#i don't know if harry caught that lol

[calmlyerratic]

Sirius really says he's been living off rats after Peter escaped in PoA

Harry pulled open his bag and handed over the bundle of chicken legs and bread.

"Thanks," said Sirius, opening it, grabbing a drumstick, sitting down on the cave floor, and tearing off a large chunk with his teeth. "I've been living off rats mostly. Can't steal too much food from Hogsmeade; I'd draw attention to myself."

He grinned up at Harry, but Harry returned the grin only reluctantly.

— GoF, Ch 27

[1d1195]

Most VI

Read Most here | ~4.3k words

From me: I think you guys don't give me enough credit for NOT putting cliffhangers in some of these (jk, I'm the worst lol) This part is a little shorter than the most recent parts --I was going to combine it with the last part, but decided to keep it self-contained because it seemed better that way. One more part to go! :)

Warnings: Lauren, angst, and a house fire. Please suspend your belief.

Summary: Harry finally figures out why she left. He just hopes it's not too late.

Harry was buzzing. His shift went by so fast knowing she was at the end of it.

Harry stopped to get her coffee. It was two in the afternoon when he finally left work, went home to shower, then make his way back toward her place. There were a lot of things that changed, but he hoped some hadn’t. Such that she would be getting up from her nap and would want a coffee.

“Hey, Lo,” Harry said as he entered the shop with a wave. Lauren was waiting on others in front of him, so he stood in line analyzing the menu wondering if she liked something different now. He couldn’t stop smiling, he could feel his cheeks nearly bursting. “What do y’think the chances are that she likes the same drink?” Harry asked as he approached the register.

It took a minute for Harry to notice that Lauren didn’t answer. He looked down from the menu and was totally confused by the expression on Lauren’s face. “You really love her? After she broke your heart?”

He stared at her. Unsure of where the question came from. Especially from her. Harry still didn’t know Lauren extensively, but it was an odd question to ask anyone and even odder for her to broach it.

But Harry would answer it any day. “Of course I do, Lauren. Why wouldn’t I?”

She shook her head. “You deserve so much more than her,” Lauren’s eyes filled with tears and her voice cracked.

Harry’s brain worked slowly. Those words were familiar. Too familiar. The way she said them. The emphasis. His breathing felt erratic, and he realized too late that he was in flight-or-fight mode. The way his body started to shake. None of the puzzle pieces were fitting together but at the same time they were. All of them. Like he knew what happened the day she left as if they were said to him himself. “What... Lo... what did y’say?” It sounded like something she had said to him no less than eighteen hours ago. Her reasoning for that day.

Lauren covered her mouth, squeezed her eyes shut. Then, when she spoke, her words were caught on a choked sob. “She wasn’t supposed to come back! You weren’t supposed to wait for her!”

Harry took a step back. The coffee shop was too small suddenly and he was way too close to her. “Lauren,” his voice was low. His heart was aching; like it already knew what happened but unable to fully believe it. “What did y’do?” He whispered. But now, in the few seconds he had to reminisce where it went wrong. Harry thought back on it, he thought about the way Lauren’s grip had felt around his neck when he helped carry her to bed.

All that time...

It’s not fair.

Harry shook his head of the memory trying to focus on how he felt now. “Lauren,” he repeated. “What did y’say t’her?”

“I just thought that if she was gone you would see there was more than her for you.”

He backed up again, like she had slapped him. He bumped into the display behind him knocking a few bags of coffee grinds to the floor. “How could you?” He shook his head, it felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. There wasn’t enough air. All that time just gone because of someone’s rotten jealousy. “You’re supposed to be her friend!”

“I–I… I don’t know… I just thought–”

“Did y’even message her all that time? Did y’even try?” He shouted. There was only a half dozen people in the coffee shop, but they all stared at Harry’s outburst.

“Oh... oh, my goodness,” someone whispered. Someone who very clearly knew what happened between her and Harry three years ago and how Lauren, if she was anyone’s friend, would have done anything to help them. But she didn’t. She let Harry suffer and watched him order countless coffees and asked if she had heard anything from her.

“Harry—”

“How could you?!” He shouted. It was pure silence this time. Lauren covered her mouth again and sobbed. “Three years, Lauren! Three years I have been half alive without her. How could y’do that t’her? How?”

“I-I—”

“Eleven hundred days, Lauren! Eleven. Hundred. One thousand, one hundred, twenty-seven days. Six birthdays, three Christmases, three anniversaries, that we’ll never get back because of you.”

Harry might have felt bad had Lauren tried to get him to leave all those years ago instead of her. Because if Harry had left, he would have been the stupidest person alive and he would have deserved to feel broken and terrible for three years. But it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know why Lauren said it. She didn’t know how Lauren’s hand had felt on the back of his neck. Lauren preyed upon the sweet girl’s insecurities and extorted the kindness she possessed.

Lauren betrayed her friend. She broke both their hearts because she was jealous. So, Harry didn’t feel bad. Not even a little.

He shook his head, his anger and frustration reaching a boiling point and he needed to get out of there and punch a tree before he did something stupid. Without another word, without another thought of Lauren and what she did, he started for the exit quickly.

However, when his hand touched the door there was one last thing he needed to say. Hopefully, it was going to be the last thing he ever said to her. “Don’t ever speak t’her again, Lauren. She’s too kind t‘say it and I don’t want her t’know. So, I’ll say it on her behalf: Don’t. Ever. Speak to her. Again.”

*

Harry sped much too fast in his car the entire way to her apartment building. His mind was racing. Trying to figure out what happened in the three years and how it could have gotten so far away from him… away from her.

Why didn’t he press more that night? Why didn’t he go visit her after a year—no, a week? An hour. Why didn’t he try?

Harry was so wrapped up in his thoughts he didn’t even realize there were sirens in the distant background. He didn’t realize people were pointing in the direction he was headed. For the first time since he decided he wanted to help his community and he was going to be a firefighter, Harry didn’t see the smoke.

When he parked off to the side because he knew the trucks would be coming, he searched for the car he saw in the middle of traffic just a couple short weeks ago. He prayed it wouldn’t be there. But it was. “Fuck,” he whispered to himself. He saw a new storage pod outside, but it was locked shut—she wasn’t outside. He dialed her phone number. Praying he was unblocked. He hadn’t texted or called her in the time she had been back. He had deleted her contact info but and her messages fell to the bottom of the list with disuse—it was far easier to type her number than scroll looking for it. The idea he was going to scare her away again far outweighed his desire to have communication with her—seeing her in person was more than sufficient. It was, in a way, slow and old-fashioned, he had bargained to see her by accident.

But now that seemed like the stupidest idea he had ever had.

It had been ages since he dialed her number, but the ten digits were imprinted on his mind like the melody of his favorite song or a tattoo on his arm. He tapped his screen as quickly as he could. Paced in front of the burning door, watching the flames float up curtains and walls swiftly.

He listened to it ring. Which was a miracle.

But there was no answer.

His stomach churned.

He dialed again.

No answer.

Harry started to sweat. He ran a hand through his hair. “Everyone is out,” someone shouted.

But Harry didn’t believe that. Pressed his thumb on her number again.

No answer.

Harry stared at the building. It was supposed to be a saving grace, this building. She was home. But right then, he hated it. With intense passion. Hated it more than anything.

“C’mon,” he murmured to himself.

There was a pause in the ringing. “Mmm… Hi Harry,” she whispered sleepily. For the briefest second Harry forgot the reason for his call. “Is your shift over? Are you coming to me or do you want me to come to your place?” She murmured. God, Harry loved her so much. Even in a dangerous situation, he was so happy to hear his name on her lips. Right when she woke up. It was only seconds between her answer and his sentence but after she had been gone all of time felt slower, he had to fill it with more. He thought of all the mornings he lost with her. All the weekends he would have spent in her dorm waking up on a mattress that was too small for two people, but it wouldn’t have mattered because he could never be close enough to her. He didn’t get to hear her say Hi Harry in a sleepy voice and relish it.

He couldn’t do that now.

“Baby, please tell me you’re not home,” he begged, but he was already pulling his jacket from his car. He would have put his whole suit on if he had it with him, but obviously he didn’t. The jacket wasn’t station-issued but it was flame resistant and it would have to do. It seemed so counterintuitive to cover up more when he was already sweating with anxiety and from the hot summer sun. Next came gloves that he had from helping Gemma cut down trees in her yard. Again, not fire station approved, but they would have to work. 

His eyes stayed glued to the building watching her balcony. This was a nightmare. Worse than any one that Harry ever had of her. He would take another three years apart over this.

“I just... woke up from a nap,” she yawned, stretched. God, he would have paid thousands of dollars just to see it. One brain cell was happy her nap time hadn’t changed.

But this wasn’t the time to worry about her nap. “At... Eleanor’s?” He hoped, squeezing his eyes shut.

She coughed, unaware. “No,” she coughed again. “I’m at my apartment, why?”

He opened his eyes and saw the smoke and fire crawling up to the third floor. The slew of people around him crying and watching as the building went up in flames. Memories lost and trinkets gone. He closed his eyes tight. “Kitten,” he whispered. “I need you t’listen very carefully t’me. Y’need t’stay calm. Can y’do that?”

“Harry, what’s wrong?” He heard her shuffle.

“Baby, m’here. I promise. M’not gonna let anything happen t’you,” he assured her.

“What are you talking about? What’s—it’s,” she coughed again. “Ugh,” she sighed. “It’s super hot in here and the AC isn’t working—I think I have to have the super look at—”

“Kitten,” he rubbed his forehead, terrified of her reaction. “M’outside your building. It’s on fire and you need to get out.”

There was a pause. “No...” she shook her head. Coughed. “No, the smoke detectors didn’t go off.”

It was his worst fear. Her sleeping like the dead terrified him. He always worried something horrible like this would happen. Thank God he called her. But if the detectors didn’t even go off... she didn’t have a chance.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Baby, y’need t’go,” he could see the fourth floor, right below hers—the windows began seeping with thick smoke. She gasped and shuffled back.

“Oh... oh no,” she whispered. “Harry, the hallway...” her voice cracked. “Harry, what do I do?”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and held the phone tighter in his hand. He wished he could teleport up there. He heard water running. Probably a towel or blanket she was soaking while she still could. Good girl. “Baby, y’need t’come to the balcony.”

It was the reason an astronaut wasn’t feasible after all their training that one week. It was why she would never have a kiss on a Ferris Wheel or why she would never reach the top of a mountain hike. Anything higher than two stories was too tall and too scary.

Now more than ever.

She shook her head, Harry couldn’t see her, but he knew it. “I can’t do that... I... I...”

“I know, baby, I know it’s high. But you have to,” he wanted to scream but he had to be calm for her.

She couldn’t even bring herself to the window to look down. Harry was so scared as he thought of how much smoke she was inhaling whether there was a wet blanket around her head or not. “I can’t,” she croaked. “It’s too high.”

“Kitten, I know,” he agreed. “I know,” he squeezed his eyes shut. “But I need you to get out,” he clutched the phone tighter. “Like right now.”

The sound of firetruck doors slammed from behind him. “Styles! What are you doing here?”

“Someone’s in there,” he shouted back.

“We’ve been told everyone’s been accounted for!”

He turned and glared toward the voice that said it. “Where’s the fucking ladder truck!?”

But Harry already knew that the building was taller than any of the ones in town. Even if it was here, it would only reach the third floor. 

“They’re coming from the town over… Who’s still in there—”

She coughed. It was muffled by her shirt, the wet towel she surely had over her head. “I can’t, Harry. I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “I’m too scared and it’s,” she was broken up by a cough again.

“S’not an option, baby,” he shook his head. She wasn’t giving up. He wasn’t allowing her to give up. He was stepping closer to the house prepared to run up the stairs from the first floor, through the flames, and five flights of stairs. Where the fuck was the ladder truck?!

“Styles, it’s unstable. You’re not to enter—that’s an order. It’s not safe!” The voice of the fire chief shouted from behind him.

He was going to get fired—but a chance of reaching her? It was well worth it. He would take third degree burns over every inch of his body in trade for her safety. It didn't matter what he needed to do. “Baby, you still with me?”

“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m really scared, Harry.”

He winced, feeling so much agony over her fear. His brain wasn’t moving fast enough. “Where’s the goddamn truck!?” He shouted behind him, his voice quieting on the phone. The rest of the squad was hooking up hoses to fire hydrants and looking for a point of entry to determine the safety of the building. Talking with the manager of the building. 

Then his voice softened, even though he was desperate and broken. “I know, baby. I know. S’okay. M’gonna get you out,” he promised.

“Harry,” she sniffled. It felt worse than third degree burns. It felt worse than not knowing if she ate breakfast or got a good night’s sleep. Nothing felt as bad as her sniffling; sad and scared. Harry wanted to hold her and assure her it would be okay; but he was too far away.

“M’here, baby. M’here,” he promised.

“Harry—”

“Kitten, I just need t’think for one second and I’ll get y’out—”

“Harry, baby—”

“—I promise. I would never—”

“Harry, I really, really love you,” she croaked. Silencing any thought Harry had. “I always have. I didn’t stop loving you. Not even for a second. I think I love you more if that’s even possible.”

It felt like the last three years never existed. She was never gone. The hole in his heart was filled. His lungs didn’t feel short of breath, and his muscles stopped aching. She loved him. He thought of Gemma saying she would never do something that would hurt both of them.

But Harry was sick of her goodbyes. He didn’t like that they came without warning. They never said goodbye or goodnight. It was always implied she would see him tomorrow.

Harry dropped his phone without responding. He didn’t think; didn’t think logically at all. His training was gone. He relied on his instinct and the strength training he had thrown himself into at the gym. 

He marched up to the first first-floor patio railing and stood on it as the rest of his coworkers shouted. He had seen moments of incredible strength and determination from every day people choosing to be heroes. Harry would never tout himself as such, but he was going to be heroic for her.

The distinct voice of his chief started to shout after him as well, but it was too late. He had to be quick for a hundred reasons, but if they stopped him, something bad would happen to her. Then he would die--that he was sure of. The railing was a good jumping point. Heat poured from the building. People shouted at him. Shouted into the walkies to get the ladder truck there ASAP. He was so fired. But it didn’t matter. 

He jumped up from the railing and grabbed for the balusters the second floor balcony. He yanked himself up in a chin-up that his friends and coworkers would be proud of if they had a moment to admire it. Once on the second balcony, he remained perched for a moment. Gathering his nerve, and resetting his muscles before he launched up to the next floor in the same way as the second. Then he did it for the fourth and fifth balconies as well. He didn’t think about how high up he was. How a free fall would definitely break his spine or very much something worse. He wasn’t the one afraid of heights after all.

She was more important. Always. He was not going to let her say I love you on the phone to him after three years of nothing, make him whole again, and then just leave permanently.

Once on her balcony, his muscles screamed. He pulled on the slider but it was locked. He pressed his face to the glass and searched for her but couldn’t see her through the smoke.

“Goddammit!” He shouted, slamming his fist on the slider. But she probably couldn’t hear it over the sound of the room separating her, the sirens, and probably the sound of her own coughing. Harry pressed his gloved hands to his face and pressed his hands to his pockets searching for anything that could be useful.

Then his saving grace was a planter in the corner of the balcony. Time seemed to be moving so slowly, he could have cried. He yanked the stand surely straining a muscle in his back but that didn't matter either. The plant tumbled to her patio floor and in the same motion, he smashed the heavy holder it into the slider. He turned his head away to avoid the glass and the heat bloomed from inside.

“Kitten, if y’can hear me. I need you t'come t’my voice,” he shouted. The floor creaked under the weight of his foot. It made his training kick in, he couldn’t keep going. It was useless if he fell through the floor and couldn’t keep her safe. 

It killed a piece of him, but he stayed where he was. Through the smoke, he searched for her. “Kitten, please,” he begged.

Holding onto the frame of the door he stepped into the room, shirt over his mouth, his foot feeling for a support beam that hadn’t been broken by the flames or something.

“Goddammit,” he croaked. “Where are you?” His eyes burned from the smoke and heat but he tried anyway because he had to find her.

“I’m here,” she called weakly.

He closed his eyes, his heart aching as he breathed out inside his shirt. “Good. Good, baby. Come here,” his eyes were watering from the smoke or heat. He thought. Or maybe it was just pure relief flooding his vision. In actuality, they were just tears. “Baby, you have t’come here now.” He ordered.

The floor creaked and he didn’t know where she was and it killed him. He couldn’t see through the smoke. 

He prayed none of her possessions were lost. Her phone probably had pictures on it that she loved, or words jotted into her notes app that never made it to a notebook. Who bought her notebooks and pens now? Was there anyone that knew her like he did? He was going to get her a notebook and pen right after he got her out of here. There was the distinct sound of the ladder setting up behind him.

“Harry,” she croaked. “I didn’t—”

“Kitten, just come here,” he begged. “I don’t care. Just…” 

“I thought you…” God he needed to see her. Needed to hold her. Her voice sounded like she didn’t know he was coming for her—like he would ever let her die in a fire and let I love you be the last thing she ever said to him. 

“Carefully, baby,” he reminded her, wishing more than anything he could run across the room and grab her as fast as he could. Praying that she knew he would never let anything happen to her.

“Harry, it’s cracking,” she whimpered.

“Kitten,” his heart was racing worse than any other time in his life. “You have to,” he was telling her, but it sounded like he was begging. “Please,” he wasn’t against begging—not if it would get her out. “If I come t’you, I’ll fall through, I don’t think you’ll want that,” he didn’t want to sound self-important he, just wanted her out. He was so stressed by this predicament, he worried he was going to have a heart attack at the ripe age of twenty-three right in front of her. He took another cautious step toward where he thought her voice came from. The wood groaned under the pressure. “Kitten, please,” he pleaded.

Her cough was closer. The creaking was nearer. 

Then through the plume of smoke, he saw her--just barely. The collar of her T-shirt over her mouth, a wet towel around her head. The muscles of his back released ever so slightly. “Good girl,” he encouraged. “Nice and slow,” he crouched to the same level as she crawled below the smoke. He brushed the floor in front of him with his gloves. “Just a little more, baby,” he whispered. “M’here,” he promised. “There’s a lot of glass—please be careful,” he begged. But he would pluck out every piece himself if it meant she was alive for him to do it.

