. From the very announcement of the Triwizard Tournament, the student body of Hogwarts became more focused on the Yule Ball and what to wear rather than the dangers posed by the trials being faced by their fellow students.

“The house of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the other houses for over ten centuries. I will not have you, in one night, besmirch his name by behaving like a babbling, bumbling band of baboons,” McGonagall’s voice calls out across the hall; her eyes steadily meeting every single gaze of the students sat around her.

Those in the hall seem to cower under her scrutiny; the power that she wields over this house being enough for every student in Gryffindor to try their best to impress the head of their house.

George has very little faith in himself at this point. A master prankster, and secretly one of the smartest wizards in the school, he has little talent when it comes to dancing. As he watches his youngest brother take to the floor with the head of Gryffindor, George feels something close to dread settle like lead in his stomach.

He would need help, and he would need it fast, especially if he wanted to ask Margot Banbridge to the ball. Margot – the girl who had caught his attention at the beginning of the month with her secret smiles and wide blue eyes. George so desperately wanted to be the one to take her to the Yule Ball, but then again, so did many of the other lads in the year. George needed to stand out and being able to dance would be the perfect way to do so.

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

The common room is loud that very evening. All students talking about the upcoming ball and the lessons completed today. Ron’s face was still red from his dance with McGonagall; he would never live this down. However, for now, George wasn’t too concerned on joking with his brother, but rather how he was going to solve the predicament he finds himself in.

“What do I do, Fred?” George pleads to his twin, “I have no idea how to dance!”

Fred laughs, “Can’t help you there, mate. I’m just as clueless as you.”

George groans; resisting the urge to shove his face into a cushion and wallow in self-pity. If he didn’t know how to dance, how could he impress Margot?

“Talk to (Y/N),” Hermione offers, absentmindedly turning the page of the heavy hardback laid in her lap, “She dances as a hobby. She might be able to help you, George.”

“Do you think she would?” George asks, worry niggling the back of his mind. He had so rarely spoken to you before despite being in the same house, “We’ve never really spoken before.”

Hermione nods, “I think she would. She’s always been kind to me when I’ve asked her for help.”

George smiles; nodding at his younger brother’s friend. “Alright,” He decides, “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

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

You could feel his gaze burning a hole into the back of your head. All morning, in every class your shared with the Weasley twin, his eyes had rarely left the back of your head. By morning break, it had started to get on your nerves. By lunch, you were more than ready to accost the redhead and demand the reasoning behind this newfound attention he seems intent on giving you.

Pausing outside the Great Hall, you move to one side to let younger Gryffindor’s pass. Out of the corner of your eye, you see George pause, turning to his twin to look as if he wasn’t just following you for the sake of it.

“Weasley!” You shout. George jumps; not out of terror, but out of being caught ogling so openly. Fred laughs as he leaves his twin to talk to you. George rubs a hand across the back of his neck, “(Y/N)… fancy seeing you here.”

You roll your eyes, “What do you need?”

“What? What makes you think I need something from you?” George questions; slightly affronted at your sudden jump to his needing of something, even if it was right.

You place your hands on your hips; shooting him an unimpressed look, “This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had in our whole seven years of education so it’s safe to say you want something from me. That, and the fact that you’ve been burning a hole into my head all morning so what do you need, George?”

George sighs; running a hand through his too long hair, “Hermione said you would be able to help me.”

Your face softens at the mention of the bright witch; you had a soft spot for the younger girl, her knowledge and thirst for witchcraft something to be found as inspiring. “What did Hermione say?”

“That you dance as a hobby and that you might be able to teach me.”

“Hermione is right on both counts. I do dance, and I am able to teach you,” You state, “But why do you need to be taught, George?”

George leans closer to you; his voice dropping to a whisper as he confesses, “I want to ask Margot Banbridge to the Yule Ball.”

“Ah,” You sigh, “So it’s all for one night with a girl.”

George frowns, “It’s for more than one night. Hopefully something will start after the Yule Ball, but I need to be able to impress her first and not step on her toes.”

A small smile graces your face as George struggles to get through the sentence without blushing. “Meet me every Saturday in the Room of Requirement. I’ll teach you how to dance.”

“You will?” He asks; hope shining in his voice.

“I will, but I’m doing this to protect the poor girl’s toes, Weasley,” You state sternly; your smile lingering at the sweetness of the redhead.

George nods solemnly, “And it’s a service you shall be recognised for. Thank you, (Y/N).”

Without helping it, a smile crosses your face. Grabbing your bag, you hoist it up on your shoulder, “Room of Requirement on Saturday at 10am, Weasley. Don’t be late.”

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

By 10am on Saturday, George can only be described a bundle of nerves. He had barely made it through breakfast; Fred teasing him all the way through it as Ron and Harry laughed along with him. The only support he found was in Hermione who seemed genuinely pleased that he had asked for help. George sent her a small smile as he managed half a piece of toast before rushing from the Great Hall; frantic about not wanting to be late for his first lesson with you.

His hands shake as he walks past the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, thinking of you and your whereabouts. The door appears after his third walk past and George hurriedly tugs open the door before he can talk himself out of it.

The room in which you have conjured reminds George of the Hall in which McGonagall had taught her first and only dance lesson. However, you’ve conjured a whole wall of mirrors that have a bar running across the middle.

George pauses in the entryway as the large wooden door slams shut behind him. The noise still hasn’t alerted you to his presence as you fiddle with a record player, a small collection of vinyl’s laid out on the small table. He watches you twiddle with the settings; the volume dial and checking that the needle is secure before turning to survey the room.

You jump when you spy George standing by the door. You greet him with a large smile, beckoning to him with an outstretched hand, “Come on in, George, I don’t bite.”

George laughs despite himself; stepping further into the large room. “What is this place?” He asks.

You turn around; arms stretched wide as you explain, “This is what the dance studio back home looks like. It’s where I spend all my time when I’m home for the holidays, so I bring it here when I can.”

“It’s wonderful,” George comments; breathless at the sheer amount of detail and personality personified by the room. He barely knows you, yet he realises he’s standing in an incredibly personal room that you’ve trusted him with. He feels honoured that you’ve put this much trust in him already.

You smile at him in thanks before turning your attention back to the vinyl’s littering the small table. You tap your fingernails against the table as you sift through the records, trying to decide which would be best to start with.

It takes a moment or two, but eventually you settle on a vinyl catering to classical music. You turn to George, holding the cover up for him to see much to his dismay, “The first few dances will be to instrumentals I’m afraid, so it’ll be classical for now.”

George frowns, but he nods, nonetheless. He’s never been a fan of classical music; not understanding the feelings that could be evoked from it. He needed lyrics in order to feel something; he needed to hear the pain or joy in the singer’s voice for him to feel the true extent of the song.

“First things first, show me what you think a hold looks like.”

George raises his arms; only feeling slightly foolish as his right arm stretches out and his left arm curls around an invisible body. His left splays across an invisible back, and he watches you appraise him.

“Am I okay to touch you?” You ask; not wanting to make him jump as you start grabbing his arms. At the nod of his head, you start to feel his framework, checking for where it lacks in definition.

It takes the better part of fifteen minutes to explain why his frame is essential to the dance when George believed that it would be his footwork that solely mattered, but by the end of your rant, he understands it all a lot better.

Then you move onto the footwork. Explaining to George that spending every minute of the song staring down at his feet was going to cause more issues than anything. You can’t help but laugh slightly each time he steps on your foot; he apologises with such sincerity that it’s hard not to forgive him either though you know your feet will be bruised tomorrow. However, as the song finishes and the needle begins to click onto empty record, you feel that George has what it takes to become a good enough dancer to woo Margot.

Breaking the hold, you rush to the record player, lifting the needle from the record and setting it to one side. “Tell me about Margot, George. Why her?” You ask as you pat your face down with a towel and grab a bottle of water, offering another to George.

George shrugs, taking the offered water bottle, “She’s gorgeous, and she’s ridiculously talented in Charms and Transfiguration.”

“Huh,” You comment.

“What?”

“I don’t know,” You reply, shaking your head with a smile George couldn’t define, “I didn’t think you would favour brains over looks for some reason, but you’ve surprised me.”

“Have you got a date?” He asks; curiosity getting the better of him.

You shake your head, “No date, but I am going to the ball with a group of my friends. It’ll be a good night; I’m looking forward to it.”

“It will,” George echoes; mind faraway, to a night in the future where he grabs and keeps the attention of Margot.

“All we need to do now if get you ready for it. You’ll be a pro in no time, Weasley.”

“You think?”

“I don’t think, I know,” You gloat, a smile crossing your face, “If we continue to meet every week until the ball, you’ll be waltzing Margot into a tizzy.”

George barks out a laugh at your words, heading for the door, “I’ll see you every Saturday then.”

“Every Saturday,” You echo as George leaves. You shake your head; vaguely wondering about the outcome of these lessons.

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

Two weeks into the lessons and a friendship forms between yourself and George. He was so enthusiastic; he was happiness personified. It was hard not to find yourself caught up in his retellings of pranks he was behind, or stories of being at home over the holidays. He had a knack for storytelling; punctuating in the right places and creating a set up that had your sides hurting from laughing so hard.

