#hp lightning era

[rewritingcanon]

future oliver wood because hes so girl dad coded:

[lafleshlumpeater]

✧.* ɪᴛ'ꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏᴛ ꜱᴜᴘᴇʀᴘᴏᴡᴇʀꜱ

ˢᵉⁿᵈ ᵐᵉ ᵃ ᵈᵉᵗᵃⁱˡᵉᵈ ᵈᵉˢᶜʳⁱᵖᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ⁽ᵃᵖᵖᵉᵃʳᵃⁿᶜᵉ ⁺ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵃˡⁱᵗʸ⁾ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱ'ˡˡ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᶠⁱᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉˡᵒⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ!!

Sooo physical description brunette, blue eyes, 5’3 & 1/2 ft. Tall, freckley, kinda defined muscles, but also kinda curvy too yk?? Personalityyyy I’m creative, stubborn, friendly, either obsessive or easily distracted, I’m suuuper social, funny, sarcastic, one of my main personality traits is doing swim lol. I draw allll the time and I’m constantly reading/writing too!

idk why this is just sm hp lightning era to me

harry would be so down for you

ginny to icel

and hermione and pansy would be your bffs <33

[nicolillies]

drarry spider-man au 🕸️

walk with me here, harry raised by wolfstar. draco is the mayor’s son who figures out pretty quickly that harry is spider-man.

[marauder-misprint]

A strong memory

Fred Weasley x reader

2k words

cw: fluff

After Harry finished explaining how to cast a Patronus charm and to gather the power from a happy memory, the members of Dumbledore’s Army dispersed throughout the room. Some students went straight into attempting to cast it, barely lingering on which memory to choose.

“Plenty to choose from, right, George?” Fred asked, readying his wand.

“Right, Fred,” George echoed as he crossed his arms over his chest to watch his twin attempt the spell. 

You sat down near where the twins took turns attempting to get even a blue mist to erupt from the ends of their wands. Expecto patronum was repeated around the room with various levels of success. It made you feel better that no one got it on their first attempt, and even more so that there were others who hadn’t attempted it yet. Those who, like you, were still trying to decide which memory might be the happiest. 

You reflected on your childhood. Memories with your siblings and cousins made you smile. Holidays spent being silly and feeling loved. These were good memories, but they didn’t feel like your happiest. 

You considered when you received your Hogwarts letter. Professor McGonagall visiting your family to explain the situation, Hogwarts and your powers. It felt wondrous to know that you weren’t as odd as you had always thought you were, but it also drove a stake into your relationships with your siblings. 

Then there were all the moments that you treasured while attending Hogwarts. There were so many. Weekends at Hogsmeade and watching quidditch. All the victory celebrations in the common room and the feasts in the Great Hall. Even simple moments in class flitted in and out of your mind. 

A brilliant blue light appeared in front of your eyes, promptly bringing you out of your reflective state. It took you a moment to recognize the shape as it fully formed and became more defined. A magpie was flying around you as Fred laughed. 

“Expecto patronum!” George cast, determination on his face to match his brother’s success.

Similarly, there was blue that solidified into a mirrored magpie. The two birds chased each other as the twins watched in awe, identical grins on their faces. You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you watched both pairs of twins; their joy in their own success was contagious. The rest of the room had a pleasant air to it as well. In success and failure, everyone was thinking about their happiest moments. 

Then Fred’s gaze fell onto you. His patronus faded with his focus. 

“Going to give it a go?” he asked, taking a step toward where you were sitting. 

You shrug your shoulders and sigh. “Not sure which memory to use.”

George appeared at Fred’s side, looking down at you before holding out his hand to help you up.

“Don’t tell me you don’t got happy memories, love?” George asked. 

“I have happy memories. Just the happiest? Which is the most powerful?” you aired your concerns. “I’m worried some of the happier ones are tainted and they’re too bittersweet to be happy.”

In sync, the boys crossed their arms over their chest and tilted their heads in confusion.

“Tainted?” George asked while Fred said, “Bittersweet?”

You gently raked your fingernails over your forehead.

“Memories with my cousins I rarely see anymore or with my siblings who didn’t take finding out I’m a witch too well.”

Fred nodded knowingly. “Jealousy is a poison.” He nudged George, grinning. “Ronald would know ‘bout that, wouldn’t he?”

George laughed loudly. “Yes, yes he would.” 

“Only one way to find out if the memories are any good,” Fred said. “Wave that wand!”

You decided to try a memory with your siblings. You picked one from a Christmas before you came to Hogwarts, before you found out that you were a witch. Everyone was getting along. Your parents had made plenty of sweets and a hearty feast for your small family. Sitting by the tree with a fire in the hearth, you exchanged gifts and your younger siblings squealed with joy as they unwrapped present after present. It was a good memory. It was a classic Christmas moment. 

“Expecto patronum,” you said with a wave of your wand. 

Nothing happened. You frowned and let your arm fall to your side. 

“So, not that one. Pick another,” George instructed. 

Fred gave you an encouraging smile. You thought over the memories that really stood out. There was a moment in second year when you had earned twenty house points in one day. You had felt so proud of yourself. You had been on a roll of answering questions correctly and Professor Snape was thoroughly impressed with your potion. To end it all, your favorite meal appeared in front of you at dinner that night. That day was so good. 

You attempted the spell again. This time, a fine blue mist fizzled out of your wand. It wasn’t enough to be considered a noncorporeal but it was progress. Harry walked over to where you three were standing. 

“You can either try focusing on that memory harder or picking a stronger one. It doesn’t necessarily need to be happy happy, but it does have to be strong. A strong, good memory. That’ll do the trick,” he said. “George, Fred, I saw yours earlier, well done. Very well done.”

“Thanks, Harry,” they said together. 

George followed Harry as he went to talk to Lee and Katie. That left Fred with you. He moved closer to you, leaning against the wall sideways. You sighed and bit the inside of your cheek. You needed something stronger; there was no way you could focus on that entire second year day any more. 

“What’re you thinking?” Fred asked.

You leaned backwards against the wall to rest momentarily.

“Just… something stronger? What qualifies? Why is this so draining?” 

He chuckled and reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. The gentle gesture sent a shiver down your spine. You looked at him, only to see him looking at you with a rare softness. You could feel your heart begin to beat quicker. 

“You’ll think of it. If Georgie and I can do it, you surely can,” he assured you. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, bringing your gaze to your wand as you fidgeted with it. 

“You can,” he said, putting his hand on your shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “I believe it. Now you have to.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. There’s a moment in your mind from earlier this year. It was a mix of happiness and hopefulness, but you assumed it was what Harry meant by strong. 

Gryffindor had just won a quidditch match, absolutely blowing Slytherin out of the water. The game had been so intense, as Slytherin played dirty as they always did. With Gryffindor’s pure skill and team chemistry, they were unstoppable. You had nearly screamed yourself hoarse with every goal and foul. When the team landed after Harry caught the snitch, you were among the first to storm the pitch. You had run toward the twins, but more specifically Fred. George had turned to celebrate with Angelina and Fred had his gaze on you, opening his arms wide to pull you into a hug as soon as you reached him. He had spun you around and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

After that, he had put you down and you celebrated with the rest of your friends. But that moment when he held you and kissed your forehead. That was the moment. It was drenched in the hope that maybe, just maybe, Fred felt the same way about you that you did about him. Maybe there was something more than friendly between you. 

You had never asked him about it. You never discussed if the kiss meant anything. Despite being in Gryffindor, you didn’t have the courage to ask. You were far too worried that asking about it would mean finding out that he didn’t feel that way, that it would mean creating awkwardness between you and that was something you weren’t going to risk. Your friendship meant too much. 

You took a breath to steady yourself. You raise your wand.

“Expecto patronum!” 

You let the hope and your feelings for Fred fill your chest as you cast the charm. More than a fine blue mist came out of the tip of your wand. It started like a waterfall, blue speckles falling to the ground. A small mound of blue formed into a shape and the image of a squirrel became vivid. It jumped to life, running around the feet of your classmates. A disbelieving smile formed on your lips. A weak laugh left you.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt arms wrap around your waist and spin you around. Your patronus was short lived as this movement takes all of your attention. 

“I knew you could do it!” Fred cheered into your ear.

You relaxed into his arms that are still around you. He stopped spinning and allowed you to re-steady yourself before turning you to look at him with his arms still around your waist.

“What did I tell you,” he said, smiling as wide as you were. “What were you thinking about?”