Once she was within grabbing range--near enough to the balcony that he wouldn't need to step on the crumbling floor, he yanked her to him. Pulling her to stand and clutching her to him as if their lives were dependent on it. For a moment, he held her, kissed the side of her face as she coughed and he felt along her ribs as if she wasn't real and holding her was all in his head.

It was no longer than three seconds, but it could have been hours or days that he held her. The sound of everything falling apart below them didn’t matter. The creaking, the wood breaking, the integrity of the building melting. All of it didn’t matter. “C’mon,” he ushered her further out on the balcony. The ladder was greeting him. Finally.

He sighed with relief. “Kitten,” his voice was soft, a bit hoarse with anxiety and smoke coating his esophagus. “Close your eyes and don’t open ‘em until I say so, yeah?”

“Please don’t fall,” she mumbled and tucked her face against his jacket. He knew it was a protective layer, but he wished with everything in him it was softer for her delicate face.

“Never, baby,” he promised, dragging a gloved hand across her cheek wishing it was also his hand and not the rough material.

“I was talking to myself,” the smallest of smiles graced her pretty lips.

Harry buried his nose in her hair. The skin between his eyebrows pinched together. Without full control of his emotions, he released a quiet chuckle and his eyes continued to water from the smoke (they was definitely just tears). His laugh was barely loud enough for her to hear. “I won’t let that happen, kitten,” he promised anyway. He hauled himself over the railing and onto the ladder. He held his hand out. “C’mere, kitten. M’here.” She tentatively stepped forward. “Hold your hand out,” he whispered. As she did, he grabbed it immediately. “Good girl,” he encouraged. “I’m going to lift you now, okay?”

“Harry,” she whispered, her voice full of worry. “It’s–”

“Baby, s’not an option,” he repeated.

“But—”

He yanked her closer, watching the smoke billow out of her slider door. The flames crept closer and the only thing that kept him from losing his grip on reality was that she was holding his hand and not victim to the flames behind them. Without hearing her protest, he lifted her. As if she weighed nothing but a bag of groceries. He cradled her as he had been taught in the academy and practiced regularly with his coworkers. But he thought of the wedding he always had dreamed about. How he would be cheesy, and he wanted nothing more than to carry her over the threshold of wherever they resided.

It wasn’t soft or pretty that way, but holding her then...

Well, it was better than any threshold he could have dreamed of.

--

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[claymoresword]

I Choose Her | Chp: 17

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of two known death eaters from one of the oldest and richest families in the wizarding world. Are you truly prepared to give up everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 3.9k

Warnings: plot heavy, a sprinkle of fluff , smut (?) , dark themes

Note: hi! sorry this one took so long i'm not even going to get into it, what's important is that it's finally here lol I'd say there's maybe 2 more chapters left of this story including the epilogue. i'm not too sure yet, but we are definitely nearing the end which is sort of bitter sweet.. but anyway, as always i hope you enjoy this one!

Taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karasonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic @idontwannabehereatm @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1 @t-wylia @raven-ss @unexpected-character

“Here, this should do.” Hermione states in a hushed tone whilst dragging you behind a pillar to hide.

You stood behind her as she retrieved the cloak of invisibility from her bag, quickly draping it over the both of you.

Hermione pulls you even closer to remain as hidden as possible, so you instinctively wrap your arms around her torso.

You were allowed limited time to devise a plan as Snape summoned all students out of bed, all ordered to assemble in the Great Hall at once.

Harry made the impulsive decision to hide amongst the crowd of students so he may confront the Headmaster. The rest of you are forced to follow his lead, entirely improvising as you go.

Despite yourself, you do hope that Ron has managed to sneak out of the castle in time to fetch the other members of the Order. 

The Dark Lord and his followers are expected to march against Hogwarts any minute now, Harry needs all the help he can get.

-

Hogwarts always felt vaguely warm and comfortable to you, but now it is dense and inhospitable. You hardly recognised it anymore.

It is consistently hard to catch your breath, and you can't seem to ignore the uncomfortable chill running down your spine.

Hermione's presence being your only source of comfort, during a time that you otherwise found utterly debilitating. 

“Well, I don't know about you but this is quite nice. I really wouldn't mind staying like this with you, forever.” You attempt to lighten the mood as you further pressed your front against Hermione's back, earning a light chuckle in response.

“Honestly, I wouldn't mind either.” Hermione leans back slightly allowing you to place a quick kiss on her cheek before standing upright once more.

Your girlfriend keeps her eyes on the large group of students marching past, in anomalous unison. The sounds of their rhythmic footsteps echo through the halls. Not a single word is uttered amongst them. 

You can feel Hermione tense against your hold, as if she was trying to fight a similar feeling of deep and inescapable unease.

The final group of students enter through the doors, the large wooden panels shut with a large thud. 

Then, it is only silence, you can only hear the sound of your own breathing, the loud thumping of your raised heartbeat in your ears.

“Y/n..” Hermione's voice is a welcomed distraction from the unbearable quiet, it nearly makes you smile. 

“Yes, darling.” You respond, the other woman turns slightly so she may look at you as she speaks.

“I've been thinking..” Hermione starts. “It is no use that we find the other Hocruxes if we don't have the means to destroy it.”

Hermione's words make you pause. Truth be told, it hadn't even occurred to you until now. You had been so caught up in trying to locate the next object that you had entirely forgotten you no longer had the sword of Gryffindor in your possession.

“There's no chance we can take back the sword.. not now.” You think aloud, searching your mind for a solution. Hermione releases a groan at that, frustration and defeat. “I know.”

Then it occurs to you, a miraculous solution to your issue, or a shot in the dark, you were not yet certain.

“The Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets..” You trail off, now capturing Hermione's full attention. “What happened to it after Harry slayed it?” You ask, hoping your girlfriend will give you the answer you were looking for.

“Nothing, it's still there, left to decay in the Chamber.” Hermione replies, and a beat passes where nothing is said between you, but your girlfriend manages to catch up to your train of thought anyway.

“If we find a way to the chamber we can retrieve the Basilisk fang from the skeleton and destroy the Hocrux.” Your girlfriend voices the contents of your mind for you.

“With some luck.” You add.

Then, Hermione grins, a look of relief washes over her. Still underneath the cloak Hermione manages to turn around, she loops her arms around your neck, quickly guiding you in for a searing kiss, one that leaves your lips tingling even moments after she has pulled away. 

“You are brilliant.” Hermione utters, and this time it is your turn to smile.

“That's all you, my love.” You quip. Watching as Hermione makes a face in contentment before turning away from you once again.

Snape's voice can be faintly heard from where the two of you were standing, you tried to listen but Hermione's kiss ignited something within you. A sudden sense of serenity, now you are convinced that everything will turn out as you plan, as if you weren't currently in imminent danger.

As you held Hermione in your arms you allowed yourself to forget the threat of battle, if only for a few moments.

You can't hardly help the way your hand slips underneath her sweater, you feel her goosebumps forming underneath your touch as your palm grazes her bare stomach. 

This only works to urge you on as you carefully part her hair away from her neck, so you may plant gentle kisses against her warm flesh. Hermione's eyes flutter shut at the sensation, and you can hear her breath quickening. 

Although, you aren't allowed to carry on for long as she finally places her hand atop yours, removing it from underneath her top.

“Stop distracting me, I am trying to listen.” Hermione scolds, half-heartedly, her tone makes you smirk, a fire threatens to ignite, but you relent.

You could still only make out bits and pieces of what the Headmaster was saying, and nothing coherent. 

Soon deciding that you needed to get closer to the doors if you hoped to find out what was going on inside. You observed the lack of teachers roaming the halls, it appears you and Hermione were alone.

“Let's move closer.” You suggest, pulling the cloak off both of you so you may move freely.

“Alright.” Hermione agrees, clutching your hand as you advance forward together. 

Through the crack in the door, you are able to spot Snape, on the podium, addressing the students, the Carrows standing by either side of him.

“Punished in a matter consistent with the severity of their transgression.”

“Any person to have knowledge.. who fails to come forward, will be treated as equally guilty.”

You listened as the Headmaster continued hurling his veiled threats towards the group of blameless students. It makes your blood run cold and it appears Hermione felt as equally unsettled by Snape's words.

“Now then, If anyone here has any knowledge of Mr Potter's movements this evening. I invite them to step forward.. now.” Snape's words are met with complete silence, and your belly tightens with nauseating suspense.

The sound of sudden footsteps that echo from behind the two of you breaks the tantalizing quiet. It makes you whirl around in a panic, only for you to spot Ron next to his brother, Shacklebolt behind him and then the rest of the Order.

“What's going on?” Ron asks, looking between you and Hermione, and you merely hold your hand up to silence him as Hermione continues peeking through the crack.

The next thing that can be heard is a mass of gasps coming from the other side of the doors, students muttering amongst themselves. Before you can question it, the sound of Harry's voice validates your anxiety. 

You freeze, whereas Hermione merely steps forward, bracing her hand against the door, as if prepared to push it open, ready to come to Harry's defense.

“It seems, despite your exhaustive defensive strategies, you seem to have a bit of a security problem, Headmaster.” Harry's voice can be heard clearly as Hermione pushes the wooden doors open, you along with the rest of the Order follow her lead, now wands in hand, entering the hall as a group.

All eyes are now on you, more gasps in disbelief as you all stood behind Harry.

You then make the mistake of letting your eyes wander, it doesn't take long before you catch Pansy's gaze. Her stare, hardened and unforgiving enough to make you look away in an instant. You decide to focus your attention ahead.

Harry's harsh voice makes the walls in the hall vibrate.

“How dare you stand where he stood? Tell them how it happened that night, tell them how you look him in the eye, a man who trusted you and killed him.”

Harry continues to taunt the Headmaster, all he is granted with is silence, for a long moment, until Snape retrieves his wand.

He points it at Harry but before The Chosen One is allowed a chance to properly react, he is shoved out of the way, Professor McGonagall shielding him with her person.

It all happens quickly, the Professor flings spell after spell at the Headmaster, and everyone can merely observe with bated breaths as Snape deflected every blow.

The Headmaster lifts his wand to shield himself but this time the curse rebounds. As a result, the Carrows fall, unconscious.

Professor McGonagall steps closer but before she can attack once again, Snape is no longer upright as he quickly transfigures into a black mass, apparating out of the window behind him. The broken glass falls with a large crash.

A stunned silence before an eruption of cheers from the bystanders. Celebrating the Professor's triumph. 

Hermione glances at you with a similar look of relief, but the both of you recognize that it is fleeting.

Just as you expected, the moment of joy is over as quickly as it began. The mark on your arm, what was a dull ache turns into a searing pain, so sudden and paralyzing that it knocks you to the ground, still clutching your arm.

Hermione rushes to your side, but before she can attempt to question what was wrong Harry can also be seen collapsing onto the floor in front of you.

You catch a glimpse of Hermione's panicked expression, she turns to her best friend and then to you. Your girlfriend attempts to speak to you but you cannot hear her.

The pain in your arm has now spread, you shut your eyes tightly as you endured it. The hall grows dark once again, stagnant and cold. A spine chilling voice of the Dark Lord echoes through the air, easily distinguishable and unsettling. 

Soon there is a mass of screams coming from each corner of the room, students plugging their ears in terror.

Lord Voldermort aims to convey a message; a threat.

Hermione is holding you tightly against her own body, the pain in your arm is finally reduced to a dull ache once again.

“I know that many of you will want to fight, some of you may even think that to fight is wise, but this is folly.”

“Give me Harry Potter, do this and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded.”

“You have one hour.”

The Dark Lord's attempt to entice has merely immobilized everyone for a prolonged moment.

You finally get back on your feet, Hermione does not let go of you still. “Are you alright?” She manages to find the words and you only nod in response.

As you glanced around the room, you realized that once again, all eyes are on Harry. This time the stares are hostile, some uncertain, others, plain terror.

Pansy's voice is first to break the tense stillness. “What are you waiting for? Someone grab him.” She points to The Chosen One.

Ginny is first to step in front of Harry, followed by Ron, Hermione, yourself and the rest of the Order follow suit.

As Pansy catches your stare again she scoffs, this time your hardened expression mirrors her own.

“Mr Filch, if you would, I would like you to please escort Ms Parkinson and the rest of Slytherin house from the hall.” Professor McGonagall orders the caretaker of the castle. 

The man emerges from the crowd, his tired long haired cat in his arms. “Where exactly will I be leading them to, Maam?” He asks.

“The dungeons would do.” The Professor quickly states. This makes Hermione reach down to hold your hand once again, you respond by intertwining your fingers.

There was more sudden applause from the students as they celebrated Mr Filch leading the other Slytherins out of the hall.

As expected, you notice Pansy walking towards you, and you make the hasty decision to turn away so you could hopefully avoid her. However, you don't get the chance to try as she gets close enough to grab your collar harshly, then you react on instinct, getting a tight hold on her wrist.

“Fucking traitor.” She hisses, the sudden nature of the interaction makes you wince.

You open your mouth to speak but Hermione quickly steps in. “Let go of her, or I swear you will be leaving this hall with no hands.” There is enough vitriol in her voice to make anyone cower, but Pansy was not yet done, in fact she barely acknowledges your girlfriend at all. 

“If I had known you were with your muggle pet this entire time..” Pansy trails off, she shakes her head slightly, repulsed.

“You're an embarrassment. I can hardly believe I ever considered you a friend.” Pansy retorts.

The same Pansy you have known since first year. You can't help the pang in your chest, her words manage to graze you.

She grants you a scowl before storming off, Blaise follows immediately after her, having listened to the entire interaction. He bumps his own shoulder against yours before slipping past, purposefully setting you off balance. 

You held your tongue, reminding yourself to remain calm.

When you turn to Hermione once more the look plastered on her face makes you ache. She recognizes your hurt, and she can't help but feel it too. “Y/n–” She starts but you quickly interject with a change of topic.

“I have half a mind to carve this thing out of me.” You quip, only partly joking. The dark mark now stifled by your sleeve.

Your joke doesn't translate, in fact it only urges Hermione to worry about you more. “You will do no such thing.” She warns with furrowed brows as she reaches up to fix the collar of your shirt, badly creased from Pansy's fury.

Hermione's own wrath yet to dissipate, you feel it in the way her hand trembles. 

You smile faintly at her in gratitude, in an endless sea of chaos, she is your helm.

As the rest of the students begin clearing the hall, Harry rushes past as well, urging Ron, y/n and Hermione to follow. “Come on.” He exclaims without looking back.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Terror pollutes the air surrounding Hogwarts, contagious and unrelenting. It infects everyone, guiding and inspiring frantic behaviour. 

As all the Professors remain in the outer courtyard, securing the castle, students are left indoors to their own devices. Everyone is pushing, shoving. Coming and going. No one knows what to do, the only thing that's certain is that fear hangs over them a dark cloud enveloping all. 

“Harry, wait!” Hermione exclaims, trying to get her friend's attention but dark haired man barrels forward, Ron by his side.

Your finally manage to catch up to him, Hermione tugs on Harry's arm, forcefully urging him to look at her. 

“I've had an idea– well really it's Y/n's idea it's completely brilliant.” Hermione gestures towards you as she raises her voice slightly so she may be heard over the commotion.

Harry stares at you, inquisitive yet impatient so you decide speak quickly. “It doesn't matter if we find the Hocrux unless we can destroy it.” You say.

“You destroyed Tom Riddle's diary with the Basilisk fang, right?” You question rhetorically but Harry nods regardless.

“Well, Hermione and I think we know where we might find one.” You add vaguely, a precaution against prying ears.

“Okay, fine– but take this” Harry seems only half present in the conversation now, he is not even looking at you as he retrieves the Marauder's Map from his pocket.

You grab the bit of parchment, admittedly perplexed by his response. “That way you can find me when you get back.” Harry explains and you nod.

The Chosen One turns to continue up the stairs without looking back, Ron blindly trails after him, it seems asking Harry questions now will only slow them down.

“Where are you two going?” Hermione on the other hand cannot contain her curiosity.

“Ravenclaw Common Room. We've got to start somewhere.” He explains, practically shouting above the clamour.

As Ron and Harry dissapear into the crowd 

Hermione quickly intertwines your hand with her own, dragging you up the stairs in the opposite direction. “Come on, this way.”

–

The girl's lavatory remained vacant as you both made your way down the long winding slope, a pile of something soft breaks your harsh landing, in the darkness you are not able to make out what it might be.

The chamber was dark, every surface caked with dust, you can feel it in your lungs everytime you took a breath. No doubt the chambers has been left entirely untouched since the event all those years ago. 

Every step you took echoed towards the void, the faint noise of critters scampering on the walls was enough to unsettle you.

“Lumos.” Hermione says with her wand in hand, illuminating your path. It was only then you had the sense to do the same with your own.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You finally get to the entrance but only to realize it is locked, intricate stone carvings of serpents mounted proudly on the door; a warning. 

You inspect it carefully, but there is no visible keyhole any clues of how to unlock it.

Hermione bravely places her hands upon it, a feeble attempt to pry the heavy door open, but it is no use.

She sighs, exasperated.

“Any ideas?” Hermione looks to you, desperate.

You remained silent as you deliberated, your first instinct was to enter with force, throw a curse large enough to hopefully break apart the stone door atleast enough for the both of you to fit through.

That plan does not come without it's risks, you set it aside for now.

You begin considering other solutions, and naturally your mind involuntarily turns to the events surrounding the chamber of secrets all those years ago, your second year at Hogwarts. 

The perpetual anxiety that plagued you, and every other student in the castle. Everyday, the Basilisk claimed a new victim and for several weeks, you were only allowed to wonder who it might choose next.

You distinctly recall the way Draco reacted to it all, how he insisted on learning parseltongue so he could gain control of the beast. Feeding into the widespread fear that Harry was the true heir of Slytherin. That he would target him next if he did not learn how to defend himself.

Countless nights where your best friend would stay up memorizing phrases in parseltongue, certain that he would then gain the ability to control the beast if it ever came after him.

Whether he was driven by jealousy or plain and simple fear is unclear, but Draco's relentless efforts, as a result, forcefully imprinted the unfamiliar dialect into your vocabulary. 

Although, time certainly did it's duty, and now you are only able to recall certain words. 