You find yourself sitting with his friends more – at meal times and in the common room; getting to know the rest of the golden trio other than Hermione, and finally meeting Fred Weasley.

“So you’re the one who’s been teaching our Georgie how to dance,” Fred states; mischief in his eyes and a smile on his lips.

“I am,” You comment, smiling politely, “He’s doing well, if you wanted to know.”

Fred grins, reaching for the jar of orange juice in the centre of the table, “I don’t doubt it.”

George rolls his eyes at the small conversation taking place between you and Fred. You smile at his reaction, but also at the blind faith placed in George by his twin brother.

“You should have seen him the other night, (Y/N),” Fred cackles, “He was practicing some footwork, stating that he needed to get it right before your lesson.”

“You weren’t?” You ask George; delighted in the blush staining his cheeks.

“I was,” He admits shyly, “But it was that really tricky part that I couldn’t get last time.”

“That’s adorable, Georgie,” You coo; reaching over to pinch his cheek. He bats your hand away with a laugh but keeps hold of your fingers for a tad longer than he should have, enjoying your attention and the sound of your laugh.

“How did you get into dancing?” Ron asks; voice curious as he munches on a piece of toast.

“It was something my mum signed me up for when I was four years old and it grew from there.”

“Do you mainly dance ballroom?” Hermione asks; eyes bright as she basks in the happiness to have her older friend sit with her usual friends.

“Not just ballroom,” You state, “I tap dance too as well as some ballet.” At their wide eyes you backpedal, “My mum wanted me to have the grace and dexterity of a ballerina before she realised I much preferred the other two. I finished ballet when I was thirteen, but I still do the stretches,” You shrug, “They help with the warm ups for other dances.”

George grins; eyes darting between you and his friends, “What did I tell you? She’s a wonder.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re only calling me that because you feel guilty for how often you step on my toes.”

Fred snorts, “Does that often does he?”

George blushes; reaching for his drink. You shake your head with a laugh, “Not now. He did a lot in the beginning, but he’s much better now.”

George’s blushes deepens as the warmth of your words settles on your skin and he meets your eyes. The gaze holds; both of you forgetting you’re sat at a table with friends as you both smile softly at the other.

Someone clearing their throat has you breaking the gaze with George. Your face heats as you meet the interested stare of his twin brother; Fred’s eyes darting between you and George as if seeing something that wasn’t obvious for the two of you.

Conversation starts up again; Fred talking to George and Ron asking Harry about a piece of homework. As their voices gather around you, you give yourself a moment to come to terms with the feelings raging in your body. You let yourself have a single instant in which you wonder whether this friendship has developed into something more for you.

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

A week before the ball and you’ve accepted your feelings for the redhead. You’ve accepted that in just over a month, he’s not only formed a friendship with you, but he’s also gotten you to fall in love with him. At eighteen years old, the world tells you that you’re too young to know the meaning of the word, but what else could describe the way you feel when you look at him? What else could explain the racing of your heart when he meets you outside your classes, an arm ready to grab your bag?

At eighteen years old, the world expects you to know so much, but not your own mind. However, at eighteen years old, you know that you’re in love with George Weasley, and all from him asking you to teach him how to dance.

“What do you think? Ready to practice a waltz, George?”

He laughs lightly; the sound being music to your ears, “Let’s try a waltz.”

From the moment the needle meets the vinyl, George has his hold ready. You glide into it seamlessly; hands joining together as George begins to lead you through the one, two, three steps of the waltz.

Distantly, you hear the music sounding from your record player. Distantly, you hear your footsteps on the wooden floor, but all you can focus on is how good it feels to be in George’s hold. To have his hands on you; how warm they feel against your skin and just how much you want him closer to you.

He continues to lead you round the floor; his eyes not leaving yours as his grip on you becomes tighter. Your mind heads into overdrive; wondering how it would feel to have his hands on different parts of your body; how he would react if you leaned forward that little bit and kissed him.

“I’m feeling a little dizzy…” You murmur; whether it’s from the spinning or from the close proximity of George, you can’t tell.

“Kind of lightheaded?” George asks; a small smile on his face, “Me too.”

“Maybe we should…” You trail off; truly not wanting this moment to end as George pauses mid spin.

“Stop spinning? I think we should too.”

“We have stopped,” You say; refusing to drop the hold, refusing to leave him.

George shakes his head; his mind becoming clearer as he comes too from the daydream he found himself in as he spun you around the Room of Requirement.

Neither of you know how long you stand there; his hand on your waist and yours on his shoulder. Neither of you know how long your chests heave; from the breathlessness of the dancing, but also from the hormones and emotions flying about the room that neither of you are truly ready to address.

Stepping back - protecting your heart mainly - you drop the hold, moving off to the side where your bag waits for you. George opens and closes his mouth a few times; unable to find the words he wants to say, unable to comprehend the feelings coursing through his body this very minute.

Holding your bag to your chest, as if having a physical barrier between yourself and George will stop the cracking of your heart, you whisper, “I think you’re ready, George.”

“You do?” He asks. They aren’t the words he wants to say; they aren’t the words that are carved into his heart, mind, and soul, but they are what he says because he can see the look on your face, and he doesn’t know what to do.

You nod, trying your best to stave off the wobbling of your lip and the breaking of your heart until you’re back in your room. “Yeah,” You say; smiling weakly, “You’re ready, Georgie. Go get your girl.”

You leave him there; rushing from the room with the last of your broken heart trailing behind you. The tears begin to fall on your way back to the common room; unable to look anyone in the eye as you sprint to your room and throw yourself on your bed.

Hiding your face in your pillow, you barely repress the scream that’s been working its way out of your chest. The way your heart was cracking in your chest, you felt certain the whole school could hear it. You felt the fool; how could you not fall for him? How could you not fall for every aspect of him? You saw him at his most nervous and you saw him at his most confident; you saw every aspect of him, and your heart gave itself so willingly that you hadn’t even noticed until it was too late.

It was too late. He was ready; he could waltz the night away with Margot and he would be none the wiser to your feelings. There was no need for him to know just how he made your heart race, or how he was the reason behind most of your smiles these days. He didn’t need to know how he featured in your daydreams; distracting you from classwork.

He didn’t need to know any of that because by the end of the Yule Ball, he’ll have wooed Margot and you’ll have returned to your dance studio alone.

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

The dance studio feels cold without him; as if in the sort time you had been teaching him, it had also gotten used to his warm presence and the light he exudes.

Following your old routine, you select a record and place it on the player. Setting the needle down, you roll your neck, stretching your muscles out as the first song begins to play.

Needless to say that while you lose your body to the music, the steps being second nature to you, you do not lose your mind. Your feet follow the steps, but your mind does not quieten as it flips through images of what George could be doing right now. How his hand would feel on small of Margot’s back; how his hand would clasp hers tightly as he leads her confidently around the dancefloor.

You hadn’t been able to attend the ball in the end. Too afraid of what you might see, and what you might feel. Too afraid to meet the eyes of those you now class a friends and see the pity reflected in their eyes as you realise that your feelings for the Weasley twin had been obvious to everyone but him.

You gasp as you catch movement in the corner of your eye; regretting leaving your wand so far away on the table. You hold a hand to your heart as you face whoever had found your room.

He stands just in front of the door; chest rising rapidly as if he ran to all the way here.

“George?” You question; automatically stepping closer to the redhead, your heart starting to sing at his very presence. Every part of you wants to reach for him, but the logical side of you makes you wait.

“I waited for you,” He states plainly with no greeting, “I waited for you and you didn’t come.”

Your eyes drop to the floor as you confess, “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t watch you with her.”

You couldn’t watch from the sidelines as George danced the night away; dancing what you had taught him. It only felt like further punishment, and for now, you had had enough of that.

“I waited for you,” He repeats.

“Why?” You ask; needing to know.

“I couldn’t take her. Not after our final dance lesson, it wasn’t fair to her or to you. So I didn’t take her. Instead, I waited outside the Great Hall for over an hour, hoping you would make an appearance. When you didn’t, I had to come find you. I knew you would be here.”

You sniffle, “You came for me?”

George nods, “I realised something after our final lesson.”

“What?”

He steps further into the room; striding forward until he stands in front of you. He tilts your face up sing two fingers; his eyes shine with happiness as he whispers, “I don’t want to dance with anyone but you.”

“You don’t?”

“I don’t. If I’m to dance with anyone, it’ll be you. I think we were meant to be; don’t you agree?”

You nod your head, faintly brushing your lips against his as you whisper, “I agree. I think we were meant to be.”

********

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @theweasleysredhair @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @figlia--della--luna @idont-knowrn @birdie-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @starlightweasley @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lestersglitterglue @msmimimerton @obx-beach @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @bbeauttyybbx @breadqueen95 @acciotwinz @kashishwrites @slytherinsunrise @kylosleftbuttcheek @remmyswritings @xfirstfemale-marauderx @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @ria-rests-here @superbturtlemakerathlete @inglourious-imagines @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @ithilwen-lionheart @ilovejjmaybank​

George Weasley taglist: @susceptible-but-siriusexual @ickle-ronniekins

[comfortwriting]

Best Friends Brother Part 3 - G.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompt Masterlist

This is part 3 of ‘Best Friends Brother’ please read part 1 and part 2, want to be tagged? let me know! 