You felt your face burn at his question. You didn’t want to tell him, but you didn’t know which other memory you could say without him somehow knowing that you were lying. What if he didn’t feel the same about you? 

“Which memory did you choose, love?” he asked, pulling you a tiny bit closer to him. 

You could smell the spice of his cologne, count the freckles on his face and see the flecks of amber in his warm brown eyes. Your thoughts were derailed as you focused on the feeling of hands on your waist. 

“The last quidditch win,” you said softly, staring into his eyes. 

“Oh?” His voice had no edge to it, no teasing lilt.

“More specifically,” you started, hearing your voice shake slightly as you were about to tell him how much that simple moment meant to you, “when we celebrated after on the pitch.”

“You mean,” he said slowly, his voice low and caring, “when I spun you… like this?” His voice lifted energetically as he picked you up and spun you around again.

Your laughter filled the Room of Requirement. You had forgotten about everyone else in the room and didn’t care that you were probably drawing attention to yourself. When he put you down, Fred pressed a kiss to your forehead again, like he had after that quidditch match. 

“Was that your memory?” he asked teasingly as he leaned in toward your ear. 

“Ye-yeah.” 

You raised your eyes to his. His wide grin told you that he was enjoying this, but there was a look of adoration on his face. That rare softness was still there in his eyes from before you cast your patronus successfully. 

“Would you want to make these memories more often?” he asked. 

“What?”

“Fred! Just ask her,” George’s voice came from nearby. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the twin still holding you.

“We could, erm, make the hugs and kisses happen more often. If you want.” 

“Are you asking…” Your voice trails off, too nervous to finish the thought.

“If you’ll be my girlfriend? Yes, yes I am. So, will you?”

You nodded. Your heart had taken residence in your throat so you were fully incapable of speaking, but your grin mirrored Fred’s. At least it did until he pressed a quick kiss to your lips. Then you’re certain yours was bigger than his. 

“About damn time,” George said, clapping both of you on your shoulders. “He’s been gone for you for far too long without doing anything.”

“Finally grew a pair,” Lee added from your other side. 

“Oh sod off,” Fred retorted with no bite to his words. 

He couldn’t stop smiling down at you in his arms and finally his. 

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

James Potter not being able to hide his bewilderment when he sees that baby Harry has inherited his mother’s green eyes… James Potter skipping around the house, his and Sirius’s voices draining each other as they stand together looking down at the new member of the Potter family sleeping tightly, their eyes shining and mouths running….

James Potter, who never lived long enough to learn that Harry also inherited his mother’s sarcasm, her humour…

Harry James Potter, who inherited Lily’s gaze, that look in his eyes… like he was older than his age… Harry Potter, who inherited Lily’s desperate need to prove herself, Lily’s posture, the way Lily wrote her g’s… Harry, who inherited not only traits from his mother, but also traits from his father.

Harry with his father’s messy hair, Harry who bounces his leg when he’s stressed and ruffles his hair when he’s nervous, unlike his father who ruffled it to impress girls. Harry with a glimpse of his father’s mischievousness in his Lily eyes. Harry who talks in his sleep like his father, Harry with dimples like his father, Harry with poor eyesight like his father.

It’s all a mess of Lily (can’t function properly under stress), James (showers in cold water)… and Harry himself (short temper). Because if it’s something so many people seem to forget about him, which always pisses him off, is that Harry is his own person too.

He loves Treacle Tart, he has his own awkward little laugh, he can’t control his face, he bites his nails when studying, he loves strong smells, and that’s all him. Just… him.

And what Sirius never got to tell him, is that: if people would try to look past the way his parents are still with him in his eyes, behind his smile and in his heart… they would see a wonderful young boy. So much more than what his parents ever made him. Harry raised himself. Harry grew up to be his own.

But Sirius never got to tell him that, just like he never got to tell him that he had Remus’s awkward flush, Sirius’s shit-eating grin, Dorcas’s frustrated resting face, Regulus’s unbothered expression when he was locked into his own little shell… traits that were Mary’s, Marlene’s, James’s, Lily’s, and most importantly Harry’s own.

Sirius never even learnt if these were things Harry would have liked to hear.

[beerose12]

*scurries up to you and drops the harry potter meme redraws at your feet*

*scurries back into the art void until who knows when*

[girlkisser13]

taste- part 2

"every time you close your eyes and feel his lips, you're feelin' mine" "and every time you breathe his air, just know i was already there" "you can have him if you like, i’ve been there, done that once or twice" "and singin' bout it don't mean i care, yeah, i know i've been known to share"

a/n: the long awaited part 2. tysm for all the love on part 1 !! if you haven't read part 1 yet, you can read it here.

pairings: theodore nott x slytherin fem!reader

warnings/tags: mentions of cheating. pansmione mention.

summary: theo makes his choice.

theo's gaze lingered on you as you disappeared out of honeydukes, your parting words still echoing in the silence that followed your exit. pansy had been stunned, her smirk wiped clean off her face. now, she stood frozen next to him, her dark eyes darting back and forth between the door and him.

it didn’t take long before her shock morphed into anger. she turned to him, her voice low, almost dangerously soft. "is it true?"

theo shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the shopkeeper who was pretending to be busy counting coins but was clearly eavesdropping. "pansy," he began, unsure how to even start.

"don’t. just tell me the truth." her eyes bore into his. "how long?"

theo opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat. he wanted to explain, to justify, to somehow make it all seem like less than it was, but nothing he could say would change the facts. "since the summer," he admitted finally, his voice barely audible.

pansy’s breath hitched, her eyes widening in disbelief. "the summer," she repeated, the words foreign on her tongue. she took a step toward him, nostrils flaring as she inhaled deeply. her eyes sharpened, realization dawning as she caught the faint, sweet scent that lingered on his clothing.

"god, you even smell like her," she hissed, taking another step closer. "it’s like she’s still here. like i’m breathing the same air as her."

theo clenched his jaw, guilt washing over him. he had never intended to hurt pansy, not like this. his feelings for you had crept up on him, unexpected but undeniable. but pansy had been a part of his life for so long— he had thought he could manage both, keep up appearances with her and still have you. now, he realized how naive that had been.

"how long have you been lying to me?" pansy asked, her voice rising as her emotions took hold. "how long have you been sneaking around behind my back?"

"i wasn’t—" he began, but she cut him off with a bitter laugh.

"since the summer," she spat, shaking her head in disbelief, her face a mix of anger and hurt. "all those times you disappeared, all those excuses— you were with her, weren’t you?"

he couldn’t bring himself to deny it. he nodded, shame settling deep in his chest. "i didn’t mean for it to happen like this, pansy. i never wanted to hurt you."

"funny how that works," she said coldly, taking a step back. "because you did."

without another word, pansy stormed out of the shop, leaving theo standing there, lost in the wreckage of the moment.

it wasn’t long before pansy found you.

she caught you as you were leaving the three broomsticks, the warmth of the tavern replaced by the chill of the autumn air. you barely had time to register the fury on her face before she was in front of you, blocking your path.

"so it’s true," she said, her voice shaking with a mix of anger and disbelief. "you’ve been messing around with theo behind my back."

you stared at her, feeling a deep weariness settle over you. you didn’t want to fight, didn’t want to keep rehashing the same painful truth. "you don’t have to worry about me anymore, pansy," you said quietly. "there’s nothing between us now."

pansy narrowed her eyes. "what are you saying?"

"i’m saying you can have him," you replied, the weight of your own words pressing on your chest. "i don’t care anymore."

for a moment, she just stood there, her expression faltering. and then, something inside her seemed to snap. she let out a breathless, bitter laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. "you don’t care?" she echoed. "you ruined everything, and now you’re just going to walk away?"

you held her gaze, your own emotions swirling just beneath the surface, but you kept your voice steady. "it’s over, pansy. there’s nothing left to fight about."

behind her anger, you could see the confusion and hurt. pansy had always been so sure of her place by his side. to have that shaken so thoroughly, it was clear she didn’t know how to process it.

"this is too much," she muttered, her voice breaking. she glanced back toward the village, her shoulders tense, before turning her eyes to you again. "he’s not worth it," she said, her voice cold, but there was a flicker of something softer underneath. "i’m done with him."

and with that, she walked away, leaving you standing in the street, the wind biting at your skin.

you barely had time to process her departure before you heard the sound of footsteps behind you. you turned just in time to see theo running after you, his face drawn with frustration and worry.

"wait—" he called, but you didn’t stop. you couldn’t. you couldn’t let him pull you back into this mess again.