You wonder if it will perhaps still be enough to possibly unlock the door to the chamber.

“I have an idea, but it might not work.” You reply, although entirely lacking confidence.

Hermione doesn't share your doubts, she nods assuredly eventhough she has no notion of what you intend to do. “Go on then.”

You speak the words ‘door’, ‘snake’, and ‘open’ in parseltongue. With your limited knowledge, you cannot hope to form a complete sentence, but luckily enough, the chamber unlocks. The heavy door opens, wide and eerily inviting.

Hermione stares at you wide-eyed in bewilderment. “How–” She tries but you only start forward towards the door.

“Long story– if we survive this I'll tell you all about it.” You quip as you made way for Hermione to step inside before you.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

As it seems your streak of luck has yet to wear off as you succeed in extracting the Basilisk fang. It was just as Hermione said, all flesh has rotted away, now what was left of the beast was only it's skeleton, set to fossilise with time.

The both of you stood unmoving, hovering over the Hufflepuff cup, readying yourselves for the next step. “You do it.” You extend your arm so Hermione may grab the fang but she quickly shakes her head in protest. 

“No, I can't.” She admits but your gaze doesn't falter, courteous and true, you grab her hand.

“Yes, you can.” You state, lightly forcing the fang into her grasp, and she remains hesitant but accepts it anyway.

“I'll be right here if anything happens.” You reassure with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Hermione moves to crouch next to the cup and you do the same, holding it in place.

Your girlfriend glances at you a last time for reassurance and you can only nod. As Hermione lifts her arm with the Basilisk fang in hand, you hold your breath.

In an instant she brings her arm straight down, the tip of the sharp tooth proved sturdy enough to pierce through the ancient relic. The Hufflepuff Cup begins spinning uncontrollably, as if trying to escape the cause of its injury.

Then, the room awakens, the body of water once still on either sides of the pathway you stood suddenly rises in anger. 

The water continues to twist and shape itself into a horrifying sight, the same vision of Voldermort that tormented you when you destroyed the locket.

You grab Hermione's hand, pulling her away from danger, but the being follows you until there was nowhere else to run, you fish out your wand from your pocket but before you can attempt anything, water crashes down onto the both of you. 

You are soaked and breathless, but the room was asleep once more. It is over.

Another Horcrux is destroyed, and air sharply fills your lungs. “You did it.” You state with true relief and Hermione doesn't respond, not with words. 

In one large stride she is directly infront if you, her lips against yours. The kiss shocks your entire system. Open-mouthed, and aguished. Her hand is firmly against the nape of your neck, Hermione melts within your embrace and you react all the same. Before you can protest or question further, your girlfriend pulls away. 

You stare at her, dazed and almost in a trance, consumed in everything and all Hermione. You nearly fail to notice the fact that she was removing her shoes, and then her jacket.

“What are you doing?” You remain staring at her, now with a hint of amusement, but mainly awe.

“We might die today.” Hermione states plainly, the nature of her words do not match her tone.

You observed as she removed her top, now leaving her in only her jeans and bra. She approaches you again, her hands slipping underneath your shirt, warm touch against damp skin makes you shiver in anticipation.

Then you feel her soft lips against the shell of your ear, and soon your jaw. “When I take my last breath I want to remember what it feels like to be with you.. all of you.” Hermione utters, her hands already moving to undo your belt.

[dsireland86]

hi love! could you maybe do something with matty? maybe something super fluffy, like you’re on tour with them and the guys are making fun of him for being all soft and cutesy towards you lol or anything you want!!! ❤️❤️❤️

Hi love!!! The sweet side of Matt is something I really, really like :) Thank you for the request.

Too Sweet, Too Soft

@philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @theanarchymuse95 @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @fadingintothegrey @an0mallly @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey

"Pink or red? Which does she like more?" Matt stood in the flower section of the grocery store for at least five minutes, trying to decide which set of roses to get you. He wanted you to know how much he appreciated you and all the hard work and dedication you put into your work and the band. "Actually, y/n hates flowers," Folio reminded Matt, patting him on the shoulder as he walked by. "No, she doesn't!" He yelled back at Folio. But the more Matt thought about it, Folio was right. Shit! Matt shoved the flowers back into the holders, turning on his heels and walking away, empty handed.

"What's that?" "Better question is why are you reading Harry Potter?" You scowled at him rolling your eyes. Matt gave you a wink, instantly turning your frown upside down. "I guess we can't all be perfect," he sighed, sitting down on the couch, right up next to you. It wasn't unusual. When it came to you and Matt, personal space wasn't really a thing. Your shoulders touched, the friction sparking a feeling you were used to feeling whenever Matt was near you. It made you feel like you were in high school again, the way the butterflies tickled your tummy. "Are you going to open the bag?" "I don't know. It depends on what's in it." Matt stared at you, blinking, and his expression blank. "Isn't that the whole point? Open it to find out what's in it?" "Yeah, I guess so," you agree, reaching for the bag and laughing from how confused you had just made him.

Matt's hand rested on your knee, and although you thought nothing of it, it didn't go unnoticed by the others. They loved giving Matt a hard time when it came to how differently he treated you and acted around you compared to everyone else. "Matt, give y/n some space," Nicholas chided once he climbed up into the bus. "Seriously, or just sit in her lap. You'd probably be more comfortable," Jolly teased. "Fuck both of you," Matt retorted, pulling his hat down lower to cover his embarrassment. Jolly and Nick cackled as they went to the back of the bus, leaving you and Matt alone again. "You can sit in my lap if you really want to, Matty," you said, jokingly, nudging his shoulder. "Shut-up and just open the freaking bag all ready, for god's sake." You do, and instantly, a huge grin sweeps over your face. At first, you don't know what to say as you begin taking out the items; two cans of Celsius, Salt and Vinegar chips, Twix, Aloe water and seaweed. But the main thing that caught your eye was the pile of lose wildflowers: daisies, dandelions, wild violets, and a few others you couldn't name, laying at the bottom of the bag. You reached in and grabbed a handful, cupping them carefully in you hands. "Matt," you gushed, looking up at him. He smiled at you, running a finger down the side of your cheek. "I remembered you're not a fan of flowers, but I wanted to give you something that made you feel special. I found them in the grass behind the venue." Matt shrugged, looking away just in case you were disappointed. But you weren't; not at all. You leaned over and kissed his cheek, lingering there a little longer than you meant to. Matt turned his head some, and his lips brushed against yours, making you smile. Matt huffed a small laugh, sitting back.

"Oh my god you two, get a room," Noah groaned, interrupting your private moment. You chuckled, sitting back, looking through the pile of small flowers filling your hands. "Y/N, I thought you didn't like flowers." Noah stood overtop you, peering down at the mixture of flowers you kept protected in your hands. "I don't like store bought flowers. But these are different. I love these!" You looked over at Matt, noticing the way he was staring at you. It wasn't how he normally looked at you, no, there was something deeper, something serious. You sat back, sliding closer to him, snuggling into the crook of his arm and resting your head against his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Matt asked, surprised. You smiled, glancing up at him. "I don't know. I just want to be near you. As close as i can be, right now. Is that okay?" You pleaded with him, your eyes giving him a full on puppy dog plea. "Hell yeah it's okay," Matt agreed, huffing a small laugh again. His arm came down over your shoulder, wrapping around your chest. "It's more than okay." His light kiss to your forehead made you dizzy.

"So, does this mean the two of you are a thing?" Nicholas implored. "Please say you are? If I have to hear Matt say your name in his sleep one more time, I will fucking loose it," Noah groaned again. You and Matt laughed, looking at one another. You were thinking it wouldn't be the worst idea you ever had, giving this thing between you and Matt a chance. "I mean, I'm game if you are," you decided, caressing his cheek and feeling the weight of it against your hand. "Absolutely, one thousand percent," Matt agreed, squeezing you into him. "Finally," Jolly, Noah, and Nick all groaned and sighed, heading off the bus. "Hopefully this means I don't have to share a hotel room with Matt anymore," Noah pointed out, being the first one to leave the bus. "Yeah, no kidding and that he'll quit his griping and groaning when he sees y/n talking to another guy." "I don't think that will ever stop. Matt's possessive; we all know that." Jolly was the last to leave, making the air around y/n and Matt silent.

"You really do that? Complaining and getting jealous when another guy is talking to me?" You turn and look at Matt, seeing the embarrassment on his face. You take him in you hands, forcing him to look at you. "Yeah, sometimes. I just think you deserve so much better than the guys you talk to or talk to you." Matt's confession was sweet, but genuine. Smiling, you leaned in and kissed him softly, feeling the butterflies come alive at the simple gesture. But the way Matt kissed you back was unlike anything you'd ever experienced. It was passionate, almost as if he was handing over part of him to you. Maybe he was. Maybe you were too. Committed. Maybe you two were seriously committed to this. "And you think you're what I deserve?" You searched Matt's soft brown eyes for his answer and found it in the way he looked away from you. "No. I don't deserve you. You're way out of my league."

You can't help but grin as you lay your head down on Matt's chest, listening to the sound of his pounding heart beat. Taking his hand in yours and lacing your fingers together, you breathe in deeply and rest comfortably against him. "Well, lucky for you Matt Dierkes, you're not out of mine. You're everything I've wanted and more. You're too sweet, too soft, but only just for me, and that makes me feel like the luckiest and most special girl in the world." Matt was speechless. But instead of trying to make it all make sense at the moment, he went with it, pulling you close to his side, vowing to you both that from that day forward, protecting and loving you would be his main priority. This was it; this was what had been missing, and it had been right in front of him all along. 

[drawlfoy]

the benefits of journaling p.1

pairing: diary!tom riddle x ravenclaw!reader

summary: you pick up an unassuming journal in diagon alley during an antiques sale without knowing that it's actually a part of a late dark lord's soul. sort of no voldy AU, set in the golden trio era where voldemort was defeated in the first war and thus harry has parents still.

warnings: she/her pronouns/reader that stays in the girl's dorms, language, eventual discussion of murder and whatnot but not yet!, you being a little femcel-aligned/obsessed, tom being awkward because he's been stuck in a diary without talking to anyone for 50 years, i fumble around trying to explain how to brew potions after taking only one semester of high school biology

please note that this tom riddle is definitely not the same tom riddle that dumbledore describes in canon. i read a few meta posts that rewired my brain and now my tom riddle is ~complicated~ and not just evil and murdery for the plot. so just keep that in mind lol

a/n: whoa is this....something other than draco on this blog? yes. im suffering right now and needed to get this out. hopefully i can get this longfic completed within 2-3 parts! i'm not using my usual taglist because i don't know how many of my draco readers want this

wc: 10k

The day you unknowingly bought a part of the late Lord Voldemort’s soul was like any other. It was overcast, the thick clouds a somber, humid ceiling hanging above you and Lucy as you made your way through the annual antiques sale in a dusty corner of Diagon Alley.

“Y/N,” said your companion for the day—a slight, freckled witch with mushroom brown waves and a perpetual smile etched into her mouth. “Look. This is so you.”

You looked up from the bookshelves of one of the stands. It took you a moment to see what she was holding, but once it came into focus, you rolled your eyes. “Oh, sod off. Not funny.” 

Lucy just cackled, tossing the crudely carved wooden snake back onto the pile wearing a wicked grin. 

The world is cruel in that you can scream once when you see Draco Malfoy’s pet ball python in third year and no one ever lets you forget it. 

You turned away from Lucy, looking back to the old bookshelf that had been moved onto the cobbled street. The rich mahogany wood was close to buckling under the weight of all the tomes stacked haphazardly atop each other—far more than would be advisable. 

But it wasn’t just the furniture that caught your eye. No, it was the glimpse of a black spine on the bottom, partially hidden away by an ancient encyclopedia on arithmancy. 

You knelt, carefully arranging your robes so that they wouldn’t pick up dust from the street. You narrowly managed to avoid sending all the books on top tumbling into the street by slowly sliding it out from under the stack.

An unimpressively sized black journal laid in your hand, looking entirely unassuming and incredibly boring. 

You frowned. A quick flip-through confirmed that it was in fact a journal—and that there was nothing written in it. 

Why would someone try to sell an unused journal at an antiques market? You wondered, turning it over in your hand. Though its pages appeared entirely pristine, you could see some wear on the cover. There were no markings detailing when it had been manufactured.

It could very well have been an antique journal, you conceded. But why anyone would want an empty journal made years ago was beyond you.

You went to set the journal back onto the stack, getting so far as to nearly loosen your grip and let it drop from your fingers, when—

You had to buy this journal. 

You weren’t sure why, or how. You just knew that this journal was coming home with you today, even if it was the least interesting thing you could’ve come across in your shopping trip.

“What’s that?” asked Lucy, appearing at your side and gently taking the journal from you. 

“Just an empty journal, I think,” you answered, staring blankly at it in her hands. 

“You know we can just get a normal new one at the bookstore, right?” 

“Well, I like this one,” you heard yourself say. “It has…character.”

“Character.” She snorted, holding it up next to her face. “This is the most bland looking thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

“Consider yourself blind, then. Surely they’ll charge you twice the cost for this since it’s allegedly ‘vintage’.” Lucy made liberal use of air quotes. “You sure you don’t want to stop by the bookstore before we go? It’ll be on our way.”

“No, it’s really fine,” you said, taking it back into your hands, “I really like this one for some reason. I don’t know. There’s just something about it.”

Lucy tilted her head, giving it one last odd look. “Whatever you say. You go check out, then. Mum’s going to expect me back soon and the queue looks a bit long.” 

The journal sat in your bag for the remainder of the summer, nearly forgotten as you went about your day. You opened it for the first time to examine it on August 31st, just a day before you were off to begin your 6th year.

There was writing that you hadn’t noticed before—thin, elegant script on the inside of the cover in black lettering. A simple “Property of Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

You stared, letting your finger trace gently across the parchment. There was a slight indentation at the lower swoop of the last letter “L”, like whoever had written it had pressed a little too hard with his quill. 

“Tom Marvolo Riddle,” you whispered, trying the syllables out on your tongue. You’d never heard of any wizard named that before. You wondered how long it had been since those words had been written. You wondered if Tom Marvolo Riddle was still alive, and if he was, why he saw it fit to mark his property and then swiftly lose its custody to an antiques dealer. 

Oh well. Sucks to suck, you thought dryly as you took the quill that you’d been using to finish updating your calendar and lifted it over the parchment. Whatever happened to the crusty old dinosaur that hadn’t even been able to make one full entry into his own journal before croaking or whatever was none of your business.

You’d barely started out how you imagined a normal person would begin a diary—a date, August 31st—when it suddenly became clear why this Tom fellow had been unable to leave a lasting mark. 

The ink hadn’t even begun to dry before it sank into the pages, disappearing in a blink of an eye.

“What the fuck,” you mumbled, dumbstruck. You dipped your quill in ink once again and drew a series of short slashes across the first page, using more ink than was strictly necessary.

In a moment it was as if they had never been there.

WHAT??? You wrote mindlessly in the freshly blank page as your mind spun. What kind of magic was this? And what was the point? 

No wonder you’d been drawn to it. It was probably dripping in all sorts of charms. Maybe the combination had been unintentionally alluring to particular passerbys. 

Before you could think any further, the clean page transformed again, but not at your hand.

Hello.

The word assembled letter by letter, as if a ghost was writing it over your shoulder. 

It seems you've found my journal.

You stared. A journal that could write back to you. Huh. A smile caught on your lips as you became glad after all that you’d chosen this one over a plain bookstore version. 

How old are you? You wrote, resting your chin in your palm as you waited for a response as to whether or not your new acquisition actually belonged at the antiques market. 

Sixteen.

You frowned. That was hardly vintage.

This was made sixteen years ago?

The response appeared quickly..

No. I'm sixteen.

Yeah. You were made sixteen years ago.

This time, the journal seemed to hem and haw at the response.

What year is it? Was the final answer that appeared.

What year do you think?

1943. 

A little off. you wrote impishly.

Oh really?

Just a smidge.

Define a smidge, please. 

What does it matter to you?

This seemed to stump the journal. 

May I ask who I have the pleasure of speaking with?

You may not. Then, because you had nothing better to do, you dipped your quill and drew out a Tic-Tac-Toe board, placing an X in the middle.

The board disappeared into the page, and for a moment you wondered if you’d annoyed your magical journal too much. But then it reappeared, this time with an O in the middle.

You huffed. When you took too long to respond, another line appeared below. 

I'm Tom. Tom Riddle.

You stared at the letters, the implications sinking in. If the journal had belonged to Tom—who was presumably a real person at some point in his life—then that would mean…which meant…

In seconds you’d slammed the journal shut and had your wand out, poking at the binding and being careful to avoid touching it again with your bare hands. Stupid, stupid you, buying something that had so clearly been engineered to lure you in, just like it probably had done to Tom back in the 40s. 

The antique market rarely had issues with unknowingly cursed objects. They were allegedly thoroughly vetted by the stand officials to ensure that something like this didn’t happen. But perhaps this one had fallen through the cracks.

There was nothing you could do for now except to wrap the journal in a blanket and throw it into your suitcase. As a muggleborn, there was going to be no real magic for you until tomorrow on the train. 

Better to investigate then, you decided firmly. With access to spellwork, you could at least cast protective wards around yourself and try to detect what exactly was wrong with it the next time you touched it. 

Yes, you thought. That cannot possibly go wrong.

~

“Y/N!” 

“Sorry, what was that?” You blearily blinked in the direction of Lucy and Ishan, both sitting there with an expectant look on their faces. 

“I was saying that I’m pretty sure that Parkinson and Malfoy are actually together this time,” said Lucy, frowning. “I just came from the loo and his head was in her lap. Revolting, to be entirely honest. I can’t believe I had to see that with my own eyes. But whatever. Are you feeling alright? You keep spacing out.”

“I’m fine.” You pulled the fabric of your robe over your wrist so you could gently scrub at your eyes. “Just—tough night last night. I barely slept.”

“I totally get that,” mused Lucy, nodding as her gaze fixed itself on the window. “I can normally never get to sleep the night before we leave. I just get so excited for the new year.”

You smiled. “Yeah.” 

But that hadn’t been your problem. Despite the creepy journal encounter that had left you with your mind spinning, you’d fallen asleep deeply the moment you’d gotten into bed. The issue had been staying asleep after all the dreams you’d had. 