George Weasley x Fem Reader slow burn

Warnings: mention of food and eating, swearing, 

The moment your lips touched, fireworks went off around you, George wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to him - all of your worries withering away, all you could feel was happiness and pure bliss.

George pulled away from the kiss and slowly opened his eyes, you were in shocked and couldn’t believe who’s lips had collided with yours moments before.

Opening your eyes slowly, you stared into George’s brown ones, his gentle hands holding yours and squeezing them softly.

“T-Thank you for tonight” you blushed, letting go of one of his hands, tucking a stray hair behind your ear nervously “It’s been wonderful.”

George smiled softly and nodded “it has” he paused for a moment, his thumb tracing circles into your palm “same time next week?” he asked, sounding quite nervous.

You squeezed his hand back in excitement and nodded “I would love to” you beamed.

Your three month anniversary was hanging around the corner, you had planned a whole day out on Saturday once George finished Quidditch practice, your heart fluttering in excitement and skipping beats, causing you to squirm in your seat - giggling out and squealing, confusing those around you, especially Ron who thought you were going barmy.

Despite seeing each other every day, the two of you were keeping things secret, you weren't ready for anyone to know - George knew his little brother all too well and so did you, Ron would be far from happy.

“George didn’t say anything to you after he, you know?” Ron asked, acting quite shifty in his chair.

“No he didn’t” you replied, “he’s not interested in me Ron, he just hates creeps.”

“Where were you last night?” Ron asked over breakfast, staring at you questioningly.

Shit! Think of something! I totally wasn’t kissing your brother, no, not at all.

“I went for a walk” you lied “I just had so much energy and needed to get out, I found an injured little owlet and was up all night nursing it, he’s helping me get over Penny.”

Ron believed you and nodded slowly “are you sure you’re ready for another owl?” he asked, trying to sound as caring as he could.

You sighed “I think it’s about time, yeah” you replied “It’s been almost over a year so I figured why not.”

So instead, you wrote to each other a few times a week, you had to admit, you quite liked the schedule; Wednesdays and Sundays nights were for the love letters, Saturdays were for dates unless he couldn’t skip Quidditch and the rest of the week you barely spoke and only engaged in eye contact if you were in the company of others - if not, you would hold hands and kiss in empty broom closets or even in the astronomy tower, but it was rare as Fred was never far behind from his twin.

Dearest Y/N,

Although we see each other every day and go on dates most weekends (when Ron isn’t on your back, or when I’m in detention like now) writing to you feels just as good as the real thing - but still bloody ridiculous.

Fred keeps asking what I’ve spent my Galleons on, told him it was for an experiment to do with our products we’re testing - he’s suspicious but believes me after I made myself sick to get out of Quidditch, oh the things I do for you, Y/N.

I think Gideon is the perfect name for the Owlet, mum will be so heart warmed and honoured when she finds out - but don’t bring the galleons into it of course, not until the joke shop is up and running with great success!

Seeing you last night up in the Astronomy tower was nothing short of the highlight of my day, I wish we could do it more often, but not to worry - one day we won’t need to meet up in private at all.

Anyway, I better get back to some homework before the greaseball comes over and reads this - detention with him always drags.

The next one will be longer, I promise, love.

Lots of love,

Georgie.

Dear George,

You should be focusing, get your head down and do your homework if you can bear it, I swear George, the day I receive a letter from you that wasn’t written in detention will be the day I wink at Snape - it’s silly I’m even asking you knowing that it’s never going to happen.

Your letters always cheer me up, Georgie, I can hear your voice as I read, feels like you’re sitting next to me and it’s good enough for me at the time being, I’m so thankful that we aren’t hundreds of miles away from each other.

Hey! You can’t be skipping Quidditch for me, you plonker! Gryffindor team need you and you’re a bloody good Beater - unbeatable in fact but stop skipping! we can make up for a lost date another time, I’ll try not to miss you too much I swear.

Thank you for gifting me Gideon, he is the sweetest little owlet and I cannot wait to watch him grow and to teach him like I did Penny - if his mother will let me that is. I won’t say a word to anyone, no one will know that you did such a thing although I want nothing more than to tell everyone, your kind-heartedness should never go unnoticed.

The joke shop will sweep you up off your feet and I can’t wait to see Weasley wizard Wheezes everywhere I go.

Thank you so much for last night, please don’t forget to send me your Christmas list - please don’t get me anything - Gideon is enough.

Focus on your bloody homework!

Speak soon and lots of love,

Y/N.

Looking over and your Owl, now named Gideon who had grown so much he was no longer a tiny owlet, you stroked his head and giggled at him as he nibbled on your finger.

“Alright, alright, but don’t be out too long” you whispered, opening your bedroom window, Gideon flapping his wings, leaping out and soaring into the night sky.

You beamed at your treasure, flying away to get some food for the evening, climbing into your bed as quietly as you could, hoping you wouldn’t wake up Hermione or your other roommates. Sliding your hand under your pillow, you patted around for the love letters from George you were hiding from everyone.

Your fingers grazed the corners of the crinkled parchment, lifting up your pillow you retrieved his most recent letter, taking it with you as you dive under your covers, shielding you from your roommates and giving you some privacy.

“Lumos!” You whispered, a beam of light stretching out from the tip of your wand, your cheeks flushing again upon seeing George’s handwriting.

Dearest Y/N,

Thank you for the heads-up, saved me and Freddie a lot of trouble, I swear one day Mr Filch and that bloody cat won’t know what’s hit them - if it wasn’t for you, we would’ve lost all of our plans and The Marauders Map, so thank you again for saving us all that trouble.

These three months have flown by so fast, I can’t believe it, I know this seems rather daft - a tall prankster being all lovey-dovey like this, but you really make me happy and I can’t wait to spend more time with you.

If you ever want to test any puking pastilles or fainting fancies, let me know and I’ll be able to look after you, love.

Looking forward to seeing you on Saturday so we can actually speak face to face - if Ron asks, you already know what to say.

Wrap up warm, it’ll be quite cold in Hogsmeade.

Looking forward to seeing you,

lots of love,

Georgie.

“Where are you off to so early? We never see you anymore over the weekend!” Ron complained, a mouthful of bacon.

“Oh get some manners, Ronald!” Hermione hissed, knitting her eyebrows together and grimacing.

You stood on the spot and stared at Ron, trying to plaster the most obvious expression on your face to make him feel stupid. “I’m off to spend some quality time with Gideon, he’s only a few months old and I want to make sure he’s as stable as Penny was at her age - I won’t be able to trust him to send letters long distances otherwise.” you lied.

But in all honesty, you weren’t really lying completely, next weekend was the end of term and the start of the Christmas Holidays - you wanted to make sure Gideon could deliver George’s letters to the burrow, you wouldn’t be able to hide them around for him to stumble across and pick up any more, and the two of you already discussed the problems of trying to use a device which muggles called a telephone.

“I’ll write you letters every week” George whispered, standing next to you in the corridors swarming with busy students, Fred chasing after Angelina outside “look in the middle of your textbooks, I’ll slide them in the middle of the pages.”

Opening up your book, a piece of folded parchment slid down and fell into your lap, you quickly stuffed it into your pocket, looking around to see if Ron noticed - luckily for you who he was copying Hermione’s classwork.

Ron looked lost for words, swallowing his bacon and thinking about your owl and how much you truly loved them “Alright then, well, see you later.” he replied,

You raised your eyebrows and smiled, waving goodbye to him, Harry and Hermione, walking out of the Great Hall and getting ready to meet George in Hogsmeade.

“She spends too much time with that bloody owl if you ask me” Ron muttered, stabbing some peas with his fork.

Hermione sighed “I think it’s quite sweet actually, she’s quite similar to Hagrid.”

Harry grinned and started to laugh, Ron rolled his eyes.

“Except the fact that she’s not a giant and she only flocks to birds of prey, not dragons or creatures that could kill us!”

“Well, at least you know where she’s going” Fred called out, walking past his brother “George never tells me where he’s off to and what he’s up to on a Saturday, he’s skiving Quidditch practice again and I get in bothered for it - I can’t check either because he’s got that sodding map with him!”

George wasn’t wrong, this time of year, Hogsmeade was freezing - your fingers changed colour and you could feel the ache and tingle against the freezing air that nibbled on your exposed skin.

You embraced yourself in one of the jumpers he had given you, one you were wearing under your fluffy winter coat which matched the colour of the snow. Looking around the small Village, you noticed George waiting outside The Three Broomsticks, looking slightly nervous as he scratched the back of his head.

You walked up to him, as you got closer you couldn’t help but blush at his red nose that had been attacked from the harsh winter air “Hello, George” you smiled softly, pulling him into a hug after clearing the coast of possible students.

George held you in his arms for a moment, taking in your scent and the feeling of your face against his chest, your hair under his chin as it rested on your head. “shall we get a drink, love?” he asked softly.