"theo, don’t," you said, your voice thick with emotion as you quickened your pace, trying to put distance between you and him. "just go."

"i’m not going after her!" he shouted, catching up to you, his hand grabbing your arm to stop you. "please, just listen to me."

you stopped abruptly, pulling your arm from his grasp as you spun to face him. "i won’t be anyone’s secret, theo," you said, your voice trembling with the effort to hold back your tears. "if you want to be with pansy so badly, then go. be with her."

he flinched at your words, hurt flashing in his eyes, but you turned away before you could see any more. you couldn’t handle it. not now. not after everything.

"wait—" theo tried again, but you shook your head, walking faster, not stopping until the distance between you and him was more than just physical.

when you were finally alone, the tears came. you let them fall, letting the weight of everything settle on your shoulders. and in that quiet, in the solitude of the moment, you made a promise to yourself.

you would never let anyone treat you like that again.

the days after the confrontation were strange. theo kept his distance, and for that, you were grateful. but it didn’t stop him from watching you, didn’t stop the furtive glances he sent your way when he thought you weren’t looking.

it wasn’t until a few days later, during charms class, that theo made his next move.

a folded note landed on your desk, sliding across the surface to rest just beneath your hand. you glanced down at it, your heart sinking as you saw theo’s familiar handwriting scrawled across the parchment.

meet me at the astronomy tower? 9 p.m.

you rolled your eyes, crumpling the note in your hand and shoving it into your bag. as if things could be that simple.

after class, theo approached you again, his face full of the same pleading expression you had seen too many times before.

"please," he said softly, stepping in front of you. "just five minutes. that’s all i’m asking."

you stared at him for a long moment, considering his words, weighing the possibilities. against your better judgment, you found yourself nodding. "fine. five minutes."

he looked relieved, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "thank you."

you said nothing as you walked away, your stomach twisting with anxiety for the conversation that was sure to come.

at nine o’clock, you made your way up to the astronomy tower, your heart beating a little faster with every step. the night was cool, the stars scattered across the sky like distant pinpricks of light. when you reached the top, theo was already there, leaning against the stone railing, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

he straightened as soon as he saw you, his expression soft, almost vulnerable.

"you came," he said, his voice filled with quiet relief.

"i said i would," you replied shortly, crossing your arms. "you’ve got five minutes."

theo sighed, running a hand through his hair, his eyes darting to the sky before they finally met yours again. "i’ve been a fool,” he started, his voice quiet, almost pained. "i was a fool to think i could be with pansy in public and have you in secret. i want to be with you."

you blinked, taken aback by his sudden admission. "where is this coming from?" you asked cautiously. "why do you suddenly feel this way?"

"it’s not sudden," theo replied, shaking his head. "i've always felt this way. i was just too prideful. too scared to admit it, to myself or to you." he stepped closer, his voice trembling slightly as he continued. "but fuck my pride. fuck everything. i am in love with you."

your breath caught in your throat, the rawness in his words slicing through the defenses you had carefully built up over the last few weeks.

"i’ve tried not to be," theo admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "i’ve tried to do the right thing, to do right by pansy, and by you. but i can't help it. my heart won’t stop wanting you.”

you stood frozen, barely able to process his words as he took another step closer, the intensity in his eyes almost overwhelming. "i’ve been in love with you since the day you tripped and fell on your face right in front of me."

you let out a breathy laugh at the memory, your heart tugging at the unexpected sweetness of it.

theo smiled, his expression softening as he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing against yours. "my love is yours, if you’re willing to take it."

you hesitated, your mind spinning as you tried to sort through the mess of emotions swirling inside you. "i... i am not sure if i am ready yet," you admitted softly, pulling your hand back slightly.

theo nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes. "that’s alright," he said gently. "i can wait. i will wait as long as you need."

there was a quiet, fragile moment between the two of you, the weight of everything that had passed finally beginning to lift. slowly, you felt some of your defenses crumble, your heart opening to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

over the following weeks, you and theo took things slow. there was no more secrecy, no more hiding in shadows or sneaking around. theo kept his promise, giving you the time and space you needed to feel ready. and when the two of you were finally ready to make things public, it was on your terms, with no lingering doubts.

pansy, to your surprise, had been able to reconcile with theo. while their romantic relationship had ended, they were able to find a new sense of friendship. as it turned out, pansy had begun seeing someone new as well— hermione granger, of all people. though unexpected, their relationship seemed to be exactly what pansy needed, and you couldn’t help but be happy for her.

in time, you and theo began to date publicly, and while the journey hadn’t been easy, you knew that what the two of you had was real. the love theo had promised you that night under the stars was yours, and you were finally ready to accept it.

[inkyarcturus]

Finally finished him >:D planning on posting my commission sheet soon if anyone’s interested btw!! I just need to figure out when I’ll have time to leave it open + set up a cash app

[crescentofthegods]

BEFUDDLING CONFUSION!

pairing: fred weasley x muggleborn!fem!reader

request: returning to your dorm, you are thoroughly surprised to see a rather pretty ginger girl sitting at your vanity…

word count: 2,378

warnings: FLUFF, gender swapped!fred, reader is muggleborn just bc, reader is into girls, literally just pure fluff, swear words here and there, unfortunately not proofread.....

author’s note: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG ANON i dont actually write for fred or george, but this request is really funny so i answered it😭 hope you like it!! (I FEEL LIKE THIS IS REALLY BAD HELP)

hp masterlist | navigation

DAMNED ANCIENT RUNES… The one subject you absolutely adored, but it aggravated you to an extreme at the same time. How could something be so interesting, yet so carefully complicated at the same time? Mumbling to yourself, wading between a couple of first years, you forcefully climb the many stairs of Gryffindor Tower, eager for your bed to embrace your exhausted soul. The Great Library had been your temporary home for the entirety of the weekend since you wanted to perfect your memorisation of different runic numbers—a simple list that any third year beginning this subject would know, but you just wanted to be completely sure. Being in your seventh year made you paranoid about… well; everything. You needed these NEWTs. The last thing you wanted was to fail, especially with everything that was going on…

            “Ugh…” you groaned, entering your dorm with a sigh—carelessly, you tossed your textbooks onto the wooden floorboards that carried your feet, eager to get away from them for a good few hours. Your boyfriend, Freddie, promised to meet you here since your roommate, Angelina, was having a sleepover with someone else; the thought of Fred made you smile like some lovesick idiot.

            You were a lovesick idiot. Fred… he treated you so well. A proper gentleman who towered over you, following you like a lost puppy as George tagged along behind him, the poor bloke. He was always touching you in some sort of way, having a need to hold you, whether it was just having your hand in his or sitting in his lap when you were with your friends—

            He was so sweet. Not to mention funny.

            Of course he was funny.

            “You’re back!” A girlish voice brought you back to reality as you shrugged off your robes, yearning for your pajamas instead—whilst the voice was not even remotely similar to the Chaser you liked to call your friend, you decided that it couldn’t belong to anyone else, right?

            “Yeah,” you lamented, still not looking towards Angelina, stretching your arms as you yawned. “I wasn’t built for fucking academics,” your grumble caused your roommate to giggle, your eyebrows furrowing as you whipped around, properly peering into your dorm. Shutting the door behind you by pressing your back against the oak, you slowly made your way towards your vanity, where the voice was coming from.

            Angelina didn’t… giggle. At least, not with you. With George? Definitely.

            Not with you.

            Naturally, you sensed danger. You’ve participated in a fair share of fights over the years, especially with the Slytherins and their stupid name calling—you tried to not let their taunting get to you, but it truly is hard as a Muggleborn. Anyhow, you weren’t going to take your chances; honestly, it would not surprise you at all if a Slytherin had somehow got into Gryffindor House just to play a silly prank on you—

            “Oh, love, why are your fists clenched?” the teasing voice spoke again, and you finally met the eyes that belonged to it; eyes widening in astoundment, you realised you did not recognise this girl at all. Yet, she wore the infamous red-and-gold striped tie around the collar of her shirt, which was slightly oversized for her form. What was even weirder was how she wore trousers instead of a skirt—you didn’t think girls would be allowed to wear regular trousers at Hogwarts. Her lovely, fiery locks were styled like a sort of messy pixie cut, tucked behind her ears, revealing her rather pretty countenance—light brown eyes paired with a roman nose and soft, thin lips… She looked so familiar, yet so unidentifiable.