You rarely dreamt. When you did and remembered it the next day, it was normally nonsensical and had to do with forgotten final exams or missing a lecture. But last night…last night had been different.

There was a boy. His hair was dark and his face cast mostly in shadow, his voice a tenor that seemed typical to boys in your year. He hadn’t been speaking anything you’d understood, though. The most peculiar, bone-chilling hissing noises came from his mouth as he bowed his head leaned over a vaguely familiar sink. 

Even though he wouldn’t acknowledge you, it was as if a channel had been opened between you two, like you could feel his emotions as phantoms within you. 

Franticness. Vindictiveness. A thirst for vengeance beyond anything you’d ever felt before.

You sat watching this mysterious dark haired boy from the cobbled floor, feeling the wetness on the stones seep into your robes, climbing up and up until it soaked your skin. 

At precisely 4 in the morning, you’d shot awake so distressed that you hadn’t slept a wink after. Needless to say, you were hardly what you’d consider to be well-rested.

The remainder of the train ride and the welcoming feast went on without a hitch. You managed to keep yourself from falling asleep at dinner and even joined in on the cheering for new Ravenclaws. The first years seemed to look younger and younger every year, you noted dully as you cut into the roast on your plate. It was making you feel awfully old.

Sixth year was supposed to be exciting—the year of N.E.W.T.S and figuring out what you’d concentrate in during your final year and getting to go to Hogsmeade without permission. But you hadn’t quite figured out what it was that you wanted to study. Being a muggleborn from a modest upbringing meant that you couldn’t be too frivolous. There was no amateur art or sports or celebrity career in your future. You couldn’t even count on marrying well—or marrying at all, in fact. None of your halfblood or pureblood friends seemed to understand that your family hadn’t already had an engagement arranged for you from the moment you were born. It was hard to look forward to a life that was so cloaked in uncertainty. 

That being said, you had more immediate concerns to attend to. Though the journal was tucked safely away in one of your suitcases far away in the Ravenclaw Tower, you couldn’t help but feel its presence. You were itching to get back to your dorm so you could steal away into a corner and begin to inspect it. 

Dumbledore finally dismissed the students after a rather uninspiring speech about the importance of dreaming big and staying true to yourself. You all but ran up the stairs, rushing to unpack all of your things.

“Merlin,” noted Padma from her desk. “That excited to move in?”

“I just want to go to bed,” you said, relishing the feeling of casting a spell to quickly stow away your skirts and button ups into your dresser. “Long day.”

“And even longer tomorrow.” Lucy was sitting at her desk, her feet crossed at the ankles. She’d somehow unpacked even quicker than you. “Does everyone have their finalized timetable for the term?”

“I’ve got Potions with Slughorn and Transfiguration with McGonagall on Mondays and Thursdays,” you began, unzipping your last bag and flicking your wand to send your school supplies to your desk. “Divination with Trelawney, Arithmancy with Vector, and Runes with Babbling on Tuesdays and Fridays. And of course the extended lab section on Wednesday for Potions.”

“Which lab section?”

“Morning,” you said. The diary was levitating from your wand now, looking unassuming and very innocent under the golden light of your dorm room. “You?”

“Same,” said Lucy, grinning. “I can’t believe you’re taking N.E.W.T level Divination. Do you hate yourself?”

“It was that or History of Magic.”

She nodded emphatically, turning back to make a marking in her planner.

With the dorm settled into a comfortable silence, you brandished your wand again, peering at the diary in front of you. 

There was nothing outwardly sinister about it. When you’d gone over to Ishan’s manor over Easter break last year, he’d shown you some of the (potentially unlawful) darker artifacts that his old pureblood family had in possession. They’d felt dark. This journal didn’t have that syrupy thick feel around it. Its aura felt sparkly, magnetic. Surely it couldn’t have been dark magic. Because all dark magic felt dark, right?

You gulped. You wouldn’t touch it with your bare hands anymore, you reasoned. Just spellwork and using the tip of your wand to maneuver it. Just in case.

Your 5 years of Hogwarts education had left you sorely deficient in useful diagnostic spells, so you dug around in one of your Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks from previous years and found a section on spells to examine magical objects. 

Revelo you whispered, feeling the slight jolt of magic as the charm left your wand. 

Nothing, It didn’t even glow blue, a sign of magically active objects. 

Huh. 

You frowned. The slightly more obscure spell you’d heard Snape use once on a student’s suspiciously well-written essay didn’t yield anything either. 

“Whatcha doing?’

You nearly screamed, clutching your wand to your chest. 

Lucy grinned wickedly as she leaned over your shoulder and reached for your journal. “Ooh, is this that thing you bought at—”

“Don’t touch!” You quickly batted her hand away. 

“Sheesh,” said Lucy. “Chill. I wasn’t going to read it or anything. I was just wondering why you were waving your wand at your journal. Secrecy spells?”

“No,” you said. Your heart was racing, “Er—not quite. I actually haven’t written in it, you see,”

“Oh?” Lucy’s brows furrowed in confusion, “Explain the theatrics then?”

A half-baked lie formed at your lips that was about to spill when you stopped yourself. Lucy was your friend. She’d been your best friend since the moment you’d met on the Hogwarts Express during first year. There was no reason to lie.

“It’s so weird!” You motioned towards the diary with your wand. “I buy this, right, because I feel this weird draw to it. And I take it home and try to write in it, and suddenly the book starts writing back.”

“A self-writing journal?” 

“Not quite. Maybe. Maybe not, I’m not sure. It’s just—something’s not totally right about it, but I can’t tell if it’s dangerous or not.”

Lucy gave a good natured snort. “A journal? Dangerous? And from old Linda’s stand? Please. I see her going through everything in her inventory. The poor shopboy in charge of vetting items has to answer to her if he slips up. There’s no way anything actually powerful slipped onto the stacks.” 

You stuck the tip of your wand under the cover and carefully pried it open, pointing at the lettering on the inside. 

“Tom Marvolo Riddle?” She frowned. “Am I supposed to know that name?”

“I don’t know,” you responded at the swooping lettering. “But the journal talked back like it was Tom. Like, it introduced itself as Tom and said that it was 1943. And it acted like an….I don’t know. It was like it was a real person talking to me.”

“Huh.” You could see the gears slowly turning in Lucy’s head,

“Do you know any detection or diagnostic spells?” you asked. “I tried all the ones that we’ve learned so far and it doesn’t even detect magic. But it has to be cursed, right? If the last owner of this diary got sucked into it?”

Lucy was just beginning to open her mouth when ink began to appear.

It is rather rude to be casting all sorts of spells in my direction without warning.

You jumped. “Jesus Christ. Do you see that?”

“Yeah, I do,” said Lucy, but her eyes were crinkled. “Girl. Don’t worry. If it was dangerous, you’d probably know by now. You’ve had it around you for, what, two months? And you’ve already touched it. It doesn’t feel dark. I don’t think there are any slow burning curses that gradually trap you inside an object. If you’re still alright, you’ll probably stay that way. Maybe you should just ask Tom how he got there?”

“If I start disappearing, do try to keep me in this plane.”

“Noted.”

Nervously, you dipped a quill on your desk into an inkwell, waiting for a moment before thinking up how to word your request. In the meantime, a drop of ink fell to the page. It was quickly swallowed up by the parchment.

Sorry you began. Just wanted to make sure you weren't going to trap me in there with you or something

An understandable concern

“Just ask him the bloody question,” said Lucy, hitting your shoulder. “I want to go to bed.” 

“Right, right.” 

If you'd like me to stop with the spells, maybe you could tell me how you ended up in here in the first place

“Nice,” said Lucy. She was nodding thoughtfully. “Very smooth.” 

It took a long time for Tom’s answer to appear despite the fact that your writing had almost instantly disappeared. Finally, black ink began to rise. 

It was an accident. Nothing that can be replicated by you, however. There's no need to worry. I fooled around with the wrong book in the school library.

“School library?” Lucy leaned closer so that the locks of her hair dangled over your shoulder. “Ask him if he went to Hogwarts.”

Hogwarts? You wrote quickly. 

Yes.

In your sixth year?

Yes.

“Ooh.” Lucy hit your shoulder. “Maybe you can use this to get comfortable talking to boys, Y/N.”

You scoffed, blushing a hot red. “Excuse me! I’ve told you. I’m too busy for that.”

“Uh huh.” She twirled a piece of her hair around her finger. “Well, I think you should just keep it. It’s harmless. Like I said, it’s from one of the tamest parts of Diagon Alley. And you wouldn’t be able to get anything genuinely dark into Hogwarts. The wards would’ve detected it. Have fun with it.”

“Have fun with it?”

Lucy shrugged, bouncing once as she settled down on her bed. “I dunno. Think about it. I think a responding diary could be fun. Let’s say I’m not around to gossip one day. You have another outlet. Or maybe you could use him to help you study or something. Really, the possibilities are endless.” 

“True.” You mulled over the thought as you let your wand sit on its stand on your desk. Tentatively you grasped the soft leather of the journal and pulled it nearer to you. Tom was waiting for your response, after all. 

Me too you wrote.

And you still won't tell me your name?

“Do you think it’s a bad idea to tell him my name?” you asked Lucy, whipping around.

She set down her book and shook her head. “What’s he gonna do with it? He’s stuck in there.” 

Y/N. 

A splotch of black appeared on the other end, but it was quickly crossed out. 

How did you find me?

Antiques sale in Diagon Alley

I'm an antique?

Given that 1943 was over 50 years ago, yes

Nothing from Tom.

Is that not what you expected? You added. 

I'm not sure

Just as you were about to close the journal and head to bed, Tom wrote again.

And how are you liking your time at Hogwarts?

It's nice. Fall term starts tomorrow. 

You thought about leaving it there, but for some reason the words began to spill out of you. 

It does feel weird being so close to graduating, though. I don’t know quite what it is that I want to do yet.

Oh? But surely you must have some idea.

You pressed the end of your quill to your lips, debating whether or not to share it with this mysterious Tom. In the end, Lucy’s previous comment was what made the scales tip. What did it matter? Tom wasn’t going to tell anyone.

I would really like to go for a cursebreaking mastery abroad, but that hinges on what happens in my N.E.W.Ts this year. I need an O in Potions. 

I was taking N.E.W.T Potions at the time that I was trapped, Tom wrote. Perhaps I can be of assistance.

I can’t ask that of you.

Please do. It’s terribly boring being all alone in here.

You swallowed, watching the ink slowly sink back into nothing. 

What do you mean? What’s it like being trapped?

It took a while for a response to form.

Quiet. You’re the first visitor I’ve ever had. I’m still in Hogwarts, technically, but there’s no one else here. 

I’m sorry you found yourself writing before you could stop yourself. That sounds very lonely.

I don’t mind being lonely. It does get a bit dull, though. 

“Luce,” you said, leaning over the back of your desk chair. “He just offered to help me with Potions.” 

“See? Useful.” 

I've got to go to bed now. First day of classes and whatnot. 

Best of luck

Can you sleep where you are?

I don’t need to but I can

The words chilled you somewhat, but you pushed the feeling away. 

Well, goodnight you wrote. 

Goodnight

~

How were classes?

The ink appeared the moment you flipped open the journal. It was already two weeks into term, and you’d written to Tom nearly every night. You were curled up in bed, your blankets pulled heavy around your lap and your pajamas clean and smelling of lavender. A mug of tea lay steaming on your bedside table, its tendrils barely visible in the dim golden light of the candle you’d lit. 

As expected you wrote, yawning. How was your day?

Oh, you know. Thrilling.

You snorted.

“What are you giggling about?” Lucy’s voice snapped you back into reality. You looked up to see her peeking over the textbook in her lap, a smirk etched deeply into her lips. 

“Nothing,” you said quickly, but the way you slammed the journal shut gave it away.

“Talking to your fake boyfriend, huh?” teased Lucy. 

“I’m not even going to answer that.” You rolled your eyes. “He’s a fucking journal. It’s not like he’s real.”

“Didn’t he say he was trapped in there?”

You huffed. “I guess. He seems to have accepted his position in life, though. It’s not like he’s begging for help.” 

“No,” agreed Lucy. “But just think about it. What if you did manage to get him out? How romantic would that be?”

“Oh my god, shut up!” 

Lucy ducked away from the pillow you lobbed in her direction, cackling maniacally all the way. 

There you are. I thought I’d bored you. 

The words reappeared within seconds of you reopening the journal. You tried to smother the way your lips turned upwards at the sight. 

Sorry you wrote back, hoping that Lucy was sufficiently distracted with her textbook and would give you a rest for the night. A friend wanted to talk.

Does this friend know about me?

You held your quill to your lips for a moment before you wrote back.

Yes. She loves to tease over how much time I spend writing to you 

I take it she doesn’t understand

Quite the contrary. She’s the one who encouraged me to write to you in the first place, in fact.

How so?

Something about how it would be nice to be able to tell my secrets to someone who could never tell anyone else

Tom’s response took a bit longer to appear this time around. 

Oh? Any you’d like to share now?

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked at the drying ink. 

You first.

For a minute, you thought that maybe Tom had disappeared. The parchment remained blank and clean. Maybe he’d gotten bored with you and had gone off to…whatever he did in his empty version of Hogwarts. 

Then the lettering appeared again. 

I used to have a pet snake when I was a child. I was an orphan, you see, and the other children thought that I was too strange to play with. I was terribly lonely. The matron took us to the beach once, and I found this little grass snake in the weeds. I stuck it in my pocket and took it back to the orphanage with me. 

You lived in a muggle orphanage? 

Yes. Obviously. Once I was amongst magicfolk, people did find me quite charming. 

Why’d you pick a snake?

I liked having someone—or something, I suppose—to talk to. 

You stared as the ink sunk back into nothing. Talk. Snakes. Talking?

Are you a Parselmouth? 

I’ve already given a secret Tom wrote. Your turn. 

Will you answer if I give you one?

That’s only fair. 

Secrets—you barely had those. You’d grown up sharing nearly everything with Lucy since you’d been paired up in first year Charms class. 

Not losing your nerve, are you?

I’m just thinking you quickly wrote back. I don’t have many secrets. 

Surely you do. 

This isn’t a very exciting secret. Heat rose to your cheeks as your quill scratched against the paper. But I haven’t told anyone this. 

Go on.

I can’t tell anyone this because they’ll think I’m annoying. I do really well in classes. But I feel like I’m never going to be smart enough. It seems like nothing that I ever do will be enough to stand out 

I understand more than you know

What do you mean?

I was sorted into Slytherin. Coming from such a modest background meant that I had to prove that I was worth the space I was taking up 

A swell of…something rose in you as you stared down at the paper. You tried to imagine this mysterious Tom in the familiar green robes that you saw every day in Potions, scrunching his nose up over a book and studying hard. All alone—motivated by the knowledge that no one was rooting for his success—knowing that there was no name he could depend on to cover even one misstep—

You blinked. Whoa. That was some serious projection. 

I can’t really tell this to anyone else. All of my friends come from influential pureblood families, so they just don’t get why I don’t get to make mistakes or slip up. They think I’m so uptight

Exactly. They all have safety nets. The grades, the house points, the prefect badges—those are all just surface level. It’s your name that gets you anywhere important 

“You’re looking mighty serious over there,” said Lucy from over her textbook. “Trouble in paradise?”

You laughed tightly. “Er, no. Just talking.” 

“Uh huh.”

I always feel like it’s evidence that I don’t belong when I don’t immediately understand something in class you add into the journal. To your horror, tears started pricking at your eyes. None of your friends were muggleborns. You’d never been able to voice these things out loud—or on paper, in this case. Writing it all out seemed so sad now. Like today in Runes. It took me longer than usual to understand a translation technique for this ridiculous slate from the Middle Ages. I had to talk myself down from believing that I’m faking it and that everyone else doesn’t even need to try

Is Babbling still there?

Yes. She’s still teaching 

She was already too old to be coherent when she was teaching me wrote Tom. Tell me, do you have to rennervate her throughout the lesson to keep her present?

She was old back then??? 

Ancient. 

I can’t believe she’s still alive. You chewed on your lip as you thought. She’s practically a fossil.

Do you think of me like that? Old?

Would it make you feel better if I said I considered you vintage? 

I’m wounded

“Fucking get to the library and start researching ways to pull that poor boy out of there,” said Lucy from her bed, “Or stop giggling like that. Merlin. You’re killing me. You’re practically twirling your hair.”

“Shut up!” Slowly, you opened the journal back up after slamming it closed.

Your friend again?

Yes you scribbled back. She’s teasing me again about how I should try to get you out of here. Which I’m assuming is impossible, since I’m doubtful you’re even a real person

I’m very real

Your blood cooled. 

Then why haven’t you asked me to get you out? 

A pause—just long enough for you to feel suspicious. 

I’ve gotten quite used to my little home in here wrote Tom finally. And forgive me if I believe it a bit forward to immediately demand the first person to which I speak to orchestrate my extraction. 

Extraction. Interesting word choice, you thought. 

How polite. Part of you was beginning to feel the slightest bit uneasy. And what would this so-called extraction entail? 

That I haven’t quite figured out yet. The response was instantaneous. Ever since we’ve met I’ve been returning to the library in hopes of finding an answer.

Which book trapped you in here?

Another pause. 

I sincerely doubt it’s still in print wrote Tom. It was a very dangerous book with dark, terrible magic. I had no business digging around in it. I paid the price dearly. 

He refused to elaborate.

You spent the entire weekend digging through the Restricted Section, paging through every book you could imagine that had anything to do with Tom’s situation.

Nothing. Nada. Zero. You tried every querying spell you could think of. You were desperate enough to recruit Madam Pince by telling her that you were writing a paper for a class and needed to find anything there was on getting yourself trapped in magical objects. What she did dig up was at best irrelevant—tales of ill-executed Animagi rituals that resulted in the wizard getting stuck in their animal form and reports of interactions with cursed objects sending the users into a different dimension, never to be heard from again. 

But as you were leaving the library on Sunday night, feeling downtrodden and profoundly disappointed, you saw something that caught your eye: the Alumni section. 