Following him inside and getting sat down in a quieter area of the pub, George ordered you and him a butterbeer and held your hand over the table, casually checking the map every now and then, checking on his brothers.

“It’s so good to see your face” he smiled, his starry eyes getting lost in yours.

You blushed and smiled widely, your drinks being placed down on your table, “It’s so good to see you too, can’t believe it’s been three months already!”

George took a sip of his butterbeer, the butterscotch warming up his tummy, you mirrored him, leaving behind a white foamy moustache. George smirked and leaned over the table, carefully avoiding spilling his drink as he wiped away the foam sitting on your top lip with his thumb, his index finger lifting up your chin.

The two of you exchanged a quick, risky kiss, remembering you needed to tone things down despite how hard the temptation was to snog him. George leaned back in his chair, sucking the foam off his thumb.

“I’ve been training Gideon” you beamed, the butterbeer warming you up “he’s finally got the hang of flying long distances and coming back in one piece.”

Meeting George in the small and squashed broom closet, he examined your tired features, looking slightly concerned, his hand resting against your face.

“Are you alright love?” he asked, “you look exhausted.”

You nodded and replied “I’m fine” suppressing a yawn “been up all night with Gideon, he’s growing so fast and he won’t allow me to baby him forever - he’ll be big enough to deliver letters soon.”

George felt a part of him fall in love with you all over again, the picture of you and Gideon in his mind made his insides got all warm and fuzzy - more so than his drink.

“So now he’ll be delivering you letters over Christmas!”

George went quiet and scratched behind his head like he did when he stood outside the pub, he paused for a moment and pursed his lips, licking them. “About that..” he trailed off, staring at his now half-full glass of butterbeer.

Your insides started to sink suddenly but your hopes were lifting, trying to figure out what he was going to say.

Is he staying at Hogwarts for Christmas with me whilst everyone else goes home? Am I unable to send him letters over Christmas if he goes back home?

“What is it?” you asked, both curiously and nervously.

George broke out into a smile, quickly glancing at the map again, then looking back into his favourite pair of eyes.

“Well, I was wondering...” he paused again “if you would like to stay at the burrow over Christmas, with me, everyone else of course but-”

“Yes!” you squealed, getting excited “oh George I would love to!”

George broke out into a grin, so relieved you were willing to come and spend some more time with him, a chance for the two of you to try and get some private time together, in the comfort of his own home.

“I had to ask mum ‘on behalf of Ron’ so if she says anything, just go through with it” George said quietly “Ron wouldn’t remember asking me to do such a thing anyway - his head is that clouded with Hermione.”

You swallowed down the rest of your drink, remembering to wipe away your foamy moustache this time “This is going to be wonderful, George” you smiled, squeezing his hand over to the table “Two whole weeks that we can just.. just be ourselves together!”

George smiled but remembered to remind you “We still need to keep everything on the down-low, it will be a full house and if we disappear it will be obvious we’re together - we’ll just need to wait for everyone to go to bed or go for a walk when they’re too busy to notice.”

You nodded your head, remembering that you would now be under not just Ron’s watch, but every Weasley who wouldn’t approve of your budding relationship.

George kissed your hand and looked down at the map once more, his smile dropping.

“Shit!” he panicked, getting up out of his seat.

“What is it?” you panicked, following him to the back doors in the pub.

He stared down at the map, his eyes following the group of feet storming into Hogsmeade “Fred, Ron, Harry - everyone’s heading this way - to this bloody pub!”

You swallowed hard, the butterbeer churning in your stomach, George’s drink rising up into his throat.

“When we can get away I’ll head to the owlery!” you put your coat back on, pulling the zip up quickly “you go hurry to Honey Dukes or Zonko’s when you get the chance, you’ll find your letter folded in your Quidditch jersey!”

George nodded, looking up from the map and quickly kissing you on the lips, the look in his eyes expressing the most sympathy you had ever seen.

Keeping things a secret would only get harder, harder than you and George were expecting.

Tag list: @amourtentiaa @reeophidian @inglourious-imagines @alwaysnforeverfangirl @horrorxweasley @sebby-staan @xmalfoyweasleyx​

[sunrisefairy]

Fred and George’s birthday headcanon

a/n: happy birthday to two literal balls of sunshine who are both alive and well celebrating together 

Molly would obviously bake them a cake every year (like she does for all the children) and of course they’d get to choose the flavour but the twins could never agree on 1 flavour so the cake was always half and half

Fred and George quickly made it their mission to ask for the most ridiculous flavours they could (honourable mention to their 15th birthday cake which was: dark chocolate and chilli) and but somehow the cakes always came out delicious 

When they turned 14 they were insistent on having 2 separate birthday parties because ‘we’re our own people and no one else has to share their birthdays so why should we?’ so Fred had his birthday party on the Saturday afternoon and George the Sunday. They hated it and vowed they’d always celebrate their birthdays together. 

They make everyone sing happy birthday twice (one for Fred and one for George)

Fred and George would obviously get each other birthday presents and from the ages 12-16 they managed to get each other the same gift. George to this day still doesn’t know it was because Fred would read his diary (yes George Weasley had a diary) and would figure out what George was planning on getting him and just get the same thing for George. 

When they turned 5 Ron gifted Fred with a rock he found outside and George cried because he didn’t also get rock.

Fred would always make sure George got the biggest piece of cake.

They’d definitely stretch out their birthday celebrations to last the whole of April. 

And while at Hogwarts try to use their birthday as an excuse to get out of detentions and homework. 

It worked for the most part until Fred told Mcgonagall his birthday was that Wednesday and therefore couldn’t go to detention.

But George had already said the reason he didn’t do the homework was because his birthday was on the Tuesday.

They then tried to convince Mcgonagall they were born on different days. 

She did not believe them.

[jamilelucato]

Your Embrace

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Requests:

1. @witchglow​ hey love! congratulations on your followers! 🥺💗 can i request fred weasley x reader on which they are on the grimmauld place is not have beds for all so they have to share the bed, then they end up hugging or something like and the other day they wait and are super embarrassed, but in the end the two admit that they can share the bed whenever they want (im sorry if it got confused 😿) thank u, stay safe 💗😼💖

2. @whizbangs-78​ congrats on 1.5k followers!!! could i request a fred weasley x reader with the one bed trope pleaseee??? thank youuu c: also if you're requests for this are closed feel free to ignore thank youu c: congrats on the milestone, again!!

A/N: since the requests were very similar, I decided to combine both of them, hope you two like it! again, I can’t seem to write short fics.

Send a request! ||  Harry Potter Masterlist ||  Musical Hogwarts Series

It was late in the night when Professor McGonagall fetched you and all of the Weasleys to go to Dumbledore so you could all take a Portkey back to Grimmauld Place. The Professor said something had happened with Arthur Weasley; so all of his children, you and Harry were taken away from Hogwarts. 

It wasn’t the protocol getting you to travel too, but since you were awake when Professor McGonagall showed up in a hurry and told you to fetch Ginny, you managed to convince McGonagall that you would’ve to come with the Weasleys.

When finally there, nobody was able to stay still. 

Fred and George were desperately trying to convince someone to take them to St. Mungo’s, even though Sirius repeated that it was not the smartest thing to do. The best was waiting inside of the House of Black even if it was not easy.

You noticed Fred and George weren’t going to let Sirius have a moment of peace — if there could be one at this point — so you requested a tour around the place since it was your first time there.

Reluctantly, Fred and George walked you around the house.

“He’s gonna be alright, come on; you both know it,” you said while walking through some sort of music room — it had a piano at least. “Your dad’s tough.”

George sighed but remained in silence. It was Fred that spoke.

“You can’t be sure of that. ”

You sat down in the piano, running your fingers carelessly over the musical instrument. Thankfully, the sound that came of that wasn’t loud.

“I can’t, you’re right,” you lamented, gulping.

Fred and George stared at themselves — they were in opposite corners of the room — and then they looked down at you in the piano stool.

“Sorry I was rude,” gasped Fred, stepping closer to you.

He was already taller than you, but with you sitting, the difference started to actually hurt your neck.

You shrugged in response. Fred knew you weren’t mad at him, he didn’t need to hear you say it. However, for just a second, he gazed down at you, locked in your eyes. Those moments were happening with more frequency, and that kinda worried him. He was sure he was being too obvious, and you would soon realize you saw him as more than just friends.

But you were too worried about your own obviousness towards fancying Fred to notice he liked you as well.

George looked around the room, trying really hard to not make a sound and interrupt the moment. He knew how much his twin fancied you. He suspected you desired Fred too, but he wasn’t sure yet.

You fake coughed, totally ruining the moment on purpose. Gosh, if Fred finds out I like him, he’ll never talk to me again, you thought, turning to face the piano.

“Do you guys know how to play?” you asked, running your fingers over it once again.

Fred and George exchanged looks before bursting in laughter.

“Do you take us for pianists?” George asked back before laughing again.

You should have paid more attention — they seriously didn’t look like musicians. Even so, you three squizzed yourselves in the one stool and attempted to produce music. Each of the twins sat in one of your sides, and you had to concentrate a lot to act normal with Fred’s proximity. You two were practically breathing the same air. 