            “What—Who are you calling ‘love’?” you questioned, clearly caught off guard by the whole situation; you weren’t sure what to say or even do. This wasn’t Ginny, your boyfriend’s little sister, and, either way, gingers stand out quite a lot. Who was this girl?

            Sitting at your vanity, she simply laughed in response, the domestic giggles birthing rather large butterflies in your stomach—what the fuck? You were attracted to girls, of course, but you were dating Fred—you were in love with Fred Weasley. And now, this random girl, whatever she was, was… trying to flirt with you? After breaking and entering your dorm?

            “Stop laughing! Who—Who in Godric’s name are you?” you asked, your fingers curling around your wand that had been hidden in your sock this entire time. The girl (as lovely as she sounded) continued to cackle, clutching her chest as if she was struggling to breathe—what was so funny? “This is serious, y’know? I’ll get Professor McGonagall right now—” That seemed to shut her up immediately, the darling ginger shooting up from her seat as her expression crumpled into one of panic.

            “Oh, God, please don’t, sweetheart—I can’t do another week of detention where I dust her bloody shelves,” she explained, but you couldn’t focus on her words—not when she was towering over you with her tall stature; you hadn’t notice how… vertically big she was when she had been sitting. Almost six feet and two inches, you gathered, your lips parting in slight bewilderment since you were forced to lift your gaze, not even bothered that her large, but dainty hands were gently grasping your biceps, her thumbs rubbing circles against your clothed flesh as you just stood there, trying not to seem so hot and bothered.

            She really was pretty, the girl. You didn’t know what it was… Perhaps it was the accustomed way she had laughed and smiled at you. Or the way her expression had fallen so comically—something that you recognised. And, the way she called you sweetheart; only one person called you that. Your boyfriend. Evidently, you didn’t like when others used pet names for you… only your boyfriend could do that.

            Your boyfriend. Fred…

            “Oh my God!” you exclaimed, shoving the ‘girl’ away, your expression painted with befuddling confusion as you gasped, your wand clattering towards the floor. “FREDRICK GIDEON WEASLEY—”

            “Okay, calm down—”

            “No! What if one of the teachers caught you sneaking up here?! Do you have a death wish?—WHY ARE YOU A GIRL—?!”

            “Darling—” Fred puffed, one of her his hands slapping over your mouth so he could speak, your exclamations muffled by the warmth of his palm. “Let me explain��� It’s not that bad!”

            It is that bad! Was what you wanted to say, but your voice was stifled yet again, producing a picturesque scowl upon your face. He smiled—he adored your fiery nature. You were both alike, in that sense. He adored the way that you still fussed over his safety whilst also being furious with him. It was quite amusing, actually.

            “It isn’t,” he replied to your mumble, his feminine voice soft—he never got loud with you. He was the calm boyfriend whenever you both ‘argued’ (you actually don’t have fights, you yell and he listens like the good boyfriend he is). They were usually over something silly, the arguments. Like when he spends too much on flowers even though you’d be perfectly okay with the daisies that grew outside the Quidditch Grounds. He liked being extra, your blasted boyfriend.

            And, unfortunately, that was a quality of his that you adored—how perfect he was when it came to your relationship.

            “Let me explain, please?” he jokingly pouted—whilst you were a little mad at the whole situation, you weren’t exactly complaining. Fred looked beyond beautiful as a girl, so much so that his pout only made your heart melt inside.

            “…Fine. What did you both do?” He furrowed his eyebrows at that.

            “Both?”

            “You and George, silly,” you retorted, crossing your arms—your boyfriend’s hands fell to your waist, his thumbs still tracing circles across the hem of your untucked shirt (you were still baffled that he could talk whilst doing the very same ministrations that got you flustered every damned day).

            “Well… why are you assuming that we did something? It could’ve just been a freak accident,” he wiggled his thick eyebrows whilst that grin you fell in love with plastered his lips, gazing at you with that roguish look in his milk chocolate eyes.

            “It’s never a bloody accident with you two,” you sighed, your usual, soft smile finally stroking your lips—you could never be wholly angry with him. “Go on, tell me.”

“YOU KNOW… THIS IS DEFINITELY the most complicated potion we’ve brewed,” George mumbled in concentration, swirling the bubbling, blue liquid that filled the twins’ cauldron with a regular stirring stick, Fred’s impatient hum heard in response.

            “Just wish it didn’t take forever to bloody make it,” he grumbled, but his sour frown cosmically warped into a wide grin when he saw that the glop had stopped bubbling—usually, it was a sign that the potion was complete… George, however, wasn’t entirely sure.

            “That doesn’t seem right,” it was George’s turn to frown, the ginger turning his head to find the instruction book he was following (stolen from the Restricted Section of the library, of course). Fred completely ignored his twin brother’s confused mumbles, simply inspecting how the solution had darkened, creating a shade of turquoise. Shrugging like it was nothing to worry about, the older brother retrieved a vial from his potion-making kit as George spoke again.

            “Fuck’s sake,” George groaned, scratching his head as he chucked the rather thick tome onto his desk, turning around to glance at the cauldron. “It’s supposed to be purple—FRED!”

            Completely unbeknownst to George, Fred had downed a single vial of the rich secretion, watching with his mouth slack open as his brother burped, grimacing whilst glancing at the younger twin.

            “Tastes like shit,” but George didn’t care about the taste.

            “You’re actually such a moronic piece of—I didn’t make the potion right!” exclaimed George, examining Fred’s form since he was worried that the latter would transform into something… odd. The other’s expression crumbled, feeling completely fine as he stared at his body—nothing was wrong. Not yet, anyway…

            “I feel fine, Georgie—and, anyway, this is a good thing! You know we have to test every single one of our creations, even if we already know they’re not going to work.” The younger couldn’t really argue with that, running a hand through his short, ginger locks, his light brown eyes (that matched Fred’s to the T, of course) locked on Fred.

            “We’re only good at those stupid love potions, you know that,” George breathlessly chuckled, deciding to turn his head away for only a moment, just to check the book to see what he’d missed. They were both stupendous when it came to concoctions in general, but they wanted to give it a good go before asking Fred’s girlfriend, you, since you’d most likely say no, regardless.

            “Well, yeah, but—eurgh,” Fred pulled a face of disgust, clutching his stomach as he doubled down, his eyebrows furrowing as his vision grew clouded; something was wrong. But George, the clueless don, was too busy flicking through the pages of his embezzled book. “George—”

            “This is so odd. I don’t really get what I did wrong…” George respired to himself, unaware of his brother’s… changing self. “Oh, for the love of Merlin—I didn’t add enough fluxweed. Wait, so, what the fuck did I make—?”

            “GEORGE.”

            “WHAT?” Just the same, as soon as George fluctuated to face his annoying twin brother, his mouth clamped shut, his eyes widening in utter amazement at the sight before him.

            It was like Fred had become their only sister, Ginny… only, his hair was shorter and Ginny’s nose was definitely more fleshed out and… buttony? Fred was basically Fred, but the girl version. And George had never been more freaked out.

            “Oh my fuck—”

            “Don’t you dare freak out on me—I should be the one freaking out!” interjected Fred, his guise encapsulated by the same distress that illustrated George.

            “Godric… I think I brewed some sort of Polyjuice Potion,” he mumbled in return, staggering back so he could sit on his desk, clearly still a little befuddled. Confused.

            “Oh, you think?”

            You burst out laughing, collapsing against Fred as he released an annoyed ebb of air, holding you all the same—your forehead touched his chest, which was now pillowed with soft, clothed breasts, as you tried to stifle the many giggles erupting your lungs, but you couldn’t help yourself. The narration was a little funny. Very funny. Extremely funny—

            “Now you find it amusing?” Fred raised an eyebrow as you exhaled airily, your pretty smile warming your boyfriend’s heart; you were so dear to him. Nibbling your bottom lip, you tugged his feminine form towards your bed, speaking as you did so.

            “You’re actually unbelievable—no wonder why George makes all the potions.”

            “He’s the one who got it wrong!” he sounded so exasperated, leading you to cackle even more as you gently pushed him to sit, straddling his lap. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, humming to yourself; feeling quite exhausted yourself, you couldn’t help but giggle quietly, imagining the whole story in your head.

            “How long will this… version of you last, d’you reckon?” you asked, feeling Fred’s long arms wound around your waist, keeping you close—always keeping you close. “As furious as I am since you could’ve died—” His ‘pffft’ made you roll your eyes, but you didn’t respond to it. “It is quite… pleasing to look at.” Fred raised both of his eyebrows.

            “What’s pleasing?”