It was one of those things that you always passed by without another thought. No classwork required students to reference previous Hogwarts attendees. It existed largely to appease the old families by nodding to their longstanding presence in Hogwarts, and the only friends who you had ever seen in this part of the library were purebloods curious about their ancestry. As a muggleborn, this was predictably unrelatable. There’d been no person of interest waiting for you in the old, dusty books that were shoved neatly into chronological order, no long-lost ancestor or namesake. 

Not until now. 

The click of your oxfords against the dark hardwood echoed as you came to a stop in front of the stacks. Every yearbook was the color of that school year’s House Cup winner, and the one with 1943-1944 on the thin spine was a rich, loud red. It slid easily from the shelf—which was a relief, because occasionally older books required permission to handle and were thus unremovable—and settled gently in your hands. 

For a second you pondered leaving the aisle and finding a table to crack it open and savor the moment, but the thought of having to explain why you were looking at the 1943 class yearbook would be embarrassing. Doubly so if Lucy found you—she’d never let you hear the end of it. So, case closed. You’d open it here. 

Oh god. You swallowed and used the cuff of your free sleeve to wipe the bead of sweat that had formed on your forehead. This was a terrible idea—or was it? Maybe he wouldn’t be your type. Yes, maybe he’d look just like someone who annoyed you in class or he’d have poorly kept hair or he’d have a creepy smile. Then you could stop thinking about—that.

And that shouldn’t even matter! You squeezed your eyes shut to dispel the thought. It was all Lucy’s fault for teasing you so much about him being your sort-of-weird-ghost boyfriend—part of you was starting to pretend like that was real. And it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. It didn’t matter that no boy before had managed to make you this excited to talk to them. It didn’t matter that he got you like no one else in this castle seemed to. It didn’t, because as of present he was actually a journal and not a corporeal being.

In short, you reminded yourself harshly, you were checking this yearbook to verify that a Tom Marvolo Riddle did in fact exist and attended Hogwarts during the time period he claimed. That was it—nothing more. 

Nervously, you let the cover flip open and began to card through the thick pages. Moving pictures of entirely unfamiliar students greeted you, flashing past your eyes. First years, second years, third years, fourth years…

You paused before turning from the fifth year page to the sixth, overwhelmed with the thought that whatever you saw was going to change the way you saw your interactions with the diary. If he wasn’t there, you’d need to re-evaluate how safe this whole diary scenario was. You’d need to go back and reconsider if anything you’d heard from him was ever the actual truth. And if he was…

You swallowed. You couldn’t pretend like you hadn’t been imagining what he’d look like on nights that you struggled to fall asleep. There was never a face you could settle on. Whenever you’d spin up something in your mind’s eye, the features would shift and morph into something entirely different before you could enjoy it. 

But it didn’t matter—it couldn’t matter, because it was crazy that you’d even been fantasizing about a potentially make-believe boy who only existed in a worn diary. 

You turned the page, and Tom Marvolo Riddle stared right back at you.

Tom looked every bit of what you’d expect a Slytherin prefect to be like. Everything about him was neat, orderly, and intentional, from the tidy robes to the obediently shaped dark waves atop his head that looked tragically soft. The only thing out of place was a single piece of black hair, dangling temptingly in the middle of his forehead. 

His lips were drawn into a polite almost smile, his image almost entirely still save for the slight bob of his throat that repeated as the image replayed, over and over again. 

Tom was pretty—much prettier than you ever could’ve thought up on your own. He looked unreal, like he’d been sculpted by some higher being’s hand with the express purpose of being devastatingly ethereal. 

And he’d been talking to you. Connecting with you. And he was real. The weight of your satchel over your shoulder reminded you that he was right there. All it’d take was a quill and some ink to speak to him again. 

The picture had repeated its loop one final time before you closed the book shut and pushed it back onto the shelf, hearing the pounding of your heart the whole way.

When you wrote to him that night, you tried your best to keep yourself imagining how he’d look writing back. Would he smile when he saw that you’d opened the journal? Would he laugh at your (admittedly stupid) jokes? 

September turned into October which tilted into November with such speed that you could barely breathe. Time barreled ahead as classes sped up, assignments piled on, and each day became just another challenge to survive. 

Tom remained one of the few constants in your life, alongside Lucy and Ishan. It was concerning how much you’d come to confide in him, telling him things that you’d never dare to share with anyone else. You told him about the little accomplishments that you could never bring up to your friends, like Professor Snape insulting everyone’s potion except yours and what McGonagall wrote on your most recent paper, calling it one of the most well-researched essays she’d gotten from a N.E.W.T level student. You even told him how Lucy occasionally got on your nerves and how it made you feel like a bad friend. 

He was a good listener and an even better conversationalist. When he wasn’t being your confidant, he was more than happy to indulge any academic topics of interest. You spent hours going back and forth, debating the content of the news headlines that you’d tell him about each day. 

With time, the memory of Tom’s face and intimidatingly good looks faded to the back of your mind. You’d barred yourself from going back into the Alumni section in the library lest you felt inspired to crack open his yearbook again and remind yourself just how attractive your imaginary friend had been when he’d been alive. If you did that, then you’d start fantasizing about a future where you invented some sort of way to pull him out, and that was just silly. You had exams, and Tom didn’t seem particularly rushed in leaving his journal—or he’d at least come to accept that he’d never leave.

Despite this new normality you’d built around the strangeness of the journal, some things still felt tense. You’d grown comfortable with Tom—arguably more comfortable with him than nearly anyone else, save for maybe Lucy, since you couldn’t ever imagine opening up the journal and telling him all about the fact that it was your time of the month and detailing exactly how your cramps were making you feel—but there was this underlying sense of anticipation. For what exactly, you weren’t sure. You just knew that things couldn’t be like this forever. Something had to give. 

In the end, it was Professor Snape who started it. He’d looked down at your cauldron and said something about how your Draught of Living Death base was the most elementary thing he’d ever had the misfortune of laying his eyes upon and that you were lucky to even be allowed into the class, and something inside you broke. 

You’d tried so hard on that potion. You’d followed the instructions to a T. You’d diced everything evenly and stirred it with the precision of a muggle performing brain surgery. Potions had never been your best subject, and you tried to make up for it by trying harder than everyone else. Normally it worked, but N.E.W.T potions was something else.

Tom was taking longer than usual to respond to this particular soliloquy that night, a few letters surfacing before he scribbled them out.

I know this might seem scary he finally wrote. I’ll understand if this frightens you too much. But I think that I may be able to help. 

What do you mean, scary? Are you a mean tutor or something?

I mean that I can show you how to brew that Draught Tom replied. 

Show me?

If my research is correct, it’s possible that I can temporarily cross you over into my world. 

Your heart thudded, your hands suddenly clammy. 

“Lucy?” 

“Yeah, what’s up?” Lucy tossed her book onto her desk and turned to face you. “Oh no. Did something happen? You look awful.”

“Gee. Thanks.” You swallowed. “Er—sort of? I was writing to Tom about how crazy Potions class was today and he told me that he could help me. Like actually tutor me.”

“Is that not a good thing?” 

Your mouth was dry. “No. That’s not it. He means like, tutor me tutor me. In person. He says he can cross me over into his world temporarily.”

Lucy froze. 

“I have to say no, right?” It was so, so stupid that you were asking that. Of course you had to say no. There was no telling what he could do to you if you said yes. Maybe he was actually a demon that was attempting to possess you. Maybe he was going to eat your soul and use your body as a husk to feed on the other students and—

“I mean, probably not.” She thoughtfully pressed the top of her quill to her mouth. “Think about it. You guys have been in contact for months and nothing supernatural has happened. We already came to the conclusion that the journal isn’t dark magic because the wards would’ve kept it out.”

“But what if I get stuck with him? I haven’t been able to find anything about this type of magic before. I don’t know how it works.”

Lucy hummed. Then realization flickered across her features. “Hang on. I think I have something that might help.” 

She dug around in one of her desk drawers until she produced a small spool of half-used thread. It was golden in color but so thin it was nearly iridescent. 

“What’s that?” you asked, squinting at it. 

“It’s Invisible String,” said Lucy, already rolling it out and pulling it around your wrist. It was pleasantly warm against your skin, like it’d just been sitting out in the sun. As soon as it made contact with your body, it disappeared. “It used to be used for Ministry Employees who used Time Turners. Whoever is on the other end of the thread is able to pull the wearer back to this reality and this timeline. It’s very useful in avoiding nasty time related incidents. My dad took home a bunch of spools when Time Turners were officially outlawed. He taught me how to apparate with them since it can also work over long distances in the same reality—just in case I did something stupid.” 

“Wow,” you breathed, staring down at your wrist. There was nothing to stare at, of course. It was already gone. But it was an ingenious little contraption, probably charmed so many times with such obscure and rare spells that it would go for thousands of galleons if you tried to buy it yourself.

The perks of having a rich pureblood best friend, you supposed.

“As long as I’m holding the other end, I’ll be able to bring you back,” explained Lucy, holding the spool up demonstratively. “So, go for it. If that’s your only hold-up, I think you should go meet him. If anything, at least it’ll help your Potions grade.” 

You turned your attention back to the journal, worrying your lip for a second before you dipped your quill in the inkwell and wrote out Ok. 

“This is so exciting,” said Lucy from over your shoulder. “You have to tell me everything when you get back.”

“If I can come back.”

She dangled the spool in front of you. “I’ll make sure of that. If you’re not back by curfew, I’ll yank you back to this reality by myself.”

“Right.” Anxiety began to build in your middle, bubbling up until you were sure you were trembling. 

This might feel a bit uncomfortable was all Tom wrote before you were suddenly falling into a void.

When the inertia faded and light slowly bled back into your vision, you were sprawled on the floor of a Potions classroom that you’d been in when you were a second year. Tom Riddle stood tidily a few feet away from you, wearing the same formal school robes you’d seen on him in the yearbook. 

“Hello.” His voice was proper and measured. It fit him perfectly, but the fact that you were finally hearing him speak for the first time made you feel something that was highly inadvisable. 

“Hi.” 

For a moment, you just stared right back into his eyes as the silence closed in around you and the gravity of your situation sunk in. You’d really done it now, hadn’t you? As if to comfort you, the thread around your wrist warmed against your skin. 

“Don’t worry,” said Tom, like he could already tell what you were thinking.“You won’t be trapped. It’s me who’s bound to this world.” 

“And how are you so sure of that?” 

“This is a prison for my soul,” he said casually. “Not yours. You have nothing keeping you here.” 

“Right.” You slowly made your way from the ground to your feet, brushing off your robes and casting a few cleansing charms to dispel the dust clinging to you. At least your magic seemed to work fine here, you noted. It was a small comfort to know that you’d be able to defend yourself if shit went left. 

“I didn’t think you’d say yes.” Now that he was speaking more, you couldn’t help but admire the way he sounded—silken and smooth and entirely unbothered, like he did this every day. “I was sure that I’d scared you off.”

“You underestimate how much I want that Potions O,” you offered. 

“Never,” he said dryly. “Now that I see that you’re a Ravenclaw, I wouldn’t endeavor to make such ill-informed assumptions.”

You blanched, your head whipping down to take in what you were wearing. You weren’t sure why you were so shocked to see that you were wearing exactly what you’d had on moments ago at your desk—a midnight blue jumper with the Ravenclaw emblem stitched into the left breast, pulled on top of the white button up with the bronze and blue tie tucked underneath. That, and the standard-issue Hogwarts skirt and tights. Hardly dungeon attire—if you didn’t start brewing something soon, you’d be shivering. 

It all looked very silly compared to how many layers Tom was wearing. His prefect pin glinted under the dim lighting of the Potions classroom, and you tried your best to keep your heart from swooning. 

“Did I not tell you that I was a Ravenclaw?”

The corner of his mouth twitched up. “I don’t believe so. I would’ve remembered.” 

“Are you surprised?”

He cast his dark eyes up to the ceiling and scrunched his nose in a way that you thought was meant to convey a serious bout of thinking. “Not quite. I was stuck between that and Slytherin.”

“Slytherin?” You couldn’t stop the way you grimaced at this.

“I thought we had enough in common for it to be plausible.” 

A thrill shot through you. “I’m sorry to disappoint.” 

“I suppose I can't be too taken aback,” he said mildly, stepping neatly back and conjuring a cauldron to appear on the tabletop to his right. “You are a muggleborn. I don’t know of any who have been sorted into Slytherin.” 

This wasn’t news to you, but Tom’s delivery stung more than usual. The implication hung heavy in the air that you were somehow in the inferior house, only placed in Ravenclaw because of your blood. As an afterthought—as a convenient place for you to be put away. 

“That’s true,” you said, stepping closer until only the brewing table was in between you two. “But I doubt that I’d have been sorted there, even if I had been born a pureblood. The whole glutton-for-knowledge thing about Ravenclaw has always been me.”

“I disagree.” Tom summoned over a few jars of ingredients with a nonverbal wave of his wand. “If you’d been born with purer blood, you wouldn’t be so desperate to find a way to compensate.”

You flinched. Ouch. 

“I’m very aware of why I feel the need to work so hard,” you snipped. “But I really don’t think that has anything to do with my genuine academic curiosity. If I was so single-minded in using knowledge for compensation then perhaps I would have been a Slytherin.”

For a moment, his dark eyes flashed with something that you couldn’t quite catch before his face ironed itself into something impassive once more. “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to offend.”

You frowned, watching as he placed familiar ingredients on the table and began lining them up. “It’s fine. Just a bit of a sore spot, that’s all.” 

He gave you a look that made you feel like you’d just pointed out the obvious. Which you had, clearly. But it was offensive regardless. 

“I’ve assembled all the ingredients for a Draught of Living Death,” he announced, stepping back from the table and waving one pale hand at the spread in front of you. “You said you had trouble with brewing the base. This makes sense, since more complicated potions require more stable bases. I’m not wrong in assuming that you’ve always been adept at following instructions and brewing perfect potions before this year?”

He waited for your nod to continue.

“N.E.W.T Potions is different in that it challenges your intuition. Before this, you’ve been able to coast by relying on the guidance of others. But with potions like the Living Death, you need to be able to think on your feet. Even the slightest variation in your ingredients—the age, the quality, the place of origin—can be what ruins an otherwise perfectly good brew. Every potions recipe you see in school textbooks makes implicit assumptions about the quality and age of your ingredients. If, say, it’s an unusually hot day when a supply shipment arrives and the gillyweed oxidizes, the instructions for a more difficult potion won’t anticipate that you need to temper it with volcanic salt.

“That’s where you come in. When you’re preparing your base, you need to have an intimate understanding of the properties of each ingredient and how they interact with each other. This way, when you notice something isn’t quite average with your supplies—as is common in a school where ingredients are shipped in bulk—you can adjust.” 

Tom paused, his eyes meeting yours. You blinked once, then broke the contact to look at the cauldron.

No one had ever explained that to you before. No one had ever taken the time. Snape certainly hadn’t been interested in lecturing about why so many students were incapable of  producing viable potions—he was far more content with insulting his pupils for being inadequate. 

“I never knew that,” you admitted, finally looking back at him. He hadn’t moved an inch. “That makes so much sense.” 

Though your words were far from creative, honesty dripped from your voice.

“Right then,” said Tom, nodding tightly and stepping back to gesture to the ingredients. “Try to prepare the base again. This time pay attention to the state of the ingredients.”

You got the work, thinly dicing the beetroot while you set the moon water to simmer in the cauldron. 

“This was bruised,” you noted, motioning to the cubes you’d just cut. 

Tom nodded, looking at you rather expectantly. 

“...which means that part of it has already oxidized,” you continued cautiously. In truth, you hadn’t spent much time learning about the different chemical properties of the ingredients. That felt too concretely muggle, too blatantly biological. “Which means that the enzymes have, uh, had their bonds ruptured?”

“And…?” 

“And that means I need to…” You squinted down at the vegetable, trying to conjure up any knowledge you had about enzymes and potion making. It probably wouldn’t be volcanic salt. Would it? “I don’t think that I can use volcanic salt as a binding agent this time. If my memory serves correctly, moon water becomes unstable in the presence of pure minerals. So that means…acid? Lemon?”

Tom slid a vial over to you, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Mix a little into the beetroot before adding it.”

You uncorked it and let the citrus juice sink into the purple cubes, running slightly down the cutting board and pooling in the wooden crevices. 

The rest of your base preparation went just as smoothly, with Tom offering up the odd helpful comment while you nodded and committed it to memory. 

You finished with a base that looked nothing like the disaster you’d created just hours ago. You were just barely able to keep yourself from grinning and throwing your arms around Tom’s neck as you both began to clean up and vanish the contents of the cauldron.

“Well done,” said Tom, spelling the cutting board clean. The vibrant pink marks from the beetroot vanished. “Consider me impressed.”

You nearly exploded with giddiness. 

“Thank you,” you said very normally. He was standing so close to you now that if you reached out, your fingers would skim his robe-clad arm. But you wouldn’t do that, because that was weird. Because he was living in a journal and he was somehow bound to this strange alternative reality. Because you weren’t even sure if it was possible to touch him. Because even if it was, Tom Riddle did not seem like the type of person who would be partial to physical affection—especially not from someone like you. “Do you—have you found anything out about how you can escape?” 

Tom’s fluid motions as he tidied the table only stuttered for a moment. “Some. Nothing concrete, though.”

“If you told me exactly what it was you did to get stuck in here, I’d probably be able to offer a lot more help,” you pointed out in a way that you hoped didn’t sound too cajoling. 

He didn’t say anything. 

“Come on,” you pressed, putting your hands on your hips. “I’ve aired out all my dirty laundry to you. You can tell me. I don’t think there’s anything you could say that I haven’t already guessed.”

“Really?” drawled Tom, his eyes locking on yours. “Nothing at all?”

“Nothing,” you affirmed. 

“So why don’t you tell me what happened?” 

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

Men could be so frightfully dull sometimes. 

“There’s a book,” said Tom with a deceptive casualness, “That should be in the Restricted section. It’s called ‘Secrets of the Darkest Arts.’ Read that. If you’d still like to know afterwards, I’ll oblige.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine.” 

The work table was all cleaned up, no trace of your previous potion brewing except for the lingering scent in the air. 

“Well,” said Tom. His hands were folded neatly behind his back as he remained a respectable distance away from you. “I suppose I should be sending you back.”