George’s here too, you freak, you thought, biting your inner cheek.

At ten past five in the morning, after a dozen attempts to play Für Elise — you three couldn’t even pass the third note —, Mrs Weasley stopped by the house.

As soon as Fred and George heard the doo, they jumped out of the stool.

“ ‘S gotta be mum,” said Fred. All the calm he had gained with playing the piano with you disappeared.

“Let’s see her,” said George and they walked away of the music room without waiting for you.

You sighed, closing the piano fallboard before getting up and heading out. 

Of course, you were worried about their father, but you were also very, very tired. They were sleeping when the Professor fetched them, but you had been wide awake by the fireplace trying to finish a book you were desperate to know the end. Now, you couldn’t care less.

When you got to the kitchen, Ginny, Harry, Ron, Fred and George were around Mrs Wealsey, analyzing every word she had to say.

“We can all go and see him later,” she finished saying. It was probably a phrase that had started before you got downstairs, but there was no need to hear more — if they could go see him, it meant he’d be alright.

Fred turned his face around, looking for you, and when he found your eyes, he pressed his lips together tightly. It was his way of saying he was sorry again because you actually turned out to be correct.

“Oh, y/N, my dear, I didn’t know you were here too,” said Mrs Weasley, interrupting your discreet moment with Fred.

“Yeah,” you said, having no idea of what to say beyond that. It was weird and unexpected your presence there. Not even Hermione was there, and she was always around Ron.

You didn’t spend much time with the whole Weasley family; just Hogwarts time with Fred and George. Sometimes, you’d share trips to Hogsmeade with Ginny, but that was it.

“The more, the merrier!” said Sirius, getting up from his chair with a tender smile.

“Sure hope you think that, Sirius, ‘cause we might stay for Christmas,” said Mrs Weasley, clenching her jaw.

Sirius chuckled. “If you promise to cook.”

“Of course!” smiled Mrs Weasley, and Ginny giggled in the back.

Breakfast was served, and it was weird eating it before having slept, but nobody seemed to care. It wasn’t as good as Hogwarts’ feasts, but you didn’t mind. The fact that you were actually there — headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, organization you only heard Fred and George mention — made the details unimportant.

“You five should sleep after eating,” said Mrs Weasley, who was up behind the chairs where Fred and George were sitting. “We can visit your dad later.”

Fred seemed about to protest when his mom touched his shoulder softly, but it was a clear warning for her son to not complain, and so, Fred shut.

Harry joined some minutes later, after a long conversation with Sirius Black — who was, to you, an honour to meet. You knew that, although the Ministry was painting him as a villain, he could only be pure of heart, so much Harry spoke well of the man.

“Fred, honey, would you mind sharing your bed with George?” asked Mrs Wealsey when she noticed that her boys had finish eating. “There won’t be an extra bed for y/N, I’m afraid.”

Fred snorted, annoyed, and said: “Mum, George can’t sleep still; you know how much he moves around!”

George didn’t even bother being offended — he knew his twin was telling the truth.

Mrs Weasley puckered her forehead, thinking an alternative through. Ginny couldn’t share the bed with you — the youngest Weasley had already gotten upstairs to her bed and was probably deep sleeping right now. Ron was never pleased with sharing, and she would never bother Harry, who was being a dear just help Arthur Weasley being rescued.

“I suppose you and y/N could share it then,” said Mrs Weasley, noticing that was her only option left. She concluded you and Fred would be too tired to try anything under her nose. She was only half right about that, though. “Take my bed that is bigger in the other room, and I take your single.”

George sighed with the thought of sleeping in the same room with his mom like a toddler.

You and Fred, on the other hand, couldn’t stand to look at each other. Every time you tried, you would feel your cheeks turning red, and you would look away.

However, neither of you complained to Mrs Weasley about it, scared to lose an opportunity to be closer to each other. After helping with the dishes, you both headed, side by side, to the mentioned room.

Fred cleared his throat as you lay with your bellies up, taking extreme care not to touch each other.

“Thanks for earlier, with the music and all. It was a great distraction,” Fred said, turning just enough to see your face.

Oh, how gorgeous she is! he thought.

Your hair loose over the pillow, his big hands rested over his abdomen, your faces blushed with the closeness... 

You turned to face Fred before replying. “My mum used to play me songs in our guitar back through the first war,” you said, biting your inside cheek, suddenly embarrassed fo sharing such a personal memory. 

Fred knew that your father had died in the first war, you two had talked about it before. But it was never something that caused you pain — you were much too young when he died. It was the days when growing up, seeing the neighbours’ kids with their fathers and you having only your mom — that was when it started hurting. And that was when your mom started playing music to calm you.

“I find it quite relaxing,” you said.

“I sure was relaxed with you,” Fred said before blushing, ashamed with his unexpected confession. 

You gulped, unsure of what to say or do. You decided it was best to remain silent because Fred probably felt relaxed with all of his friends.

There was nothing left to be said, and Fred really needed to sleep if he wanted to see his father later, so you returned to your first position — facing the ceiling. You never knew, but, without your eyes staring deep into his, he was finally able to fall asleep.

On the other hand, it took you a couple more minutes to travel to the dreamland. Knowing that Fred was closer than ever before made you feel more awake than if you had slept all day. Of course, that was just a false sensation your subconscious tricked you with — soon, you were sleeping too.

“Come on, love birds! Mum wants us to come now!” yelled a voice, pulling the blankets away from you.

“Be more gentle, George,” advised another voice.

“Come on, you two!” shouted the male voice again.

It toom you a couple of seconds to finally open your eyes and take a glimpse of who owned the voices that were disturbing the most peaceful nap you had ever gotten.

Ginny stared at you with a wan smile while George held in one of his hands the cosy blanket that was once over you. But their faces were hiding something, and it was just when George smirked to you that you decided to sit up.

Fred was thinking of doing the exact same thing as you, but he was having more trouble with it since you were practically all over him.

Yeah, that’s right.

The cosiness and warmness didn’t come from the blanket — it came from Fred Weasley.

He was still laying with his belly up, but over his abdomen, you had arranged yourself, in some sort of embrace or hug. So, obviously, you blushed right away — your whole face redder than the Weasleys’ hair.

Fred was blushing too, but since you had hidden your face over your pillow — the exact one you clearly didn’t use to sleep — you weren’t able to see.

“Get out,” he muttered with grinding teeth. George pretended to be angry and walked away, tossing the blanket over the bed with no caution. Ginny took one last glimpse around before whispering for you two to not be late.

Fred sighed before taking the pillow over your head.

“They’re gone,” he said with a sad smile.

“I’m sorry for... well, wherever was that. I probably am a sleepwalker or something; I swear I didn’t place myself over your chest on purpose,” you said, biting your lip and facing him with hope in your eyes — hope that he would believe you were not a maniac.

Fred wished you had done that on purpose because that had been the most comfortable he had ever felt in a bed.

“Don’t worry about it. Sorry about my siblings,” he said, finally getting up. “I’m gonna see my mum and make sure we’re going to St. Mungo’s too.”

“We?” you echoed the word out loud, but he had already left the room, and so, he didn’t hear.

You were planning on going with the Weasleys, sure, but you didn’t know they wanted you there as well. Well, at least Fred did.

You gave Fred a few minutes to get downstairs before you. When you got there, everybody seemed to be waiting just for you.

“Sorry for not waking you up earlier, dear. You both looked so relaxed,” said Mrs Weasley, stepping towards you. She held you by your shoulders. “I prepared both of you sandwiches, so you can eat faster.”

She let your shoulders go and grabbed one sandwich over the table — the second one was already half-eaten by Fred Weasley in the other corner of the kitchen. You were too embarrassed thinking that even Molly saw you hugging Fred in your sleep to say something other than thank you.

“Your trunks are here too,” the woman mentioned, with a small smile. Fred finished his sandwich, so you hurried to finish yours. “Tonks? Mad-Eye?”

With Mrs Weasley calling, both of the mentioned walked in the kitchen and Ginny rushed to Tonks, hugging her tightly.

“Nymphadora?” you asked, almost choking on the last bite. The short pink hair was the essential clue for you to connect the surname to the person. You just didn’t call Tonks Tonks, it was a childish habit, but it was unforgettable.

“Don’t call me...! Hey, it’s you!” exclaimed Tonks, as soon as Ginny freed her and ran to your side, hugging you. “You grew up, Merlin!”

You let out a hearty laugh while struggling to breath. Tonks finally freed you, but still stayed by your side. You knew each other because you were neighbours for a while, and often your mother alone could not take care of you — Nymphadora always offered (for a sickle a day) to babysit.

If it was up for you and Tonks, you’d have stayed the day talking, but Mrs Weasley kindly reminded there was a place you needed to be. 

The trip to St.Mungo’s was, to say the least, embarrassing. Every time Fred would lock eyes with you, your cheeks would turn red, and it felt like everyone knew how you too slept. Together, tightly, legs intertwine... Yeah, you had to fight yourself to not remember those things.