            “I dunno… your face.”

            “And?”

            “Um… your voice?”

            “And?”

            “Your… body, I guess,” your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you cleared your throat, hearing his raspy chuckle as his fingers caressed your hips. You hadn’t realised until now, but he’d been wearing your rings, your boyfriend. Probably trying some of your lip glosses on whilst you had been gone.

            “Wanna roleplay while it lasts?” you could practically hear his wink as you gagged, shoving his chest as you picked your head up.

            “Ew! No,” you firmly stated, meeting his gaze with a hint of sterness tingling your countenance. He merely pouted again in return; it was his turn to hide in your neck, causing you to giggle again, his glossed lips tickling your pulse point as you tried not to suspire.

            “…Can I do your makeup?”

            “No,” he answered. Though, after a beat of silence, he mumbled. “Fine.”

[fangisms]

rubbish and the weather

A/N: my first hp universe fic 🥺 i hope somebody enjoys this because i LOVE neville and i LOVE friends to lovers tropes

Pairings: Neville Longbottom x Fem!Reader

Summary: Neville is hiding two things from you: the chest under his bed and his affections for you. 1.5k words

Warnings: fluff, face kisses, friendly teasing/bullying, SICKENING pining, neville being borderline creepy but in a sweet way, cursing, friends to… lovers?

"'Some have begun to question whether or not the Sorting Hat even exists'. Oh, be serious, there's no way anyone would believe this rubbish"—you toss the flimsy tabloid to the foot of the bed, nearly pelting Neville with the busily patterned cover—"Now, if they'd asked, does the Sorting Hat actually sort... well, then I'd have to think about it."

"If you think it's rubbish, then why are you subscribed?"

He doesn't even have to glance up from his almanac to know you're glaring holes through his skull. And you don't have to see the other side of his skull to know that he's borderline laughing at you.

"Oh, and I'm sure what you're reading is much more enlightening. What is this?"—You snatch the thin booklet from his lap, illuminating the soft yellow cover under your suddenly glowing wand—"Last year's Farmers' Almanac?"

"Give me that—I'm trying to follow weather patterns to understand what crops might attract juvenile basilisks to common gardens in order to decrease slug attacks on spring harvests. Are you even listening?" he whines, smacking your calf with the booklet as you reach for a worn quill and a shred of parchment.

"Mhm! Baby basilisks, slug attacks, harvests, got it!" you coo, scribbling across the paper flattened against the headboard of his bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing, plant boy! Go back to reading."

"Actually, I prefer plantsman, thank you very much."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, plant boy."

He turns his back to you again, sitting criss-cross on the edge of the bed, hunched over as he scans the pages for keywords and uncommon patterns.

You shift across the bed, draping one arm over Neville's shoulder and dropping the slip of paper into his lap. Your head rests on his other shoulder while he picks at the edges of the piece and ignores the fire in his face.

"For me?" he says, holding it in his palms like it could rip at any second. Like he'll blink and it'll turn to shreds in his fingers.

"It's your little basilisk"—you run your fingertip along the bottom corner where a tiny, overly worried snake sits looking up at a gigantic slug with sharp teeth that towers over him and his tomato plant—"I don't know how he's going to defend his crops this spring."

You blow a puff of air against the back of his neck, chuckling when he startles and slips the comic into the breast pocket of his pajamas.

"So you were listening after all," he teases, turning over his shoulder to find you splayed out across the bed, face buried in his pillows, arms outstretched like you're reaching for something. He wants to reach back. He wants this kind of view for the rest of his life, if only from afar.

You mumble something into the fluff and shriek when he grabs for your ankle.

"Can't hear all your whining through the bedding."

When you look at him, he thinks he could die. Your eyes sparkle in the dim and awfully warm lightning. If he's lucky, you'll brush off all of his feverish blushing as some sort of medical condition. But he's never been very lucky which is why he reaches for the back of his neck when you grin and roll over.

"I wasn't whining, I was saying—"

Light floods the room as the door flaps open to a few familiar faces that look like they've seen a ghost. You spring out of Neville's bed and gather your supplies. He feels a buzzing in his palms that begs him to beg you to stay. But it's against the rules. Even more so than your presence alone in the boys' dorms.

"I guess that's my cue to leave," you chirp, saluting to the quartet of boys shuffling through the doorway with wide eyes and shy smiles.

"Goodnight, Neville."

You kiss his cheek, patting his shoulder and flitting back through the door with one last wave. Neville sighs and tosses his almanac aside, swinging his legs off the side of the bed before he hears a chorus of high-pitched teasing:

"Goodnight, Neville! I love you, Neville!" Not to mention the kissing sounds and squeaky sighs from the group of Gryffindor imbeciles.

He would never admit it out loud, but even imagining you professing your love for him gives him butterflies. His heart races at the thought of your voice wrapped around the sweet words, your lips forming the dewy syllables just right. But he rolls his eyes and groans, settling across his mattress and forgetting the drawing in his pocket.

...

You'd been wandering around the boys' dormitories in your house sweater, humming the song that played in the pub down the road. Usually you invade Neville's space to study or catch up on tabloids, but tonight you're restless. His quill is flicking away at a sheet of classwork he forgot about until the last minute.

As you press your fingertips to each quilt stitch and dresser decoration, you notice a piece of metal gleaming at you from underneath his bed. A sharp corner protrudes from the edge; it belongs to a small brown leather chest buckled in brass and blooming with rust.

"What's this?" you coo, holding the chest across both of your palms, nudging his calf with your foot and grinning mischievously down at him. And he looks genuinely scared. Pale as a ghost and scrambling after you as you take off across the room with elated giggles and chirps.

"No—no! Give that back, it's personal!" he whines, panting as you bound over one of the beds and curl your arms around the box.

"What's yours is mine, Longbottom! Come on, whatever it is can't be that bad—"

He grabs the back of your sweater like the scruff of a puppy, dragging you backwards and knocking you off kilter. He nearly catches the chest with his hands, but you duck out of reach and jump onto his bed before he can get to you again.

"Tell me, what on Earth could Neville Longbottom be hiding—"

His heart stops when you flick open the latch and toss the lid wide. Then your smile falls.

You finger over the contents of the chest, scraps of parchment and ink fill it to its brim. They nearly spill over the edges when you plop down onto his mattress with the chest in your lap.

Your mouth opens and closes with revelation and awe. Each page is one of your spontaneously dorky animations. Spiky creatures and demon garden spawn and caricatures of Professor Snape litter the pile. They're all drawings you remember, each connects to a moment between the two of you.

Neville takes a deep breath and doesn't dare step closer, "It's not what it looks like—"

"You kept them?" you whisper, looking up at him in shock, "All of them?"

You're still flipping through the stack when he shrugs with a worrisome smile.

"...Yes."

You pause. You pause and take a sharp breath in because he's never sounded so sure in a word. You do a double take at one of the sketches. He sits on the edge of the bed, wringing his hands and glancing over at you anxiously.

"Neville"—and here it comes, he thinks, creepy, perverted, obsessive, and those sorts of things. And you wouldn't be wrong. But then he thinks he might be wrong. Because you set the box aside and spring toward him like a goddamn panther, landing him flat on the floor with a groan.

"That's adorable!

Your wet lips find his cheek and the rest of his face, hands wound into the collar of his sleep shirt as you leer down at him with a grin.

"I didn't think anyone paid attention to those stupid things."

"Well. I do," he huffs.

"I can see that, you sicko!" you shriek, "You better thank your lucky stars I'm so nice. Any other girl would've sent you right to Snape for being so perverted and creepy."

Called it.

"That's why I did it to you, not some other girl."

He doesn't know what to do with his hands, and you go shy thinking you might've crossed a line. Maybe you got too excited, flew too close to the sun, lips too close to his own. But the closeness had felt nice, and you want to make him blush like that forever.

"So you're saying it's not because I'm the prettiest girl at Hogwarts."

And you bat your lashes, pouting and leaving him weak in the knees. With your palms on his chest and you leaning closer, he's tempted to admit he's taken with you. To admit he's loved you since first year. To admit you are the prettiest girl at Hogwarts and in London and the rest of Europe. Forget the world, you're his.