“I suppose,” you echoed. “Will I—do you think I’ll get to see you again?”

You regretted it the moment the words left your mouth. Hopefully the blush on your face could be written off by the excuse that you were just brewing. 

This time when he looked at you, it felt like he was re-evaluating something. “Whenever you’d like. I’m not especially occupied.”

Before you could stop yourself, your face was splitting into a bright smile. “Of course. I was definitely asking because of your busy schedule.” 

He blinked twice. Then he opened his mouth, closed it, and fidgeted with his tie. It was the most obvious sign of discomfort you’d seen from him the entire evening. 

“Right,” he said stiffly. “Ehm—yes. It was pleasant to have you here.”

“Pleasant?” you echoed, your eyebrows raised. 

“I mean that I’ve enjoyed the time that we’ve spent in correspondence,” he said, waving a hand like that made what he said any less awkward.

“Tom, I was teasing you,” you said. “I don’t need some sort of confession about how you can actually stand being around me. I can tell.”

“Right,” he said again. “I’ll send you back now.”

Before you could add another remark about how weird he was being, you were catapulted out of the dungeons and back into your desk chair.

“Merlin’s Beard!” gasped Lucy from behind you. 

You blinked, letting your eyes adjust to the bright lighting of your dorm. 

“You literally came out of nowhere!” said Lucy, coming around to put her hands on your desk and stare at you. “I was getting worried, too. Padma is coming back soon. I thought that I’d have to devise some sort of plan to keep her out of the room so she wouldn’t ask why you materialized out of thin air.”

“Yeah,” you said, your eyes unfocused.

“So what happened?” 

“I—” You exhaled. “Lucy, I’m so fucked. He’s actually really cute.” 

“I knew it,” said Lucy, shaking your shoulders. 

“He helped me brew the base for the Draught of Living Death,” you elaborated. “He’s a really good tutor. He spoke for like 5 minutes about the properties of different ingredients, and I swear I’ve learned more from him than from 6 years of Snape’s lectures.”

“And did you guys talk?”

“A little.” You frowned, thinking back on the interactions you’d had. “He was really odd when I asked him about what I needed to do to get him out. Even weirder when I asked if I was going to see him again. He made some comment about how he wasn’t exactly busy and I said something that implied that I knew that but wanted to know if he liked seeing me, and he was super awkward.”

Lucy cringed. “Well, I mean, if I’d been stuck in a diary for 50 years without talking to someone, I’d probably be a little strange too. Tell me how he is when he talks—or writes, I guess—to you next.”

The next time Tom responded to a diary entry, you had news.

Tom you wrote. Are you there?

Yes.

Can you bring me back to you?

Why? Do you need another Potions lesson?

You rolled your eyes. Not quite.

Well, no. I won’t let you back until you’ve read the book I told you about.

That’s why I’m asking! I’ve tried looking for it everywhere. When none of the querying spells worked, I went through the entire Restricted Section by hand. Nothing! I asked Madam Pince and she told me that that book had been banned since before she’d gotten the position as librarian. I’m probably on some watch list now

That is troubling. 

So if you’ll be so kind, please let me back in so I can use your library. Thank you in advance

There was a long pause that you imagined Tom took to sigh and run his fingers through his hair in exasperation. Then:

Very well. 

You were falling through space once again.

final a/n: thank you for reading! let me know how you feel about it! this is my first time writing for tom so im kind of nervous or whatever

[srvbryn]

Luke Castellan. Detention

Not set in riordanverse & highschool au!Luke; MASTERLIST

Luke Castellan X f!reader

Summary: "Well, well, look who's joined the detention club" Luke gets detention — He misplaced his history textbook, and what's better than stealing borrowing it from the library?

Warning: teenagers acting like teenagers, not a lot of dialogues, they have houses like the one in Harry Potter lol (only mentioned once) & Reader house is not mentioned, this is a bit boring

The detention room felt confined, with time moving at a snail's pace. Luke sat there, tracing imaginary patterns on the desk, the minutes ticking away like a never-ending countdown.

Just when he thought he was alone with the hum of Mr. D and the ticking of the clock, the door creaked open, and in walked (Name), a smirk on her lips.

"Well, well, look who's joined the detention club," Luke teased.

(Name) rolled her eyes and took the seat next to him. "Figured I'd keep you company. Detention is always more fun with a partner in crime, right?"

Luke couldn't help but chuckle — "Partner in crime, huh? I like the sound of that."

As the minutes passed, the two of them had whispered conversations, exchanged notes, and made light of the situation.

(Name) couldn't resist making fun of Luke's situation.

"So, what's the grand crime that got you in here, Luke?" she asked with a sly grin.

A few hours ago — LUKE CASTELLAN

Luke's risky textbook stealing borrowing scheme involved a well-thought-out strategy that, avoided the school administration's watchful gaze.

He may or may not have misplaced his textbook accidentally.. hahaha

However, this time, it was a classic case of overconfidence that led to his downfall.

Luke decided to carry out his plan during the school assembly, when most teachers were busy with maintaining the wandering student body under control.

Confident that he could slip in and out like a shadow, he ventured into the classroom, only to find himself face-to-face with the one teacher who had decided to stay behind to organize some papers.

As he reached for the textbook, Mr. Chiron looked up from his work and caught Luke in the act. The moment was frozen, and an uneasy silence filled the room.

Luke's grin faded into a sheepish smile as he tried to come up with a plausible excuse.

Mr. Chiron raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Luke Castellan, what exactly are you doing in here during the assembly?"

Luke scratched the back of his head, attempting to feign innocence. "Oh, you know, just wanted to get a head start on some reading. Education waits for no one, right?"

"Nice try, Mr. Castellan. I don't recall giving you permission to access the library during the assembly. Detention it is."

And that's how Luke's textbook borrowing adventure came to an abrupt halt, leading him to the very detention that (Name) chose to join.

Luke leaned in, a gleam in his eyes. "I may have liberally borrowed some textbooks without asking. The school administration didn't appreciate my innovative approach to study materials."

(Name) burst into laughter, earning them a stern look from Mr. D. "Classic Hermes house move. Couldn't just check out a classroom book like the rest of us, huh?"

"Where's the fun in that?" he replied, a playful glint in his eyes. "Besides, I thought it added a touch of rebellion to my academic pursuits."

The two of them continued to jokes, causing the otherwise boring detention surprisingly pleasant.

The more they chatted, the more (Name) realized there was more to Luke than his rebellious exterior.

They even swapped a few sarcastic comments about the school's absurd rules. (No phones allowed, must wear a tie all the time, don't run in the hallways (the usual))

The teacher on duty, Mr. D, sat at his desk, buried in paperwork (surprisingly) unaware.

Luke discreetly crumpled a piece of paper and passed it to (Name) with a glint in his eyes.

They exchanged a knowing look, silently agreeing on their next move. (Name), with a suppressed giggle, aimed the paper at the back of Mr. D's head and let it fly.

The paper landed with a soft thud, catching the teacher's attention. He turned around, narrowing his eyes at the seemingly innocent duo.

"Alright, who did that?" Mr. D demanded, scanning the room.

Luke and (Name) exchanged innocent glances, attempting to suppress their laughter. Mr. Anderson sighed, suspecting he was dealing with a pair of children.

As Mr. D returned to his paperwork, the both of them couldn't resist another attempt at amusement.

This time, Luke folded the paper into an aeroplane. With a quick motion, he launched it at Mr. D, causing it to glide gracefully through the air.

The paper airplane did a loop-de-loop before landing on Mr. D's desk, right in front of him. He looked up, a mix of irritation and bemusement on his face.

"Alright, that's enough. We're in detention, not a paper competition," he scolded, shaking his head.

Luke and (Name) exchanged a glance, barely containing their laughter.

As the final minutes of detention passed, Mr. D kept an eye on them, suspecting that more antics were on the way.

Luke and (Name), however, had already shared enough laughs to make their time in detention enjoyable.

Luke couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment as the clock ticked down to the end of their detention.

He glanced at (Name), a genuine smile playing on his lips. "Same time tomorrow, partner?"

(Name) raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming. "Only if you promise not to get caught every time."

Luke chuckled. "Deal."

[57sfinest]

i love thinking about harry's relationship to his sexuality because like. we can infer that it's something he didn't know about himself before his amnesia. he spent 44 years full of internalized homophobia in what we can guess is not an especially accepting society, probably thinking "well i'm dating a woman so i'm straight it's fine lol. i'm sooo straight." just deliberately Not Thinking About It every time he saw a guy he thought was hot. turning it into a whole "guys being dudes" thing if he ever caught himself definitely-not-flirting with guys. being a stereotypical gym teacher because as we all know, anything that happens between pumped-up men in a gym locker room doesn't count. nevermind the fact that he based his entire personality off a disco star that he personally found hot, or had a fixation with a male boxer so rampant that even jean got sick of hearing about it. ignore the mullet and the affinity for disco long after the genre had gone culturally extinct, which are maybe two of the most bi things a man can have. all of these things and he's just like wow i sure love women! i'm so straight! i wonder what it would feel like to kiss this guy dancing in the club. with tongue. but like as bros lol i kiss women only! no homo!

then he forgets everything including homosexuality, but more importantly, including homophobia, so he doesn't have a label for his feelings but he also lacks the associated reservations, so he's just openly like wow these men are so cool and muscular and handsome. that smoker guy's shirt was open and he left before i could keep staring :( my brain is destroyed and i forgot the face of my partner of 3 years but remember that hot working-class boxer? hey kim i decided i don't care about my sexuality anymore, but also are you gay? oh cool. anyway i'm gonna go flirt with idiot doom spiral right in front of you and make ambiguously homosexual remarks all the time.

basically he goes from "doesn't know he's bi (homophobic)" to "doesn't know he's bi (clueless)" to, presumably, "knows he's bi (clueless)"

[skeelly]

❀ kristen ❀ 14◝ 🇵🇭◝ brain-rotten ◝ very sarcastic◝ music? yes ◝ i really like poetry ◝ ambivert◝ addicted to sleeping◝ i can be super annoying so beware ◝ i love ice cream ◝ amen ◝ she/her ◝ crazy ◝ i love emoticons :) ◝ i also don't bother to reread messaged before i send them, sorry ◝

❀ olivia rodrigo 𓍼 taylor swift 𓍼 the smiths 𓍼 one direction 𓍼 harry styles 𓍼 niall horan 𓍼 louis tomlinson 𓍼 zayn 𓍼 gracie abrams 𓍼 claire rosinkranz 𓍼 the weeknd 𓍼 lil skies 𓍼 clairo 𓍼 conan gray 𓍼 lana del rey 𓍼 one republic 𓍼 why don't we 𓍼 the neighborhood 𓍼 dominic fike 𓍼 abba 𓍼 quinnie 𓍼 the strokes 𓍼 anarbor 𓍼 laufey 𓍼 the vamps 𓍼 sabrina carpenter 𓍼 5sos 𓍼 role model 𓍼

❀ stay away if you're: ♡ homophobic ♡ racist ♡ sexist ♡ misogynistic ♡ pro-israel ♡ my family ♡ knows me irl ♡ i can't think of anything else so if you're bad just stay away ♡

not that it's important, but my url is pronounced as skel-e hehe okay

so i don't exactly know what else you'd like to know about me, so just send an ask!!

i believe in the power of friendship (please be my friend)

@crysten my poems

❀ my people

in no particular order (i'm still adding to it cause i don't know who would be okay with getting mentioned here lol. also most of my friends have deactivated. and if you don't want to be mentioned or do want to be mentioned, you can tell me!!)

@moonlightt444

@gergthecat

@mqstermindswift

@flowers-for-em

@lilydoeswrite

@kimu-dem

@coco6420

@beautiful-songbird

@arqbella

@you-know-that-i-caught-it

@sleepinginmygrave

@s1xseasonsandamov1e

@iloveyapping

@daydream-of-a-wallflower

@percabeths-blue-cookies

@anixknowsnothin

[edgessunflower]

if you write for heartstopper(the graphic novels/show) I was wondering if you could do a femReader x tori spring? Just something sweet! A lil romantic ig lol

I can't find anything to do with heartstopper on any reading apps!!! 😭😭

Absolutely! I love heartstopper so much 🥺

For so long

Pairing: Tori Spring x Fem reader

Description: While listening to American movie soundtracks, it leads to a change between you and your best friend Tori

You smile as you and Tori sit on the floor in her bedroom with different snacks and drinks before looking up the soundtrack for E.T. The extra-terrestrial and listening to every song which leaves tori in awe. "That was amazing..let's find more!" you giggle as the two of you slowly listen to different movie soundtracks together from Casper, Final destination, and The outsiders to Star wars, Mulan, and Harry Potter until you guys started listening to the soundtrack for the movie Fluke, track 9 on the soundtrack made you tear up and slowly you were quietly crying as the song played, you calmed down while eating chips until tracks 13, 14, 16, and 18 made you cry more hiding your face in your hands as the tears flowed uncontrollably until you feel a hand on your wrist looking to see a teary eyed tori staring at you "I don't know why it just made me feel everything through the music" you both slowly calm down as the soundtrack for Final destination 2 starts playing. The two of you took a break and ate lunch downstairs with her brother Charlie and his boyfriend Nick who came over for the day, you joke around with the boys before going back upstairs with tori changing your clothes in the bathroom before continuing the rest of the final destination 2 soundtrack and a few other tracks before you put on Fall in the light by Graeme Revell and Lori Carson from the movie Strange days which was one of your favorite american movies after finding sets of american films from your grandmother and then more from your aunt and cousins falling in love with many of the movies you've seen especially Disney, romcom, and emotional films that changed how you saw films and acting. You notice as the song plays that tori was holding your hand which you had done together plenty of times but something about this hold was different, you notice how close the two of you were before you were nose to nose staring into each other's eyes until she closed the gap and the two of you were in a delicate and gentle kiss that felt different from the kisses you shared with two different boys one 6 months ago and the other two years earlier, you stare at her in awe as you caught your breath laying on the floor with her above you before you both giggled and got up in her bed switching from listening to music to watching movies together while laying wrapped in each other's arms. "I've had feelings for you for so long now" you both share another kiss before you ended up falling asleep an hour later not knowing that nick and charlie had walked in to find the two of you asleep smiling at each other knowing that the two of you had shared some kind of moment, a month later you announced to everyone you knew that two of you were together earning an outcome of support from both your families and friends only having to deal with a few bullies here and there but even despite that the two of you always prove no matter the hate that you deeply cared about each other.

[drewharrisonwriter]

Is that alright?

Pairings: Henry Cavill x Singer Reader

Summary: You are a musical guest in The Graham Norton Show on an episode that also features your ex-boyfriend, Henry Cavill. You play your latest single that you've written when you were 18 and in love with Henry.

A/N: Implied previous relationship. I don't think there are any more warnings, except the delusional situation that I've concocted. LOL This is based on the song Is That Alright? by Lady Gaga from The Star Is Born movie.

Check out my fic masterlist.

As the stage lights dimmed, the audience of The Graham Norton Show erupted in applause, eagerly anticipating the next musical guest. The cameras panned to the artist nervously waiting in the wings. You took a deep breath and stepped into the spotlight, gently sitting down on the chair and placing your hands on the ivory keys.

With grace and confidence, you began playing your latest single which took you nearly 10 years to release. A song you've written when you were so deeply in love with the love of your life, Henry Cavill.

As you began to sing, your voice resonated with a depth of emotion that captivated everyone in the room.

When the last note faded into silence, the applause was thunderous. 

You took a gracious bow and went over to the red couch where the guests for the night were all on their feet, applauding as well and congratulating you on your heartfelt performance. 

Henry, being a guest as well that night, caught your eye as he extended a hand to shake yours. You gave him a warm smile as you shook his hand. 

"Y/N, that was absolutely stunning." Graham began when the greetings and applause were over. "This single is truly heartbreakingly beautiful. Tell us about it!" He asked enthusiastically.

You glanced at Graham, taking a moment to collect your thoughts. This was the question you were both expecting and dreading.

"Thank you, Graham." You began nervously. 

It wasn't that it was your first ever TV guesting, but it is the first time you were sharing the screen with your now excessively famous ex, Henry Cavill. Talking about the song you wrote about your relationship with him nearly ten years ago is a bit embarrassing on your end. 

"Yes, 'Is That Alright?' is a very personal song for me. I actually wrote it when I was 18 years old, so like almost ten years ago when I was deeply in love with someone who meant the world to me."

The audience watched intently, unaware of the connection between you and the other guest on the show, Henry Cavill. But Henry, caught off guard by your revelation, nearly choked on his Martini but tried to play it cool as he waited for you to continue. 

"Ten years?!" Graham exclaimed a little exaggeratedly. "Why did it take you that long to release this gem?" 

You laughed a little, hoping you looked cool and calm enough. 

"The long answer or the short answer?" You joked and everyone laughed. 

Even Henry was laughing, you were always funny, and he was amazed you were able to preserve your humor and wit despite the nerve-wracking fame you've garnered over the years. 

"How long will the long answer take?" Graham quipped.

"However long it takes the crew to give me five shots of tequila." The studio erupted with laughter, Graham was laughing behind the cards in his hands. 

"No, I'm sorry." You began, "Okay. So for real, this song holds immense significance to me, it’s a sort of love letter, you see… and these are the words I wanted to let the person I wrote it for know but I never had the chance to.” 

You saw Henry bit his lower lip and look down on the drink in his hand. 

"Why weren’t you able to give this ‘love letter’ to them?” One of the guests asked as you were drinking.

“He broke up with me.” You said shyly and laughter ensued once again. 

“How old were you again when you wrote this?” One of the older guests on the couch asked, an actor, that you can’t remember the name of but looks an awful lot like Nearly Headless Nick from Harry Potter. 

"Just 18. I was so young when I wrote it..." 

"You were binge drinking at 18, you were not THAT young," Graham said in jest and everyone laughed once again. 

You chuckled along with the audience, appreciating Graham's lightheartedness amidst the delicate subject. From your peripherals, you saw that Henry was looking in your direction, he was laughing, too. 

The conversation flowed, everyone on the couch asked their question or complimented your latest single, except for Henry. Graham, noticing how awfully quiet he was, asked, “And Henry, how do you find Y/N’s latest single?” 