Thankfully, you and Tonks got a minute to talk when the family walked in with Harry to see Arthur Weasley. She told you everything about her job and how she liked to now be a part of the Order. “Sure Dumbledore will ask you to join when you come of age,” she even mentioned with a nudge of shoulders. 

The Weasleys trooped back into the corridor. Tonks glanced at you, but she already knew you weren’t going to come in, so she went in with Mad-Eye and closed the door behind them. Fred raised his eyebrows towards you — he wasn’t seriously expecting you had something to talk with his father, right? — but then George suggested to listen behind the door, and everybody was distracted for a moment.

After that espionage, Harry Potter started acting odd as ever, but definitely not more than you and Fred. Ginny and George would look from Fred to you, and then they would giggle. Somehow, that was making matters worse.

Back at the headquarters, things still weren’t easy.

“Ginny, would you mind sleeping with y/N?” whispered Mrs Weasley in what she hoped was a tone you wouldn’t hear, but you did. You stepped away as quickly as you had stepped in, and turned around, desperately trying not to overhear that conversation.

So Fred asked to not sleep with you again. That was presumable but still unpleasant. 

Ron asked for your help to decorate the house for Christmas, and you accepted gladly, hoping the task would take your mind out of Fred.

Ron was worried about Harry — he seemed to think whatever Harry heard Mad-Eye talk upset him. You agreed and added that Ron should just give Harry some time, without pushing him.

Ginny joined to help, and as soon as Ron went to the back to get a stair, Ginny rushed to your side and elbowed you.

“So, don’t know if you heard, but I told mum I wouldn’t sleep with you,” she said with a smile.

You almost dropped the ornament in your hand.

“Sorry?”

“So you can sleep with Fred again, duh!” she kept the smile on.

“Hm, Ginny, I’m pretty sure your brother doesn’t want that to happen again,” you said, avoiding to look at her happy face. “He asked your mum to change the place I was sleeping in.”

“What? No, y/N! Where did you get that idea? Mum’s the one trying to part you too,” Ginny laughed at your ridiculousness. “She thinks you two are secretly dating and she can’t let ‘Fred make her a grandma so early’.’’

Your eyes widened as you slowly turned to face Ginny, but first making sure no other Weasley was around.

“Her words, not mine,” added Ginny quickly and she burst into laughter staring at your silly face.

“Good Lord. I hope you corrected her about my relationship with Fred,” you sighed, pressing a hand over your heart. “I completely forgot she had gotten a glimpse at us this morning,” you whispered, just to yourself really.

“Why would I correct her? He wants you, you want him. Just a matter of time ’til she’s right” said Ginny and she started running away from you because the face you made was positively scary.

When decorations were up, and Christmas spirit was finally in the house, it was already time for bed again. Fred and George had gotten upstairs before you because you pretended to be really interested in Mrs Weasley’s knitting. The truth was you didn’t want to face Fred again.

You sighed, giving up in your fight. You should face Fred once and for all. Speak the truth, walk away and sleep in the couch downstairs.

But when you got into the room, and you saw his face, you just froze. He was laying on the bed with his belly up and his eyes closed — for a moment, you thought he was sleeping, but then his breathing wouldn’t be completely unregulated.

“Fred?” your voice was too high, and you ended up scaring him. He jumped up, sitting down immediately. “Sorry,” you muttered, sitting down in front of him.

You both breathed hard. Fred seemed to want to say something, but you would never know because you interrupted his half-open mouth with yours.

You kissed him in a rashed and inexperience way, after all, he didn’t expect that. And, honestly, neither did you.

Fred suspected that either you would ignore him forever and pretend that the nap shared in an embrace never happened or that you would hit him and kick him out of the room. Feeling your lips on his was a more fanciful idea than any he has ever had.

It took Fred a little while to get rid of the shock, but when he realized that you were kissing him because you wanted to, he gave in, pulling you by your waist and sitting you over his lap. He smirked in the middle of the kiss, causing you to let a slight giggle out. Your hands went from his cheekbone to his hair, and you played with it with pleasure.

“If I knew the way to your heart was napping with you, I’d have done it sooner,” Fred whispered, breathing hard when your lips were away from his.

You smiled, “you got to my heart way before you slept with me, Fred Weasley.”

He squeezed your waist, pushing you away just enough so he could see your face. You blushed when your eyes met.

“Good to know that,” he smiled too. “ ‘Cause I’ve been thinking all day that you were ignoring me, that you hated me... ”

“I thought you were ignoring me!”

You two giggled at your stupidy.

“Sorry for kissing you out of nowhere,” you sighed, slowly placing your hands on his shoulders.

“You are welcomed to do it anytime you want,” he said, looking down to your lap still over his.

“Like now?” you smirked too. “Because I feel we lost too much time sleeping today...”

“Y/N, I’ve been thinking exactly the same thing,” he susurrated and smirked, pulling you closer to his chest and kissing you harder than before.

And this time was just perfect.

__

Bonus:

“So how was last night?” Ginny asked as soon as you steeped in the kitchen the next morning.

You could have stayed in bed curled in Fred forever — you sure wanted to— but you knew that if Mrs Weasley had any more reason to believe you and Fred were together, nights in the same bed would be over.

And so, doing the things you did last night would be way harder to achieve.

“What you mean?” you asked, grabbing a mug of hot cocoa.

“Please,” Ginny rolled her eyes. “See that look in my brother’s face? Last time I saw him that happy was when he got a new broom.”

You turned your face insignificantly to see Fred, who was sitting at the end of the table, eating some sort of bread with Geoge right next to him.

You frowned slightly to Ginny, who rolled her eyes more time.

“Good Merlin, I won’t be able to be two meters near you two, will I?”

You giggled and tried to hide your smile with the mug. Fred heard the sound of your laugh and instantly turned to your direction. His eyes wandered your whole face, and he fixed them in your mouth. He licked his lips before smiling and blink, and then he turned to his twin as if he was paying attention to George all along.

When your heart started beating again, the rest of the Weasleys and Sirius Black had gotten to the kitchen too.

“Where’s Harry?” Ginny asked Ron, but he shrugged. Harry was going through his own problems. “Well, anyway, pay up, will you, Ronniekins.”

“What?” he looked at Ginny, “wait, what?” he looked at you. “Couldn’t have waited one more night, could you?”

Ginny smiled when Ron tossed her a sickle.

“You guys placed a bet over Fred and me?” you whispered to the red-haired girl.

“Sure I did, and I won,” Ginny smiled while you rolled your eyes. “If it makes you feel any better, Fred lost. He said you would never like him back.”

Your eyes went from Ginny to Fred across the table, and for a minute while you looked at him, you forgot his entire family was there, and you sighed like a girl in love. Well, that was what you were anyway.

When you and Fred finally got time alone, you gave him a sickle.

“You should never have bet against us,” you said, placing the coin in his hand.

“Never doing that again,” he promised with a soft smile before pulling you close one more kiss.

[breaniebree]

Sneak PEEK -- Chapter 303: The One With the Anonymous Wizard's Pages

“I’m bored. Come out and play with me.”

“I can’t,” Ginny said. “I really need to finish these articles by tonight or Colin will have my hide.”

“It’s true,” Colin said, looking up from the desk across the room. “This has to be done tonight.”

Theo sighed dramatically and hopped off of the desk. “What am I supposed to do then?”

“Homework? Go for a walk? Hang out with Luna?”

“Luna’s snogging Channing. Where’s your boyfriend? I’ll make him entertain me.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “He’s playing chess with Ron.”

Theo wrinkled his nose. “That’s boring. Unless they’re naked. Are they naked?”

“I highly doubt it,” Ginny said.

Theo hopped up onto the desk again. “Did I tell you that I bought these new sleep pants from Pansy’s shop? Silk and gorgeous. They’re comfortably baggy and cling to me like a second skin at the same time. It makes my arse look bleeding fantastic!”

Colin grinned. “I don’t know, Theo. You didn’t even make the top three.”

“Top three what?”

“Best Arses of Hogwarts,” Colin said, tossing him an article.

Theo jumped up to get it when it fell on the ground. “Why do you think I can catch things?” he whined before he flipped the paper over and the bored expression on his face changed to glee. “Oh my gods! Who wrote this?”

Ginny shrugged, her eyes on her notes. “We don’t know. Someone anonymously submitted it to the paper and Colin and I thought that it was too perfect to pass up. Carlyle agrees and we think that we’re going to publish it in the next issue.”

Theo began to read it aloud, grinning the whole time.

Hogwarts Wizards Pages — Too Fit Not to Fancy!

We’ve decided to compile a list of the most delectable and fit blokes that grace the halls of Hogwarts and of course, who has the Best Arse. To show our delicious choices, we’ve even gotten some great photos to showcase our very fit and prime choices of Hogwarts’ Top Wizards!

Honourable mentions. We can’t in good conscience write this list without including the two seventh year Slytherins, Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. The blond Aristocratic Adonis with his beautiful blue-grey eyes, sexy pout, and great arse is certainly missing around the halls when it comes to great eye candy. And don’t even get us started on the Incorrigible Italian! From his sexy smile to his ability to charm every person he met out of their knickers in mere seconds, Blaise Zabini was sexy and he knew it! These two sexy blokes are dearly missed and may they rest in peace!