"I never said that," Neville mumbles. It’s the closest he'll ever get to a real confession. At least this year.

masterlist

[moonschocolate]

Headcanons about my current hyperfixation: THEOO!!☆

I keep stalking the 'theodore nott headcanons' tag so I might as well write my own headcanons about him

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

this man has social anxiety. prove me wrong.

when he was younger he found comfort in reading fiction books, like pjo

he 100% had an obsession with greek mythology, or mythology in general, and it's still kinda there but not like before

then growing up he got into classics

like one day he was like 'what if I read a Dostoevskij book' and that's where it all started

he prefers reading this kind of books because they teach you more

tallest boy you've ever seen, somewhat taller (only by few centimeteres) than Fred and George

he plays the cello, like kind of, he knows how to play a piece only studying it, i believe this man was never able to play a piece at first sight

surprisingly (to him) he really has a lot of things in common with Luna, when he found out he wanted to spend more time with her

he's really silent, but GOD does he ever stop thinking?? his head is loud af

enjoys being with his friends, they're used to him not shouting in their ears (unlike some other boy *cough cough* Mattheo *cough cough ... cough*)and he enjoys their company and they do too

not the type of boy to run to Spotify or whatever music app whenever he can, but he enjoys some kind of music (mostly smooth piano jazz, dramatic classical music since it's my fav, and he thinks TV girl, Lamp, Ichiko Aoba are cool)

never replies quickly, he's always late replying cuz thinks being on his phone is a complete waste of time, but it's not like he's NEVER on it

chill with Halloween but feral over Christmas (does not show it)

legos. I've said all.

YOU CANNOT TELL ME THIS MAN DOESNT HAVE HIS ROOM FULL OF STAR WARS SETS

despite enjoying english and all that kind of subjects, he is feral, and when I say feral I mean feral over maths. He loves learing new concepts because then it all makes sense and it's just so cool (explained from a person who is also feral over maths, pls tell me you get what i mean)

hyperfixations? oh so many

again, greek mythology

you could tell this man "Hey do you know about the myth of Apolloand Daphne" his eyes would light up and he would tell you the myth, his opinion, and related myths ("there's also this other myht with Apollo where he-")

A S T R O L O G Y

still greek mythology related but

he could stay hours talking about constellations

"hey do you know the myth behind the gemini constellation? No? Can I tell you about it?! Okay so-"

paper stars.

if there's a paper stripe around he'd grab it and make a paper star out of it

looks like the typa guy who'd take a lot of pictures with a canon/sony camera

when he feels anxious he'd do this thing where (get ready for the worst explanation ever) he'd put one of his nails of the right hand in between the skin and the nail of his thumb on his left hand and make the nail go left and right, still in between the skin and the nail (I ALWAYS DO THAT I HOPE IT MAKES SENSE I TRIED TO BE AS SPECIFIC AS I COULD)

He tried to go to a party since Blaise, Draco, Enzo, Theo, Pansy (basically everyone you get it)... begged him to come along

we could sum up his experience in one word

NIGHTMARE

The music was too loud, the people were to close to him, everyone was shouting, there were alcohol and drugs (he still wonders how they got literal drugs into the castle), everyone tried to dance with him and talk to him, that time he got overwhelmed tried to leave, but they were all like 'heyyyy nooo dont leaveeeee stay hereeeeee' but his friends understood it wasn't for him and Blaise went with him to his dorm, waited until he felt better then went back to the party

has never been to a party since then

smart af

like he easily surpasses draco and mione

also theo and mione are really close friends, one time they found eachother in the library reading the same book and chatting they found out they have several things in common

has a collection of stylographs, that stays in his library neatly ordinated

best sense of style (he obv got it from Blaise but he made it better)

he loves movies, he's watched movies like Dead Poets Society, Dorian Gray, but also movies about historical facts like The Darkest Hour, The King's Speech, Hidden Figures, The Pianist (I'm a sucker for this kind of movies honestly)

!! HE HAS DIMPLES !!

He loves professor Lupin, he thinks of him as Keating is dps

secretly listens to Micheal Bublè in Christmas, he loves his Christmas songs

he only buys old books, never new ones, he thinks that already used books, from decades ago, he thinks they hold stories, and it's even better when the books have annotations, maybe he'll erase them, but it's good to hear other's opinions

has a lot of vynils

used to study for his dad, now this became a habit, that's why he's the best in class

his relationship with his mom is not strong, MORE

When his mom died he was 5 so he didn't understand

when he finally knew the truth he cried for weeks, then he would occasionally go out to look at the stars, which he always admired with his mom, and cried thinking about her, thinking that she was watching him from up there

when he was like 10 he didn't cry no more, only if he ever opened up

he shared anything with her

he NEVER let ANYONE call him Teddy, he always though that is what his mom called him, and he didn't want other people to 'interfere' with that, he feels like it's their thing

despises horror movies. gets scared to death watching them, and doesnt find the lore interesting

never walks around with only socks on, has the fear of walking on water accidentally and getting his feet wet and the feeling disgustes him

also, has the whole collection of pjo books (every book. from percy jackson and the olympians to the chalice of the gods)

loves cats so much, he has two cats, but he wishes he had more

he has male brown cat named Monet and a grey cat with some beige spots and green eyes (it's mt bsf's cat, I love her - the cat - and I thought she could be a honourable mention) named Vivienne

defo has an obsession with sharks, but is even more obsessed with jellyfish, he knows a lot of scientific names for their species, for exmample Phylloriza Punctata, or Chrisaora Quinquecirrha, or Aurelia Aurelita, he's obsessed

Fav subject isn't potions, it's astronomy instead

since i live for loser!Theo, im in love with the idea of him stuttering in front of a guy/girl he finds cute or attractive, blushing and being awkward

my man absolutely doesn't know how to talk, he speaks too fast, and when ppl tell him to slow down, then he thinks he's talking too slow

if anyone fatshames any of his friends, or is racist/homophobic towards them, or just insults them, he will try to avoid throwing punches, but lets say he'll exchange a word or two with that person

if he's itchy, he scratches so hard there could be blood (a bit exaggerated but you get it)

could've been a Ravenclaw, but if he did his father would be really mad at him, so he's happy he isn't

another headcanon that I kindly stole rn from @heirofs1ytherin is that he's into poetry. LIKE 100% ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ You probably got that I love him HES MY BABY

[mrstellmeafuckingsecret]

i have a fic need that needs to be fulfilled and it's just sirius post-azkaban in ootp locked up in number twelve and his memory is damaged and he only remembers the worst of the worst so he just . pensieve-s it and pulls his worst memories out because he doesnt want to be burdened by them . and then harry finds them and takes a dip. and it's just all very horrifying yk because its really the worst of the worst and it's all happened in number twelve . and sirius doesn't find out and the next time harry sees sirius sirius is just doing the crossword on the dining table and he just thinks to sirius' memories where he's being punished on the exact same spot where he's sitting and just bursting into tears but he cant tell sirius because sirius didnt need to be reminded of that

[neyney2010]

Remus and Luna both turning around simultaneously once in Hogwarts after someone yelled out "Loony" because Loony Lupin and Loony Lovegood have stuck with them.

(Or you can see it as Remus mishearing it for Moony)

[nicolillies]

pansy parkinson | queen of hearts ♥️

[marauder-misprint]

Hi! I have no idea how to request correctly butI really liked how you write fred and I was wondering if I can maybe request you doing qn insecure!fred x reader where they are dating and molly wants reader to come over but fred knowing they are poor doesnt want the reader to see. When he tells her and she agrees to come over and meets his familyi(the ones she hasnt met yet) she slips up on something stupid like saying a twosided comment about their house and molly takes it the bad way, disliking reader and pressuring fred into breaking up with her but reader gets defensive and they fight, the weasley siblings on readers side and in the end molly starts to tolerate you. You absolutely don't have to but thx anyways!!

Thank you for the request! Although, I think you are referring to a Fred fic I reblogged so I can’t take credit for that 😅 ANYWAYS, I hope you like this - my first Hogwarts Era (Trio Era? Golden Era? Lightning Era?) 

Peculiar

insecure!Fred x reader

3.4k words

cw: angst, fluff, y/n

One thing Fred liked about Hogwarts was his family’s financial situation didn’t matter. Everyone wore the same uniform, even if his were hand-me-downs from Percy, and his family always managed to pull through to get the supplies they needed, which meant his broom wasn’t the newest but it did the job. He knew he couldn’t pretend his family had galleons upon galleons in their vault like other families. He knew he couldn’t spoil his new girlfriend in all the ways he wanted to, and by goodness, did he wish he could spoil you.

Still, things were going good. You didn’t discuss your family’s financial situation much, just enough for him to know you were from a more well-off family. You were only teenagers after all. You enjoyed spending time with each other and all of the other things that came with teenage romances, including the moments where you both that maybe it could be more than just a teenage romance. 