You felt a lump form in your throat, you did your best to swallow your drink and as Graham asked Henry.

Henry chuckled, looking down at his drink a bit before looking at you and saying: “It’s beautiful.”

“Awfully unfeeling.” Graham quipped with a fake whisper and eye roll and laughter ensued once again. 

You laughed at Graham’s remark, too and thanked Henry. 

When the show ended, you made your way backstage to hurriedly gather your things when you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You turned to find Henry standing at the door of your dressing room. “Hi…” He said softly. You said a quiet hello and asked him to come in. 

“I’m so sorry, but…” He began as you zipped your bag. “Do you have any plans for tonight?” 

You straightened up and faced Henry, blinking fast trying to absorb what he just asked. 

“Uh…just go back to the hotel and that’s it. Order room service, maybe.” You answered honestly, feeling your face turn warm in slight embarrassment for your lack of fun plans for the night. 

He chuckled lightly, “May I interest you with a Pint?” 

You might have stared at him a little too long before answering, because you saw him lightly cock his head to the side. “Uhm… sure.” You managed to say, finally. 

“Perfect. Meet you outside in 10 minutes?” He said with a huge smile, and you only nodded in reply. You watched him walk out the dressing room, the smile never leaving his face. 

You were a bit shocked.

It’s been nearly a decade since you’ve last seen or spoken to Henry. But the last few minutes… they didn’t feel like much time passed. You sat down and breathed, you can do this… 

It’s just Henry. 

It’s just Henry.

TBC...

[pleasingsatellite]

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harryandy/n Harry and y/n arrived in Venice today for the Venice Film Festival, looks like y/n is going to be his plus one! We can't wait to see them on the red carpet.

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harryfan1 ugh he looks so rich are you kidding me???

y/nfan1 my favorite thing about them is they always look like they're going to two separate events

↳ harryfan2 you're so right, harry looks like he's on his way to some fashion event meanwhile y/n is holding ice cream looking like she's going to frolic

y/nfan2 ughhh need a y/n and Florence interaction so I can feed my delusion that one day they will be in a movie together

liked by harrystyles, harrisreed and 890,303 others

yourinstagram I feel like I'm sending my over dressed toddler off to his first day at school. Happy Brit's day! I'll be cheering you on from my table in the audience with the endless supply of champagne 🫶🏻

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harryfan1 omg omg omg omg

harryfan2 he looks so good, the flower? the bare chest? the everything???? 😗

annetwist please remind him to drink water between his alcohol ❤️

↳ yourinstagram don't worry mama twist he's in safe hands

↳ harrystyles I told y/n and Gemma I'll have max 2 drinks.... or 5 if we win

jefezoff BEHAVE GARY

liked by y/nfan1, y/nfan2 and 45,594 others

y/nupdates y/n today at the Brit's reacting to Harry drunkingly confessing his love for her during his speech

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y/nfan1 stop she's so cute she was so embarrassed 🥺

y/nfan2 I just know the minute he was running to the stage she knew he'd say something to embarrass her

harryfan1 he loves her so much are you kidding me

y/nfan3 "and to y/n, everyday I look at you and wonder how I managed to land such a hot girlfriend. Everything I do, I do with you in mind. Everyone give it up for the prettiest girl in the room!" 😭🥹😭🥹

↳harryfan2 if any man said this about me I'd propose and jump his bones on SIGHT!!!!

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harryupdates y/n is in the audience tonight at LOT Japan! Harry waved at her when he came out and sent her kisses and told security to check on her!

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harryfan1 he's so cute and smiley tonight and now we know why

harryfan2 I need someone to love me as much as harry loves y/n fr fr

y/nfan1 omg I saw her at the show tonight she's so cute and was telling the people with her how jet lagged she is but didn't wanna miss the show so she had to drink a bunch of coffee before hand 😙

y/nfan2 my angel I love her I hope she stays in Japan with harry now that she's not filming anymore

harryfan3 someone threw a shirt at harry with a picture of him and y/n on the front and he said he's gonna wear it as soon as he gets off stage

↳ harryfan4 we're about to get a 1d gym shirt repeat again with this shirt I just know it

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pagesix I just can't keep my hands to myself! Singer Harry Styles and actress y/n were caught in a very public PDA session last night during a street party in Japan. The couple who have been together for 5 years were spotted by onlookers but clearly only had eyes for each other. Ugh, young love!

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harryfan1 heart stopped I've been standing in the same spot for hours 😫

y/nfan1 MY MOM AND DAD!!!

yourinstagram ...oops 🤭

↳harryfan2 girl that's all you gotta say!!! we know you don't regret it

↳yourinstagram not at all 😙

harryfan2 you know harry's in deep when the man who catches every camera doesn't catch the one recording his make out

↳yourinstagram it's more like the 6 highballs he drank 🫢

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harrydaily Harry out shopping with y/n and friends today in Japan! When fans mentioned the kiss harry and y/n just laughed and shook their heads

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harryfan1 that man regrets NOTHING

↳harryfan2 I mean would you lol

harryfan3 I'm so happy harry and y/n finally feel comfortable to be so open with their relationship

harryfan4 he looks so fine ugh that post pubic makeout glow

harryfan5 I know Jeffery was loosing his shit seeing those pics and harry and y/n were just like...it is what it is

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harrystyles I mean do you really blame me?

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....hello.... the longest long time no see wow. tbh I just have not felt like even opening the Tumblr app since like mid-january and eventually just deleted the app but finally felt a little bit rejuvenated tonight. I've been trying to reply limit just how much time I spend on social media and trying to read more and have been but also miss just being on here and posting (I'm not saying I'm back to regular posts but will try and post when I can)

[1d1195]

Traditional Extra I

I think this is the moment many of us have been waiting for. I mentioned it in an ask at the time, but I listened to Thin Air by Aqualung the duration of writing part 9 and during this if you want some ambiance, lol.

This is smut smut smut, 18+, no minors please. If you think it could happen during sex put that warning here. Please don't read if you don't want to read about sex. There is hardly any plot.

Anyway. I hope you enjoy and if you want plot, the rest of the story is here: Traditional. Again, takes place during my little * at the end of part 9. I'm very nervous about this so please be kind; I hope it was worth some of the wait.

“Don’t want t’scare y’love...m’a bit vocal during this kind of thing,” he told her.

“I-I’m not,” she whispered her breath catching in her throat again. The idea of Harry talking to her throughout...oh God.

Completely, totally, and literally screwed.

“Okay...I’ll do the talking then,” he hummed against her neck. She felt her vocal cords practically tie themselves together, shutting down all control of her voice. Rendered speechless, he made his way back to her lips with his own.

Since her hands were playing with the elastic of his pants, they were the first to come off. “I forgot you’ve seen me naked before,” he mumbled.

“It was business before,” she reminded him.

“Hmm,” he sighed as he kicked his pants into the bottom of the sheets. At the same time, he pulled his shirt off. Her hands were warm at his hips as she started to draw figure eights along his skin with her fingers. His breath caught in his throat, and he could feel himself growing at her touch so close to his cock.

Harry never worried when it came to sex. Never. It wasn’t that he thought he was some god or anything like that, but it just happened, and he happened to be good at it, based on the feedback he had gotten in the past. But of course, she was so different. Now she was near silent as she flipped the covers back and looked at him as if she was inspecting him. As embarrassed as he should have been he wanted to read her mind. Wanted to know why she wasn’t saying anything.

Biting her lip, she looked up at his eyes and he watched the way her cheeks turned pink. “I haven’t...had sex in like...seven months. I’m worried it’ll be bad...especially when you look like that,” she glanced back at his dick and then back to his gaze.

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Kitten,” he shook his head.

“Also,” she started before he could say anything. “I want this to be about you because you took care of me all weekend and I know you were so upset with me the last couple days and I just want to make it up to you,” she rambled quickly. “Plus, it’s kind of why you pay—”

“Love,” Harry said sitting up against the pillows so he could take hold of her face. Brushing his thumb over her lips so he could quiet her. “Stop,” he whispered and kissed her forehead. “We’ll do whatever you want,” but he silently he promised himself he was going to make her cum so hard she’d never want to have sex with anyone else ever again. “But s’got nothing t’do with making up for taking care of you, or m’crummy mood, or even because I pay you, okay?”

She nodded after a moment of staring into his eyes. “I don’t want it to be bad for you,” she whispered.

He smiled and slid his hands down her neck, over her shoulders and down his sides so he could pull her shirt over her head. She bit the inside of her lip keeping her eyes on Harry’s. His eyes flitted over her briefly. He could feel his heartbeat quicken. “I don’t think s’possible,” he shook his head. “You’re utterly beautiful,” he promised. “So extremely beautiful.”

He leaned her back against the pillows and started kissing down the length of her body until he got to the pants on her hips. It wasn’t the time, but it flew into her head before she could stop it. Harry was slowly pulling at the elastic around her waist, and she felt her heart flutter with worry that he had done this before with others and they were probably way sexier and more experienced in pleasing Harry the way he deserved.

Then a terrible thought blew through her mind and suddenly it was all she could think about. “Wait,” she said quickly as he worked his way up to her underwear again. He pulled away immediately. Put space between her and her body. It couldn’t have been more than a few centimeters but after feeling his skin touch hers all night long, it felt like miles.

He frowned. “What s’matter, kitten? D’you want t’stop?”

She sighed and put a hand over her face to cover her eyes. “I...I didn’t... shave.”

He chuckled before he could stop himself and pulled her hand away from her face so he could see her and more importantly, so she could see his face when he said the next part. “Honestly, beautiful. Of course, we’ll stop if y’want...but I don’t want that t’be a factor or reason why y’want t’stop,” he had this playful smile on his mouth that made her feel silly, but it was also adorable. She could sense the seriousness in his tone. He was kneeling on the bed, looking like he was carved by a Renaissance artist, hands resting on his thighs as he waited for her decision.

“Really?” she said softly, nervously.

“Really,” he repeated.

“Do you remember the last time you saw me naked I was covered in burns...I happened to shave that day...so it’s—.”

“And I told y’that y’were beautiful then, and that hasn’t changed whether y’have completely normal body hair or not. All I can think ‘bout is fucking your brains out, love.”

It made her breath catch in her throat to hear perhaps one of the most salacious things he had ever uttered in her direction while saying it with the utmost sweetness. She really hoped he didn’t see her thighs clench instinctively together to relieve the pressure she was feeling.

He did.

She could see that Harry looked painfully hard. With everything in her, she tried not to stare but it was right there. Somehow managing to be the most perfect dick she could imagine. It was almost embarrassing how badly she wanted it; to touch it, to taste it, to have it inside her. If Harry could read her mind, he would have thought she was a lunatic.

Oh, I’m so fucking screwed, the voice in her head nearly shouted.

“Kitten?” Harry asked. Amusement laced in his voice along with his gentle smile. “Do y’want t’stop?” He asked.

She averted her gaze, only barely surprised by his interruption of her staring. Her cheeks turned pink once more under his gaze anyway and he sank his tooth into his lip looking at her with almost a bit of worry but there was amusement in his eyes as much as his voice. Like she was having some meltdown.

And she was. “Oh, well I think my staring is plenty proof I don’t want to stop.”

“Gonna give me a complex, love,” he chuckled. “But I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“No, no, pretty sure I have to pretend to work for the 35,000 you’ve given me at some point.”

Harry smirked, shaking his head. “M’serious, beautiful. Won’t do it if y’don’t want to. S’not about money.” You can have all my money, if I can just look at you for hours and hours; he refrained from saying that out loud, however.

She shook her head. “I know...I’m sorry. I know you’re not like that...I’m just nervous. Because you look like that and I look like this,” she sighed glancing back at him.

“M’not really sure what that means. Happen t’think you’re quite beautiful,” he moved again to put his hands at her hips. “When y’had all those burns, all I wanted t’do was kiss each one,” he murmured and started to kiss down her body again. Every kiss he pressed to her skin was somewhere she knew she was previously burned. As if he had memorized each one himself. Part of her thought that if he had kissed her skin like this back then that probably would have healed her much faster than any balm she could have used.

His hands grabbed firmly at the elastic of her pants again (he even gripped the sides of her underwear too; she wondered if that was on purpose so she couldn’t overthink again once he was done with her pants). He looked up at her as he pressed another kiss to her hips bone right above one of his hands. His eyes looking for confirmation he could get her naked from the waist down. She gave the smallest nod and Harry began kissing down her leg further, not paying attention to the totality of her nakedness that ensued as he did.

“I want t’make y’feel so good, love. S’that alright?” She shook her head no. He frowned and tilted his head at her as he followed the path of his hands over her kneecap, her shin, even her ankle. “No?” He asked curiously. “Y’don’t want t’feel good?” He murmured.

Her brain was trying to focus on his words, but she was struggling with the gentleness of his voice and the way his fingers were dancing over her skin. “Jesus, fuck,” she managed under her breath causing him to smirk. “Supposed to be about you,” she whispered, barely.

“Mmm...m’not okay with that. S’got be ‘bout you too...or I’ll stop here,” he shrugged, and he was knelt by the end of the bed waiting for her answer. “I want t’make y’feel good,” he promised. “Seven months is a long time t’be giving yourself orgasms. I should know,” he murmured casually. She felt like she was swallowing a rock, but she nodded. Harry hadn’t had an orgasm that wasn’t from himself either and that seemed sinful. She wanted to fix that immediately.

“Okay.”

“You’re sure?” He repeated.

She nodded. “Please,” she said politely. It wasn’t on purpose, but her simple “please” made his stomach knot with pleasure. Only managing to cover his moan with more kisses as he started his ascent back up her body, hardly noticing her lack of underwear or anything, for that matter. “Don’t want t’scare y’love...m’a bit vocal during this kind of thing,” he told her.

“I-I’m not,” she whispered her breath catching in her throat again. The idea of Harry talking to her throughout...oh God.

Completely, totally,and literally screwed.

“Okay...I’ll do the talking then,” he hummed against her neck.

She felt her vocal cords practically tie themselves together, shutting down all control of her voice. Rendered speechless, he made his way back to her lips with his own. As he did so he slid his hand between her thighs almost instantly. His middle finger almost immediately found her clit and she let out the smallest whine of pleasure as he gently massaged small circles against it.

“Does that feel good, love?” He asked against her lips. She nodded fiercely. Slowly, he moved his finger down lower; feeling how wet she was. “You’re all worked up, kitten,” he hummed in appreciation. “Y’were really gonna stop all because of a little bit of hair? Poor thing must be aching,” he murmured sinking his finger into her. Her mouth fell open, but not a sound escaped except for her breath. She closed her eyes confirming Harry’s accusation as she practically arched her body up into his hand, her clit rubbing into the palm of his hand as she did so.

Harry felt a little dizzy seeing her reaction. She looked so pretty arching into his hand. So pretty against his pillow. He would like to make her scream, but he would settle for how the breath escaped her lips and any whine he could get. She felt incredibly warm, soft, and so very wet. He hid his moan in another kiss, licking into her mouth fervently. If she was this tight around his finger, he wasn’t going to last long at all inside her.

Which then reminded him of how hard he felt. Almost at the same time, she felt him pressed against her thigh and he subtly rutted his cock against her leg to get some friction for him. She reached down grabbing his erection and wrapping her hand around it. As she did, he gasped pulling from her lips. Giving a little tug, he squeezed his eyes shut. “Kitten, gotta be careful,” he admitted shyly.

She smirked and took the opportunity to slide down the length of his body, kissing tattoos all along the way. Later, she wanted to ask about all of them. Not every man had a full butterfly across the width of their abdomen. Harry turned to lay back against the pillows while she settled between his legs and kissed all around his pelvic bone. How does he walk around with this thing? She wondered. She thought about it back when he was sick, and he wasn’t even hard at the time. She couldn’t imagine it like this.

Carefully, she slipped her lips over the head and the moan Harry released was practically animalistic. His hand slid through her hair by her ear, and she closed her eyes as she sank her mouth further down the length of him. “Christ,” he hissed. “Kitten, m’serious,” he mumbled. “Gotta be careful.”

She would love for him to cum immediately. It would make her feel so much better about not doing anything for months and months while he was by far the sweetest person she could have hoped to meet on that website. She gagged a bit as she moved him toward the back of her throat and Harry groaned as her mouth sucked him in further. Pulling back, she began a steady rhythm of sucking and getting him soaked with her spit. Harry gently tugged at her hair trying not to force her to do anything—not that he would, nor did he need to. She was doing such a good job he was trying not to think about good it felt so he wouldn’t cum down her throat. “That feels s’good, love,” he sighed as she worked her mouth further. With her free hand she massaged the length of him that didn’t fit in her mouth as she began bobbing her head up and down him. He groaned louder than before. “Fuck,” he murmured, and it sounded like music getting him to swear while he felt pleasure. “Stop, angel,” he whispered quietly as she kept sucking and licking. The sounds coming from her were lewder with every pass up and down his shaft. She felt the warmth between her legs making her wetter somehow.

Harry was right, she was aching. “Kitten,” he said again. A little more firmly but she couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t forcing her to stop. “Please, I don’t want t’cum in your mouth right now. I want t’feel that pretty little pussy around me.”

That shot through her right to her clit. She whined a bit as she released his cock from her lips, and she wiped the back of her hand along her mouth to remove any spit. Harry groaned again and closed his eyes tightly. He reached for the drawer beside him and produced a condom packet. “Need a taste first,” he said and pulled her up toward him. Harry was somehow everywhere at that moment. He was holding one of her hips as she was kneeling around his head, his face buried at the apex of her thighs. His mouth was devouring her, sucking her clit, and licking between her soaking lips. With what little use of her brain was left, she heard him rip the condom wrapper behind her. After a moment, both hands were on her hips, he used them to pull her closer to his mouth.

If her noises were lewd, there needed to be a whole new word for the sounds coming from Harry. She couldn’t even find it in herself to be embarrassed about how wet she was, probably soaking his face. Nor did she notice how she still body hair, she didn’t like the way her stomach looked as she was trying to keep herself upright over his face, or the fact that she hadn’t showered yet.