Now, let’s move onto the Top Ten Best Arses of Hogwarts!

Number Ten falls to...

[dumblydork]

Another Hinny headcanon! Bit of an AU because a few characters are alive *sniffs*

I was itching to write something but had zero ideas (and was also busy crying over the Marauders schoolwork) but here I am again so enjoy!

Also this is kind of meh but pls don't mind thanx

----

Molly's red hair shone from at the front of the rows of white chairs, where she sat with her husband's arm around her, shaking slightly with tears. Or atleast that was what was told to Harry when Ron walked into the Room of Requirement.

"Are you all set? Ginny's ready, she's looking lovely." Ron smiled at him. Harry nodded, his throat suddenly constricted, rendering him unable to speak. He stood by the closet where he had changed into a black tuxedo with a bowtie, which at the moment felt impossibly tight.

"Merlin, your hair just never sits, does it?" Hermione's voice echoed as she walked in quickly, staring at the top of Harry's head.

"I used so much Muggle hair liquid-"

"Gel," Hermione corrected Ron.

"Yes, gel. We'll have to make our peace with his unruly hair." He continued.

"Harry, are you alright? You don't look too good." Hermione approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm alright, just slightly anxious." He finally turned around to face his best friends. He forced a smile but he knew his best friends could tell.

"Oh Harry. There's no reason whatsoever to be so anxious. Last time I checked, Ginny wouldn't have proposed if she didn't want to marry you." Hermione smiled, but looked at Ron for support.

"Oh definitely, it's totally unlike Ginny to propose to someone she doesn't want to marry." He made a joke which worked, as Harry gave out a laugh.

"It's time." Two identical voices said. Fred and George popped their heads inside the room as Hermione let out a small squeak and rushed out.

"How is it being married?" Harry asked Ron for what was probably the thousandth time that day.

"For the last time Harry, it's amazing. You and Ginny love each other and that's all there is to it, really. Now come on, we have to be there before Ginny." Ron grinned as he put an arm around Harry and led him out of the room onto the grounds.

Harry and Ginny had settled on Hogwarts for their wedding venue as it was the one place where they shared a lot of memories; their first kiss was in the Gryffindor common room, for instance. Not to mention all those quiet moments they spent under trees in the grounds.

The place looked beautiful- the altar was set right next to the lake, decorated in white and pink flowers. Ginny had always wanted a summer wedding right at Hogwarts. It was almost impossible to believe the war was over 4 years ago, and Hogwarts was back to normal. There was only one person who could officiate the ceremony, and he was currently standing in the middle of the altar, broadly smiling at Harry who walked towards him, Ron to his back.

"You look a bit queasy, Harry." Remus whispered with a grin.

"I'm just nervous," Harry attempted a smile.

"You'll be okay- there's really not a lot to marriage." Remus added helpfully, as Harry looked at Tonks and Ted, who was currently sat in his mother's lap, waving his chubby hands at his godfather.

Harry managed a wave back, feeling already better looking at his godson's hair which had turned a milder blue for today. Tonks smiled reassuringly at Harry as well, her hair red for today.

He looked to the other side of the seating to see Molly Weasley still shedding tears but smiled happily when her eyes met Harry's. The Weasley siblings and their wives all sat behind them, except Ron who was Harry's best man.

McGonagall sat next to the Weasley parents, wearing velvet robes, a small smile continuously on her face. She was currently chatting merrily to Hagrid who was to the side of the main seating rows, a chair for him separately.

The rest of the chairs were occupied by his close friends and family, Dudley and his wife also on one of the closer front rows. Dudley waved a small hand, no doubt intimidated by all the wizards and witches around him but trying his best not to show him. Seamus was trying his best to talk to Dudley, being the closest Muggle born.

He looked at one of the chairs in the front row next to Tonks, which was left empty with a black dog plushie. Harry could feel tears line his eyes as he thought of Sirius- how happy he would have been to see his godson get married. The two chairs next to Sirius' didn't help his tears either- they were also lefy empty for his parents- a similar stag plushie next to Padfoot's and a single Lily flower. It was Ginny's idea and Harry loved her all the more for it.

Harry's appraisal of the audience was cut short when the choir started the music and everybody straightened up. All eyes were on Harry, until a few heads turned around to see the bride. However, Hermione walked in first as the matron of honour, wearing a pastel pink dress which Harry noticed for the first time. He could slightly hear Ron gasp, no doubt reliving his own wedding. She came and stood to the side, smiling broadly at her husband and Harry.

And finally, there she was. Ginny was the image of gorgeous- she was wearing a traditional white gown, off her shoulders with a very long veil trailing behind her. Her fiery hair was tied up in a bun, he could tell. Harry could feel his heart thumping- it was a mixture of elation and anxiety, but more elation. Ginny was going to be his wife- they would be together for the rest of their lives.

Ginny was finally here, standing right in front of him. She was the opposite of the blushing bride, waving happily at baby Ted and her parents, both of whom were crying now. "Psst. Harry." Ginny whispered.

"Hi." She smiled, bringing Harry back to reality.

"Hello." He said breathlessly.

"You'll have the rest of your lives to talk, I'm starting the ceremony." Remus admonished playfully; both of them knew he was teasing them.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today," He started but Harry did end up blocking the rest of the ceremony out, too busy staring at Ginny who would look at him and then laugh at something Remus had added into the speech and then look back at him. It was all very dreamy.

"Do you, Harry James Potter, take Ginevra Weasley to be your faithfully wedded wife?" He could hear Remus say.

"I do," Harry managed.

"And do you, Ginevra Weasley, take Harry James Potter to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do." Ginny smiled and for the first time that day, Harry saw her blush.

"And finally, the moment I can SEE Harry has been waiting for, you may now kiss the bride." Remus laughed. But Harry couldn't care- this was the moment he had waited for ever since he had been dating Ginny.

He lifted the veil but before he could do anything, Ginny dragged his neck down and pressed her lips on his, leaving Harry stunned. He could hear cheers coming from the audience, most strongly from the twins.

"And now I declare you husband and wife!" Remus finished, as he hugged both of them together. "Have the best life ahead." He whispered before pulling away.

Harry and Ginny faced their audience, made up of the people they loved the most, but turned back to each other. They were each other's better halves, and now they were married, bound by magic (and law) to be together for the rest of their lives.

-sometime later-

"Throw the bouquet, Ginny!" Luna almost yelled and Harry could have sworn that was the first time he had ever heard Luna speak at a volume louder than a whisper.

"Okay, here it goes!" Ginny turned out and threw the bouquet of pink lilies behind her, her eyes shutting close.

"Aw no!" Collective groans came from the crowd, and she turned around to see who had caught the bouquet.

It turned out that baby Teddy was holding the bouquet which was also bigger than his face, while Tonks' hair colour changed furiously. The baby was laughing as if he he knew it was funny and it was infectious- the rest of the crowd burst out laughing literally a second later.

Ginny turned happily to Harry. "So Mrs. Potter, how do you feel?" Harry asked after pulling her slightly away from the noise.

"Perfect, Mr. Potter. I like the sound of my new name." Ginny smiled, placing her head on her husband's chest. Harry placed his chin on top of Ginny's head, standing quietly under the shade of the big tree where they had first sworn to be together.