Things were good. Until a letter from Molly arrived. 

Errol near crashed into the Gryffindor table at breakfast in his typical fashion.

“INCOMING!” Lee hollered as the aging bird landed among the plate and globals, sending food and drink everywhere. 

“Oh, Errol,” George groaned as he untied the letter at his foot. “Oi, Freddie, it’s for you.”

Fred took the letter and quickly read it, a frown appearing on his face the further down he got in the letter. George picked it up right away, despite barely being able to see it in his peripheral vision as he tended to the owl. 

“What’s it?” he asked. 

“Mum wants me to invite Y/N to the Burrow over the summer.” His frown was paired with bunched brows and a pale face. 

Katie clapped Fred on his back enthusiastically. 

“That’s good, yeah? She’ll get to experience that Weasley hospitality Molly’s known for!”

Fred just shook his head, rereading the letter. It was bad enough that he couldn’t spoil you at school, but what would you think if you saw his home, how they lived. It wasn’t as bad as some people teased, but it certainly was no Malfoy Manor or Diggory Estate. 

“Mate, am I getting the invite this year?” Lee asked George, throwing an arm around his shoulder and shaking him. 

“Can’t. Mum’s already planning for Harry and Hermione. Plus Bill, Charlie and Percy will be home too. I think Perce is having Penelope over too? It’s going to be a full house.”

Lee swore. “Losing to your girlfriend, Fred. It hurts,” he said teasingly. 

Fred crumpled the letter and shoved it into his pocket. He didn’t say anything for the rest of breakfast. 

“Okay, why the long face? Don’t you want Y/N to come?” George asked Fred as they made their way to their first lesson of the day. 

“I… It’s the Burrow. What if she expects more? Better?”

George just shrugged and then gave his twin a knowing look. “So we don’t wipe our arses with galleons. It don’t matter that much. You know Mum just wants to meet her.”

“Mum really wants to meet her.” Fred stopped walking. “Do you know who told ‘er? I hadn’t mentioned Y/N in any of my letters yet.”

“Probably Ginny,” George laughed. 

“What’d my favorite Weasley do?” you asked as you caught up with the boys, a grin on your face. 

“Aw, I thought I was your favorite,” George whined with a faux-pout. 

“Ginerva is telling Mum all my secrets,” Fred said before planting a kiss on the side of your forehead. You didn’t need to know that you were one of those secrets. 

The boys stopped discussing the letter for the time being. George at least had the tact to talk to Fred about his worries about you at a later time. 

You weren’t oblivious to Fred’s palpable worry during the day. He wasn’t normally this quiet or fidgety. Maybe there were days when he was more restless than usual, but today, he kept checking the clock, nervously cracking his knuckles and crumpling something in his pocket. 

One glance at George told him that you were picking up that something was off.

“Don’t worry ‘bout, love. I’ll get ‘im sorted out for you,” George whispered to you after classes before hurrying to catch up with his brother who had already started making his way to Gryffindor Tower.

You watched them both with a concerned frown, but eventually decided not to think about it too much. Did you wish Fred would talk to you about whatever was eating his mind? Yes. But if George was convinced he could get his brother out of the funk, it couldn’t be too bad. 

“Do you think she’ll dump your sorry arse when she sees home?” George asked once they were far enough away. 

Fred didn’t answer. His brain said ‘maybe’ but he couldn’t bring himself to voice it.

George laughed in disbelief. “She wouldn’t! Bloody hell, why’d you think that?”

“You know she comes from… more,” Fred said quietly, the words feeling uncomfortable in his mouth. You weren’t rich rich, but still, it was more than the Weasleys. 

“Hate to break it to you, but I don’t think she’s a gold digger.” George clamped a hand on Fred’s shoulder as they stood outside the Fat Lady’s portrait. “If she was, don’t you think she’d be with Flint or Pinch-Smedley, or Oggspire? Don’t be dense.” His voice had taken a firmer tone.

Don’t be dense, Fred repeated in his mind as he sat in the common room waiting for dinner. Don’t be dense. It’d be fine. It had to be. Was it a tad embarrassing? Sometimes, but at least they didn’t all sleep in one room like Malfoy had once said. 

Fred called you over to sit with him at dinner and by the way he smiled at you as you sat down next to him, you knew George had worked some magic. Fred was back to being Fred. He leaned in as you filled up your plate.

“So, I was wondering if you’d like to visit the Burrow this summer. Mum’s given permission. She’d love to meet you,” he said in a hushed voice. 

You had heard stories about summers at the Burrow. You knew it was home to more than the Weasleys when school was out; Harry, Hermione, Lee, Angelina, Katie, among others, had all been. There were legends of 3-on-3 quidditch matches and Molly’s delectable meals. And you had just been invited. Your face lit up with the brightest smile Fred had seen since the day he asked you out. 

“Yeah, Fred, I’d love to!” You leaned forward so you could see George on Fred’s other side. “Hear that, George? I’m going to see the Burrow!” 

---

Your mother dropped you off at the nearest muggle village to the Burrow. She waited with you until Fred came to meet you. 

“Your parents will be there the whole time?” she asked him when he arrived.

“Yes, ma’am. Mum is dying to meet her,” he said politely.

You, however, rolled your eyes. You bid your mother goodbye and went with Fred.

“I assured her that your parents would be around. Told her you guys have friends over every summer,” you ranted to him as you walked. “That your mum loves to host and meet all your friends. I mean, how else would she get to meet everyone that Ginny talks about in her letters home?”

Fred laughed. Of course you knew it was Ginny who wrote home the most.

He cautiously watched your expression as the Burrow came into view. They had passed the barn and chicken coop, along with several animals. You were speechless as you looked the house up and down. His worry about what you would think melted away when he saw the pure awe on your face. 

“What a peculiar home!” you exclaimed as you reached the sign that said ‘The Burrow’. “The magic-”

“Peculiar?” Molly gasped from the kitchen. 

You hadn’t noticed her yet, still taking in everything that was the Burrow. It’s many stories with rooms jutting out every which way that gave it a very crooked and semi-lopsided appearance. Just from the outside, it was very different from any house you had ever seen, wizarding or muggle. 

You gave Fred a concerned sideways glance. His mother did not sound happy with your comment. He gave you a soft yet reassuring smile. This was his home after all and you had agreed to come stay and meet his family, and so far, you were taking it well.

“You’re here!” Ginny squealed as she burst out the front door and pulled you into a hug. “I can’t wait to show you around!” 

“I can show Y/N around just fine, Ginny,” Fred said, an easier smile coming to his face. 

You just laughed, taking Ginny’s hand once she released you. The three of you entered into the house and walked right into the surprisingly harsh gaze of Molly. 

“Mum,” Fred said warily. “This is Y/N.” 

“Pleasure to meet you,” you said kindly. “You have a-”

“Peculiar home, as you said outside,” Molly cut you off. 

You took a step backwards, stepping on Fred’s foot. He sucked a breath in, loud enough for you to hear. 

“Dinner’s at seven. Keep doors open,” she added shortly before turning back into the kitchen. 

You tried to give Fred a questioning look but he was staring after his mother.

“Come with me. I’ll show you my room! It’s where you, me and ‘Mione will be sleeping. Like one big slumber party!” Ginny said, grabbing your arm again and pulling you toward the twisting stairs. 

Once you and Ginny were gone, Fred followed his mother into the kitchen.

“Mum?” he asked cautiously. 

In his mind, he wanted to ask ‘what the bloody hell was that? You gave me, George and Ron an easier time when we stole Dad’s car to rescue Harry.’ He didn’t, but he wanted to. And he was glad he didn’t when Molly spun around, glaring and pointing a wooden spoon at him.

“Do. Not.” Her voice was sharp. “That girl… The gall… Insulting us before she even…” She turned back to the pot she was stirring and was more muttering to herself than talking to Fred. “Expects us to feed and care for her… Peculiar… I’ll show her peculiar…” 

The rest of the day and the next two were filled with never-ending fun, except for meals when Molly sat down and glared at you from across the table. You spent most of your time with Fred and George, as you had expected to, but you helped with chores around the house and chatted with just about everyone. Percy and Penelope were more quiet than the rest, often opting to read or discuss their jobs quietly when they returned from them. You tried not to take it personally that Molly seemed to like her much more than you. 