Until a wolf whistle broke them apart, or rather two, identical, wolf whistles.

~~~

[sitp-recs]

The Snitch-Maker by Omi_Ohmy

Harry/Draco (2014, Teen and Up, 21k)

Draco is content with his Snitches, with the tap tap tap of his hammer, and the tiny gears and sharp scent of metal in his workshop - until one day Harry Potter appears, asking for help to solve a rash of Snitch-tampering in the Quidditch world. Career Choices: Harry: QUABBLE official (Quidditch representative); Draco: Snitch-maker.

Only when he was halfway through making his tea did Draco realise that he’d thought of Potter as a hero. And then he remembered seeing Vincent fall, and the roaring flames. He understood then that he’d thought of Potter as hero for years. An ache twisted through him, and he wasn’t sure it was for himself, or Potter. Or maybe for everyone who’d lived through those awful years.

In the spirit of saving my honour (ha!) to explore all that Kinkuary goodness over the weekend, last night I went for some T-Rated Quidditch shenanigans by one of my favorite authors. This is such a creative, gentle and easy read I could keep on reading it forever. I love Draco’s lonely and controlled routine, his fascination with the almost Muggle snitch mechanics, the organic pacing and the mystery underneath the quiet slice-of-life atmosphere. Most of all, I love to see Harry and Draco cross paths again thanks to Quidditch, but without being popular players as we usually see. Harry’s knee injury makes for an amazing disability subplot and gives them a depth and maturity that I really appreciated. Besides, Draco in an apron and leather gloves and Harry being absolutely thirsty about it? Yes, please 🔥

I wish this fic was 50k because I got absolutely immersed in Draco’s delicate work and in their dynamics! They’re both clever and thoughtful and kind, and they read each other so well, my heart can’t take the gentleness. Harry’s faith in Dracos innocence and charming enthusiasm about the beauty of his work made my heart flutter. Not to mention the imagery of him as an earnest puppy, omg I love that Draco sees him that way! Lastly, those career choices suit them perfectly and there’s so much room to explore - I wouldn’t mind seeing this concept more often! This is a lovely comfort read, with an engaging case and a quiet and introspective slow burn as per this author’s trademark. It warms my heart to see our lonely boys helping each other heal. On that note, both the Snidgets scene and the ending scene are the most wholesome things I’ve read all week, so gentle and atmospheric, with a tiny bit of angst that gave me a lump in the throat. And don’t even get me started on supportive Ron, Luna’s amazing house, Harry asking Draco to say his name! So many great great moments. This was the best way to close a busy but happy week, and I’m sure you guys will love it as much as I did!

Read on AO3

[doyelikehaggis]

Ginny Weasley and Landon Kirby!!

So this is nearly like a month late! And I am so sorry for that!! I got very distracted, wrote half of this, then left it for like two weeks, so you have my sincerest apologies! But I hope you enjoy this!! ❤️

Ginny Weasley:

• Headcanon for their sexuality — Oh, she has the biggest bi energy out here. She probably figured it out really casually as well, like, she realized she had a bit of a crush on Tonks and was like, "Oh.”

• Have they come out? If so, how — She came out to Bill first, because she remembers him telling her about the boy he fancied when he was in fourth year, and she trusts he’ll be kind, so she waits until he’s visiting and slips it into conversation when they’re alone in the garden. Then she casually tells Luna while they’re reading a book that mentions this queer witch from centuries ago. Then comes the rest of her family, little by little. When it came to the media finding out after the war had settled however, now, that was a far more dramatic and hilarious story; the rumours flew around faster than her supposed secret lovers from her team! She definitely played them up and let people speculate for months, finding the whole thing downright ridiculous but at least entertaining.

• How their friends/family took their coming out:

Bill is as supportive as she expected. He smiles this knowing smile and hugs her, then they’re back to de-gnoming. “I’m happy you trust me.”

Ron is the second sibling she tells, because even though he can be a bit dense, she listened to him gush for hours about Krum, Harry, and his favourite Chudley Cannons player. He stares for a minute like he doesn’t quite know what she means, then he’s making her promise not to date any of the Gryffindor girls in his year because “Dean was one thing, alright, but if you and Lavender—“

George blinked for one second of surprise when she casually mentioned that she was thinking of asking Katie on a date to Hogsmeade, and if he thought she’d say yes, then he shrugged and told her she has a good chance. When she caught his eye, he shot her a soft smile. “If any of my other teammates catch your eye, let me know and I’ll see if they’re interested.”

Arthur was so understanding and supportive that she cried. They were talking, and she couldn’t keep it in anymore, and she just told him. He nodded, shifted closer in his chair as she rambled a bit to try and explain what she meant. When she wouldn’t look at him, he gently took her hand, and she lifted her eyes to meet his and he was smiling. She just started crying and he hugged her until she calmed down. “Thank you for telling me. I’m happy that you’re being who you are, and I will always love you for that.”

Fred grinned like it’s the best thing he’s heard all year when she told him about her date with Katie. He congratulated her, hooking an arm around her shoulders, and proceeded to ask many questions — mostly about her date. “Mum’s gonna accuse the two of us trying to end our lineage.”

She gave Fred and George full permission to tell Percy, because she honestly wasn’t sure about doing it herself. They do it in some really obvious but attempting to be subtle way, when Ginny isn’t there. He doesn’t react then, but he comes to find her later in her room, and he sits down with her. He tells her that it doesn’t matter to him, and he’s sorry that she didn’t think she could tell him. She assures him she was just nervous and he understands. “I will always protect you. Even when you don’t need me.”

Charlie was delighted. She told him in a letter because she wasn’t sure when she’d see him but what he wrote back was nothing but love and support, and he actually came out to her at the same time, and promised to talk properly in person next time he visits. “If you need someone to talk to in the mean time, I’d recommend Tonks, she’s brilliant.”

Molly was the one she was most scared to tell. That’s why she waited so long before finally telling her while they were getting dinner ready. She stared at her back, waiting for her to respond while she dried a plate to set it on the table. When her mum turned to face her, she was wearing a small smile, and said, “Okay,” then handed her another plate and continued with the dishes. Ginny didn’t know what to make of it. Dinner was quiet. It wasn’t mentioned again, and Ginny decided that her mum tolerating her future relationships like she tolerates Bill’s marriage and Charlie’s lack of one was probably the best she was going to get.

As for her friends; she told Luna over a discussion about a queer witch from centuries ago, and Luna had smiled, chin in her hand, and said she was happy to have a friend who shared how she felt. Harry had sat in silence for a moment long enough for her to worry, then quietly asked, “If you’re allowed to feel like that in the wizarding world, does that mean... guys are allowed to feel that way about about other guys?” And she had indeed gone to Tonks once or twice, who was as delighted as Charlie, practically bouncing, and promised to be like a big sister if she needed her for anything.

• Do they go to pride? If so, with whom? — Ginny discovers that Pride is a thing through Tonks, who excitedly tells her everything about it at an Order meeting. She asks if Tonks will take her, which is the height of honour to her. Ginny casually mentions it to Fred and George in the passing, and they ask to tag-along. Bill trusts Tonks, but he still comes along. Just in case; those four out in the Muggle world is a recipe for disaster. She manages to convince Harry to join, too, so of course Ron’s there, and Luna was already planning to go with her dad anyway so they meet up.

• Do they show their colours? (Flag-wise) — After coming out to everyone she cares about, Ginny is happily confident in letting everyone else know. She wears the bi colours to Pride, and she got a few badges there courtesy of George that she has pinned somewhere on her outfits nearly all of the time around Hogwarts.

And now Landon Kirby!

• Headcanon for their sexuality — I just get very strong ace vibes? And possibly bi. It just makes Sense to me.

• Have they come out? If so, how — He told Rafael before anyone else. Just sorta blurted it out to him in their room after many, many days of overthinking how he’d say it. Telling Hope and Josie was then easier, as they were preparing one of their movie nights.

• How their friends/family took their coming out:

Rafael was the most supportive person in Landon’s life about everything, so this was no different. He picked up on Landon’s anxiety while telling him and approached his response with great comfort, assuring him that it changed nothing, he loves him unconditionally, and he would be right there by his side to stand up to anyone who said one word about it. His response actually made it easier for Landon to be more confident in accepting who he is.

Hope reacted in a similar way. She saw how nervous he was and told him that it didn’t make her feel any differently about him. He was a little more worried about telling her he was ace, but she smiled and hugged him, promised that they would never do anything he didn’t want to and she was okay with that.

Telling Josie didn’t feel as daunting; after all, he knew how open she was about her own sexuality, so easing it into a conversation made him less anxious about how she’d react. Sure enough, she gave him a soft, knowing smile behind the wide eyes, and they were joking about it within two minutes.

Lizzie was downright delighted. She claimed that she picked up on the “vibes” from him right from the beginning but couldn’t be sure, so she was just waiting to see if he ever said anything. He of course rolled his eyes at that, but he was grinning as she plunged into a seemingly endless well of questions — mostly about if they had the same taste in people, because they have Hope in common, so she wanted to see if it stretched to her two-week crush on Jed, or her infatuation with Sebastian. They got into a whole debate over Star Wars characters.

Kaleb honestly thought that Landon was already out, so that was more of a surprise to him. He swears hands-down that they had flirted a couple times, so he just assumed! It was a funny moment.

MG was bright smiles and literally just a ball of supportive sunshine. But actually, while talking about it, Landon kinda helped MG realize that he may not be too straight either. It was a nice, very insightful conversation that helped both of them.

Wade could not be happier. He had already come out to Landon a few months before during a D&D game— something that had given Landon a little push — and he’s so glad that Landon trusts him and sees him as someone important enough to share this part of him with. He, of course, also told him while they were playing D&D; he slipped it into his character’s story.

• Do they go to Pride? If so, with whom — Landon doesn’t really know what Pride actually is until he joins the Salvatore School, and after he comes out, Josie gives him a better idea. Mystic Falls hosts Pride every year (it’s a new tradition, really, but the town’s trying to pretend it’s always been so progressive), and so she invites him along. He’s unsure since crowds aren’t really his thing, but Lizzie is insistent (she admits she just wants to see if she can find the love of her life and maybe someone for him if he’s willing), and Hope says she’s going too, and after Wade, Kaleb, and MG invite him as well, it’s hard to say no.

He goes with them all and actually… it’s pretty cool. It’s the most colourful he’s ever seen the town, that’s for sure. And it’s fun!

• Do they show their colours? (Flag-wise) — He’s proud to be himself, obviously, but at the same time, he’s still more comfortable with keeping it quiet from anyone outside of his close friends, so he doesn’t tend to display either of his flags colours too often. He does make an exception for the second time he goes to Pride, though.

So, this was long. I don’t know whether to apologize for that for or not but again, I hope you enjoy some of these headcanons! I had the most fun with the reactions from the rest of the Weasley’s!