Then you got the delight to meet Bill and be properly introduced to Charlie. The latter had been at Hogwarts when you started but it wasn’t like you ever really interacted. The eldest of the Weasley children were incredible story-tellers and just as hilarious as the rest of them. The way Charlie talked about his work with dragons almost made you wish you had taken Care of Magical Creatures and Bill’s stories about Egypt and Gringotts were overall impressive. 

The fourth day of your stay is when you heard how unwelcome you apparently were at the Burrow. Or, at least, according to Molly. 

The living room was alive with various games being played by the siblings and guests. Exploding snap, wizards’ chess, gobstones, you name it. It was loud and warm and fun. Fred noticed your glass was empty and went to the kitchen to refill it for you. 

“Ever the gentleman,” you laughed as he disappeared through the door.

“Fred, how dare you bring a girl like that into this house!” Molly’s voice could be heard through the walls, sending a sudden hush through the room. 

You blinked, looking from George to Ron to Hermione. 

“I thought your family didn’t care about status?” you asked, confusion obvious on your face. 

The Weasley were purebloods. You were a halfblood but Hermione was fully muggleborn and Molly didn’t seem to have a problem with her. Maybe her issue was with wizards and muggles mating? Certainly a new take on blood status… 

You could hear Fred and Molly arguing although significantly quieter than her first outburst. When he returned, his face was beet red and he had forgotten the glasses of water. 

“So, what was that?” Ron asked, breaking the tension.

Fred shook his head before forcing a smile. “Nothing. Just a miscommunication.” 

You knew it wasn’t nothing. For a prankster, Fred could be terrible at lying if something wasn’t sitting right with him. You and George tried to get more out of him to no avail. He wouldn’t discuss what he and their mum had argued about. You two knew it was about you, but Fred gave no details.

When Fred worried about bringing you to his home, he didn’t know that he was worrying about the wrong person. You loved the Burrow and he felt that that much was plain as day to see. But it wasn’t to Molly and Fred ended up telling George as much when he asked him again when they were alone in their room. 

“She wants me to break up with Y/N,” Fred whispered, his voice shaking from anger. “Said she’s too proud for the family. Too stuck up. That she’s rude.”

“But she’s not!”

“I know she’s not. I tried to tell her that. Explain what Y/N meant by ‘peculiar’ and that it’s a good thing. Mum wasn’t having it.”

And the next day, things got worse. Molly stopped trying to hide her distaste for you. She didn’t mutter her comments anymore, rather saying them with full conviction. You tried to stay out of her way and genuinely tried to keep your expression pleasant, but the constant bombardment of hurtful words was getting too much. You hit your breaking point at dinner.

“Can you pass the salt?” you asked no one in particular. It didn’t matter who passed it to you as long as someone did. 

“In this peculiar home, we use manners,” Molly snapped. “Fred, I told you, you need a girl with manners. She certainly doesn’t have any.”

Your expression twisted. 

“Would you rather I just reach over the entire table? Sorry I forgot ‘please,’” you replied, sounding harsher than you would normally speak to any adult, let alone your boyfriend’s mother. 

Molly scoffed. “You are no good for my Fred. You are lucky I don’t toss you out now. He can do so much better.” 

You stood up with so much force your chair scraped the floor, hitting the wall. 

“If that’s how you feel about me…” Your voice cracked. You could feel the heat rising to your face and your hands beginning to shake. Tears began to well behind your eyes, but you weren’t going to let Molly see you cry. “No need to toss me out. I’ll just leave now.” 

You turned and left the room before chaos broke out. You could hear Fred and George yelling. You could hear Arthur and Molly yelling. Ron, Hermione and Ginny joined in before you made it to the front door. 

When Fred had invited you to spend time with his family over the summer, you didn’t expect to be in their garden sobbing as you launched garden gnomes over the hedge. You could still hear the yelling inside the Burrow. You weren’t exactly sure what you did wrong, what you did to make Molly dislike you so much so quickly. Your wand laid on the ground off the side with a soft glow from the Lumos you had cast so you could sort of see what you were doing.

“Are you… de-gnoming our garden?” George asked, trying to hide the amusement in his voice as you launched another gnome. The yelling had quieted now, but you could still hear that heated words were being exchanged.

“One bit me…” you mumbled before sniffling again. 

One had bit you, but that wasn’t why you were crying and you knew that George knew that. Being bit, however, made you feel slightly better about the tears streaming down your face. 

“You know he’s not going to break up with you.”

You nodded. “What did I do?” You launched another gnome.

“You, erm, called the Burrow peculiar? I guess Mum didn’t like that…” He chuckled awkwardly.

When you gave a loud sniffle instead of laughing with him, he pulled you into a hug. You dropped the gnome you had in your hand.

“She’ll come ‘round. Fred’s in there. Ron’s there. Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Percy even. They are all trying to explain to Mum that you didn’t mean it like that. I mean, come on, you got golden boy Percy defending you.”

You gave him a weak smile as you pulled out of his hug. You picked up your wand and pointed it at the Burrow, although it didn’t do much to illuminate the building. 

“It is peculiar though! It’s amazing! Ne’er seen anything like it before. It’s so… distinctly Weasley in the best way possible!” 

George let out a loud laugh and soon enough you were giggling with him. He kept you company outside and kept you laughing until there were no more sniffles coming from you. Eventually, Fred came to collect you both. He led you upstairs to his and George’s room, but George stayed in the living room with the rest of the family. You could hear Molly grumbling to herself in the kitchen as you passed the door, but everyone else seemed to be far more cheerful gathered by the fire. 

You felt your heart jump to your throat when Fred closed the door behind him. You stood in the middle of room, trying to not feel awkward.

“Is this where you break up with me for accidentally insulting your mum?” you asked softly, looking at the ground. You knew George said he wouldn’t but the idea lingered in your mind.

“What are you talking about?” Fred breathed as he quickly moved to you and wrapped his arms around you tighter than George had. 

You couldn’t help it. You started crying again.

“Y/N, no. Not unless…” He pulled back to look you in the eyes. “Unless you want to?” There was so much hesitation and uncertainty in his voice. It broke your heart to hear him like that.

“No, I don’t want to. But your mum-”

“My mum still doesn’t know you meant it as a compliment.”

You rested your forehead on his shoulder. You took a deep breath to breathe in his scent. 

“She just needs to be ‘round you more, get to know you. Then she’ll love you like I do.”

Your eyes went wide against his shoulder. ‘Love you like I do.’ Had Fred just indirectly said he loved you? 

The way Fred stopped talking and stood more frigidly told you that he realized what he said after the words left his mouth. He was waiting for you to give him some kind of reaction. Was it too soon? 

After a moment, you lifted your head and you kissed him. You felt him relax underneath you. Of all your kisses, this was one of the most mild ones yet it was charged with so much emotion.

“I love you too,” you whispered as you broke the kiss.

He smiled at you before kissing you again. 

“You know, I was actually so nervous to bring you here.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Well, because it is a bit peculiar,” he teased. “No, really, I don’t talk about it much but we’re not… rolling in galleons per se. We make do. We get by. It’s just-”

“I don’t care about that, Fred,” you said, cutting him off before gently kissing his cheek. “It’s your home and your family and it’s all amazing. I’d rather be in a home filled with love and laughter than anything else.” 

“Once Mum comes to her senses, you won’t know what to do with all the love she can give,” Fred warned. 

“I can’t wait for that.”

Because I'm a petty bitch who hold grudges, I really see Molly not coming around until like Bill & Fleur's wedding or beyond, and Reader knows this so she just doesn't really visit the Burrow as much and Ginny is v upset that Reader isn't staying at the Burrow for the wedding and Reader is just like 'I'm not going to impose where I know I'm not wanted.'

[hp-fanfic-archive]

Unlikely by ObsidianPen (@obsidianpen) Pairing: Harry/Tom Riddle Rating: T Word Count: 2k “Like all magical people, you will get a soul mark when you get your wand,” the genial wizard explained after calmly lighting Tom’s wardrobe and sense of self-preservation on fire. “Unless, of course, your soulmate is younger than you. Then your soul mark shall appear whenever theirs does. They are always on one’s chest, right over your heart. Usually, they are somewhat vague and take time to interpret correctly. Phrases such as ‘Rival to Lover’, or ‘Instantaneous Love’… But they always make sense in the end, and it becomes apparent whom the great, wild magic intended you to be with.” Tom Marvolo Riddle lived his entire, long life thinking that he - Lord Voldemort - was the exception to love. Harry learned at eleven that he would never escape the damnation of Tom Marvolo Riddle. (translation available in Русский)