Then she did think about getting a shower with him afterwards and she thought she might explode right there. One niggling part of her brain managed to remind her not to put her full body weight on him, so she didn’t break his neck. But each time she lifted just a little, his hands gripped tighter on her hips. Pulling her so his mouth was almost suctioned to her.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he pulled her off him for just a minute. “M’gonna spend hours there one day,” he promised. “Tastes like heaven,” he gently maneuvered her to kneel back over his cock. She felt fucked already. Literally. She was certain the second his head even pushed near her clit she would be done for. “But I want t’feel it, kitten,” he said, and he brought her face closer to his. She gasped as she felt the way the head of his cock parted her lips so deliciously. Her eyes fluttered shut. “S’that feel good?” She nodded breathlessly. “Are you having fun, love?” He asked teasing her downright throbbing hole nearly begging for his cock inside her.

She nodded again. “Please,” she whispered so quietly. If that was the only word, she ever said during sex then Harry would have to find a way to cum more than once in a short amount of time because it was going to ruin him.

“Oh, fucking hell, beautiful,” he groaned and slid himself inside her, forgoing the teasing he wanted to extend a little longer. Her breath came out shaky as she sank lower on the length. In her mouth, she knew he was long, but it was entirely different to have him sliding into her. How he fit in, she was unsure. Of course, she was soaking wet, so it didn’t hurt painfully. But seven months of nothing but her own fingers had a slight pull on the muscles she hadn’t used in so long.

It felt so good to sink down the full length of him. He stretched her as if he was made to fit inside her. Harry was holding one hip and the other at the top of her ribcage helping her get adjusted to his cock. His head fell back against the pillow, and he let out another guttural groan that made her clench around him. “Goddammit, angel. Don’t do that or I won’t make it thirty seconds,” he hissed.

She was pathetically, practically cock-drunk already. Only managing to situate herself on him with just one pass of his length. Sinking so her clit was pressed to his pubic bone. She let out a whine as she did and then lifted herself up before she started to bounce herself up and down on him.

“Fuck,” he moaned and helped her move up and down. “S’that feel good?” He asked.

She nodded wordlessly, a tiny gasp escaping her mouth as she slid up and down. Her thighs burned almost immediately but even that felt good along with the stretch of Harry slipping against every inch inside of her. She wanted to ask if it felt good for him, but she wasn’t sure she could talk even if she wanted to.

But Harry was watching her bounce up and down as if it was the most riveting movie he had ever seen in his life. He leaned forward, wrapping his lips around one of her nipples and enjoying the small whine that came from the back of her throat as he did. He flicked his tongue around the quickly hardened nub and he pressed small little kisses around it. He wished she would moan or speak or beg...but somehow the little breath of air the whine, it was all so much better than all of it put together.

The blood flow to his cock was making him dizzy and he realized sadly he wouldn’t last nearly as long as he wanted to. He wanted to spend all day between her legs. It was heaven. Paradise. An oasis. God he was so in love with her.

He stilled her hips, and without breaking any connection between them he turned her to the side of him as he rolled on top of her in such a swift movement, she could hardly believe it. “M’not gonna last much longer,” he admitted shyly. She reached out to grab his face and pulled her toward him to kiss him in a brief pause of lust. She was still silent as she arched up toward him to get him moving again. He chuckled slightly and kissed her back with as much emotion as he could force through his lips attached to her. “Y’feel like heaven, kitten. Such a pretty little pussy,” he told her ear. She shivered and looped her arms around his back. Her fingers pressed hard against the muscles of his shoulder blades. She avoided her nails scraping into his skin because she couldn’t imagine a scenario in which someone would see his back, but surely it would be Niall at a pool or something and then she’d really have to quit her job.

Harry was thrusting into her firmly but somehow gently at the same time. Enough to make her whine against his lips. His hips snapping against her waist as she arched toward him on each thrust was making both of them dizzy. Harry grabbed her hand from his back and placed it between their bodies, so her fingers touched her clit. She gasped at the touch and wished she felt embarrassed, but she almost felt depraved wanting to cum all over him.

“Look so pretty, love,” he groaned. His forehead pressed to hers, his eyes blinking rapidly as his lips touched hers. Not really in a kiss, just taking in her breath as she played with herself. He felt her walls flutter around him. “Y’gonna cum, angel?” He asked. She nodded, again. Wishing she felt embarrassed but couldn’t. She could feel the pleasure knotting tightly in her stomach ready to burst if it got any tighter. “Good, good,” he moaned unable to make sense of his own words it seemed. “Feel s’good, love. God fucking hell,” he hissed. Each time he spoke it made her clench around him and the tingle she gave herself by circling her clit was making her messier.

Harry was stretching and pressing against every inch of her making her see stars. Before she could even realize, she was gasping, panting, alerting Harry that she was done for, as she fluttered around him rapidly. “Oh fuck, yes,” he groaned against her mouth and pulled her closer to him as he began thrusting hard and quick against her. It felt so good, her mouth open and she arched toward him, and he groaned. “Y’look,” his voice was stilted as he spoke with each thrust. “So. Fucking. Pretty. Cumming. All. Over. Me,” and she felt like she might pass out or die but would welcome it fully. “Fuck kitten,” he moaned again.

His rhythm finally stuttered, and he thrusted once more into her with a long moan. Despite the condom, she felt the way he fell apart inside her. He shivered a bit and slumped toward her, nearly breathless. His face pressed along her neck and the pillow behind her head. She reached for the back of his head, massaging her fingers along his scalp. Releasing a long breath, she felt like she could finally have a coherent thought. Still, all her thoughts surrounded the man inside and on her.

Harry carefully lifted his head back up and kissed her gently. Just brushing his lips softly with his own. He rolled off her hips, causing her to gasp at the cool air that touched her core as he did. He silently took care of the condom before falling back beside her, pulling the blanket back over them. She moved toward him, effortlessly drawn to him. Slipped over his arm and rested her head on his chest.

She couldn’t help but think that if it was going to be like that, she should have started this when she met him six months ago. Harry’s fingers trailed up and down her arm and she felt woozy and satisfied as she pressed a kiss to his skin. Another part of her thought it was still best given that he was paying her...and finally for what he was supposed to pay her for.

Harry was trying to regulate his breathing, listening for sounds of distress; or maybe her thoughts finally appearing out loud. But regardless, he was so content. So in love with her. And so very happy with the beautiful girl beside him.

--

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I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

[claymoresword]

I Choose Her | Chp: 13

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of known death eaters from one of the richest and oldest wizarding family. Are you prepared to abandon everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 3.5k

Warnings: character deaths, parental neglect, mentions of mental/physical/emotional abuse, potential self harm references

Note: an update?? who saw this coming? definitely not me! i know i disappeared for a very long time, i have no excuse i just hope you can accept my apology

i also was kind of procrastinating this chap for so long bc of the heavy themes in this, i just knew this wasn't going to be an easy one to write... (i was right) but anyway i added some fluff to hopefully balance it out so we'll see lol

anyway thanks so much for your patience, i hope you enjoy this one!

also one last thing, thanks for all the love shown on the previous chapters, sorry if i hadn't gotten around to replying to your comment yet but i do appreciate all of u !!

Taglist:@gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karsonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic

(pics are not mine)

As you approach Malfoy Manor you find it increasingly difficult to catch your breath. 

You were foolish to assume you wouldn't eventually get caught. 

You fleetingly consider grabbing Hermione and disapparating, but Greyback's firm grip on your arm prevents you from even attempting to reach for her.

The gates of the manor come into view, and you try to pry your arm away again. A last ditch effort, but it is no use. 

The man forcefully holds you in place and you have no choice but to stand in front of the gate.

 You make eye contact with Bellatrix as she approaches from the other side, her gaze then shifts to a disfigured Harry to your left, before landing her attention back to you.

A maniacal smile flashes across her face, as if she found the display before her truly amusing, and you have to fight the urge to cower.

"Get Draco." 

════════════════════════════════════════════

You stood in the foyer in front of your parents. An involuntary thrill travels down your spine as you study their expressions. You cannot recall the last time you have seen either of them this furious. 

"So this is what you have been doing all this time?" Your mother exclaims, gesturing to Hermione and you have to avert your eyes.

Your silence only further infuriates your parents. 

You cannot help but feel a sense of embarrassment, being apprehended like a child in front of the other Death Eaters, Harry, Ron, and worst of all, Hermione.

"Have you absolutely no regard for your mother or I?" Your father finally speaks, his voice vibrating with anger.

"We have given you everything. Do you have any idea what we had to sacrifice just to raise you? Your mother and I have provided you nothing but the best." Your father raises his voice, it is sudden enough that it causes you to wince.

"This is how you repay us?" He continues.

"Do you have any idea the shame you have brought upon my name? Upon our entire family?" Your father steps closer but you keep your gaze fixed to the ground.

"I'm sorry." All you could afford to utter.

You hate how you feel in this moment, powerless and meek, only wishing for the ground to swallow you whole, so you never have to face any of the people in this room ever again.

You can feel Hermione's worried stare, but you cannot bear to look at her.

"We have warned you time and time again to end your relations with her." Your mother hisses, gesturing to your girlfriend.

You finally lift your head but your mother harshly grabs your forearm to pull you aside.

"Don't you dare look at her, y/n." She scolds, pure vitriol.

"You must think us fools. Is this all just a game to you?" Your mother taunts but you choose to remain silent.

An effort to de-escalate but it results in the opposite effect as you catch your mother fishing her wand out of her pocket.

"We have given you more than enough chances. More than you deserve." She states, pushing past you, storming directly towards Hermione.

A flicker of fear appears on your girlfriend's face. One you mirror, just as you realize what your mother intended to do.

Hermione tries to retreat, only to bump into Scabior, purposely standing behind her to cease her attempt at fleeing.

"It is time you suffer the consequences of your own actions." Your mother takes a fleeting glance at you before lifting her wand to point it at your girlfriend.

Taking large strides, you manage to put yourself in between Hermione and your mother, just before she gets the chance to utter the spell. You feel your girlfriend's firm grip on your arm as you continued to shield her with your body.

"No! Mother, please, don't." You plead, holding up your hand and she hesitates.

"I am sorry I have disappointed you. I am sorry I went against your wishes."

"But I will not– I cannot apologize for loving her." You hesitate as your voice trembles, but you speak the words anyway.

You hear a cackle from Bellatrix, grumbles and groans of disapproval coming from the Death Eaters gathered in the corner, and once again, you feel more exposed and deplorable than ever.

Your mother remains staring at you, this time with nothing but disdain.

"Love?" She scowls, almost like it disgusted her just to utter the word.

"In love with a mudblood?" Your mother's tone shifts, now incredulous and despondent.

She finally lowers her wand, only to strike you across the face with her other hand.

You hear a gasp from Hermione, but otherwise the room is silent, as you clutch your cheek in pain.

When you finally muster the courage to look at your mother her expression betrays no trace of regret.

"You are no child of mine." She utters, exasperated, and your heart shatters into a thousand pieces.

Tearing your eyes away they naturally fall on your father, standing a few paces behind.

You recognise a tenderness somewhere in his eyes, one you hadn't ever been awarded before. It's jarring and unfamiliar, it makes you want to weep.

"Step aside, y/n" Your mother says, lifting her wand again.

Perhaps it was pity, perhaps now your father was just as embarrassed as you are, or maybe, it is love that compels him to step forward, placing a gentle hand on your mother's shoulder.

"Darling, this is hardly the time or place." He attempts, but your mother doesn't move.

However, footsteps soon approach that causes all of you to shift your attention.

Draco can be seen entering the foyer with both of his parents, interrupting your altercation.

Your best friend pauses at the sight of you, evident concern etched across his face.

"Ah, Draco." Bellatrix acknowledges him and he's forced to look away from you.

The witch walks up to Harry, harshly gripping a handful of his hair to pull his head back, giving Draco a clear view of his face.

"Is it him?" Bellatrix asks expectantly, and the platinum haired boy couches in front of Harry.

"I can't be sure." Draco responds, dismissively.

His father then grips the back of his neck, harshly, and you observed as your best friend flinched under his touch.

You instinctively take a glance at your own parents. 

Your mother has since resumed her position next to your father, both of them deliberately avoiding your gaze, once again your chest constricts painfully.

Scabior is standing so close behind you and Hermione, too close, you can both feel his breath against the back of your necks.

"Look closely son." Lucius says.

"If we are the ones to deliver Potter to the Dark Lord, all will be forgiven." He adds, his voice low but it echoes through the large hall anyway.

"Now we won't be forgetting who actually caught him. I hope." Scabior states, finally stepping away from you.

"Mr Malfoy." He continues to antagonize, and it works to set the other man off.

"You dare talk to me like that in my own house?" Lucius raises his voice and Draco flinches again.

"Lucius." Narcissa finally steps forward, extending her arm to calm her husband.

Hermione remained clutching your arm, her grip only tightened the longer you stood watching the commotion before you.

Finally, none of the Death Eaters are in close proximity, so you decide it an opportunity to try and escape.

"We need to apparate." You manage to whisper to Hermione, reaching down to intertwine your fingers but your girlfriend shakes her head.

"We can't leave Harry." She responds and you sigh, defeated.

An answer you expected but it causes your anxiety to heighten anyway. You begin looking for another solution, another way to flee. 

"Now, if this isn't who we think it is and we call on him, he will kill us all. We need to be absolutely sure." Bellatrix warns.

"What's wrong with his face?" Draco finally asks with a scowl.

"Yes, what is wrong with his face?" The dark haired witch repeats.

Scabior shrugs.

"He came to us like that." He states simply.

"Something he picked up in the forest I reckon." Another snatcher chimes in.

"Ran into a stinging jinx.." Bellatrix quips.

"Was it you, dear?" She asks, pointing directly at Hermione.

You feel your heart stop as your girlfriend tenses next to you.

"Give me her wand, let's see what her last spell was." The witch orders, and the evident worry that flashes on both of your faces easily gives you away.

"Ah, I caught you." Bellatrix says pointing at the two of you, amidst a cackle.

"It appears your girlfriend is not as smart as she thinks she is." She taunts, looking directly at you, successfully earning a grimace.

You contemplate lunging at the other woman, but before you can act, she halts. 

She catches sight of the sword of Gryffindor proudly propped up, next to one of the snatcher's.

"Where did you get that from?" Bellatrix gasps.

"It was in her bag when we searched her, I reckon it's mine now." The snatcher responds with a grin.

Before any of you can comprehend it, Bellatrix sends the man flying into the wall with a single throw of a spell. She then points her wand at the other snatcher in the corner, taking him out too.

"Are you mad?" Scabior exclaims, but the wand pointed at his face in an instant, silences him immediately.

"Get out! Get out!" Bellatrix repeatedly shouts, and the band of snatchers scurry out of the hall, all fearing for their lives.

"Put the rest of them in the cellar." She exclaims, lifting Harry by the collar before grabbing Ron as well.

She shoves them hard enough that they fall by Wormtail's feet.

"I want to have a little conversation with this one." Bellatrix states. 

You feel Hermione get ripped from your side, and instinct kicks in.

"No, get your hands off her!" You exclaim, reaching out to grab her but Bellatrix swings her arm, you feel a harsh blow to the stomach that knocks the wind out of you, making you land on the ground as a result.

"Bella!" Her sister scolds, rushing to your side.

"Stop fighting, you will get yourself killed." Narcissa warns, you feel her firm hand on your shoulder as she forces you to stand next to her.

Before you can respond you feel another harsh grip on your collar attempting to drag you to the cellar with the boys.

"No, not her– I want her to watch this." Bellatrix states, gesturing for Wormtail to let you go, and he does.

All you can focus on is the way Bellatrix is handling Hermione, the sadistic smile as she does so, rough and thoughtless.

Your girlfriend looks terrified, and you feel utterly powerless.

She soon retrieves a dagger from her side, holding it up in front of Hermione's face.

"I will give you one chance to answer my question, before I start cutting." Bellatrix says.

Your head is now pounding, your abdomen still aches from the blow, your face stinging where your mother struck you.

Hermione attempts to make an escape but with one swift flick of Bellatrix's hand, she bounds your girlfriend's legs, causing her to fall onto the ground.

You watched as the witch got on top of her, pinning her down by her shoulders.

She then forcefully cuts through Hermione's sleeve with her blade, until enough of her arm was exposed.

"That sword was meant to be in my vault in Gringotts, how did you get it?" She asks, her face an inch away from Hermione's.

Your girlfriend is silent, beyond the whimper that falls out of her lips.

This seems to only urge Bellatrix to bring the tip of the dagger to Hermione's arm. The older witch begins dragging the blade down the exposed skin.

Hermione's sobs quickly morph into deafening screams and you don't feel anything beyond panic.

"It was me! I stole the sword, not her!" You raise your voice, hoping that it would be enough to take the attention of your girlfriend.

"Quiet! I am not asking you." Bellatrix retaliates, merely brushing you off like some pest.

Your eyes followed as she hovered the blade over Hermione's arm again. You see her blood trickling from her wound onto the wood underneath, and you feel sick.

"Please, I didn't take anything." Hermione pleads helplessly, and your chest aches so much you can barely breathe.

"I don't believe you." Bellatrix begins cutting again, this time she's laughing.

Deriving true pleasure from torturing Hermione, and you couldn't stand by and witness it any longer, you had to act.

Amidst your girlfriend's screams you manage to slip past Narcissa, stepping next to her son.

"Draco, give me my wand." You state firmly, as his hesitant stare meets your pleading one, he hands you your wand after a beat.

"Stop lying!" Bellatrix exclaims, you see her lower the blade down to Hermione's arm again and you don't allow yourself to think a moment longer.

You point your wand at the dark haired witch.

"Avada Kedavra!" You exclaimed, survival and wrath, your only goal was to save Hermione.

The bright green light shoots out from the tip of your wand, in an instant, the witch drops onto the ground with a large thud, motionless.

"Y/n, what did you just do–" You hear your mother exclaim but you don't acknowledge her, you refuse to.

Her shock, along with everyone else's; hangs in the air, mute but suffocating. 

Hermione is the first to come out of it, she sits up and you rush to her side.

With your arms around her you shut your eyes not half a second passes before you both disapparate, leaving your family behind.

-

You find yourself at the outskirts of Tinworth by Shell Cottage. The location you all agreed to meet at if anything went wrong. 

It was meant as a precaution, you never actually thought things could ever go this wrong.

Disowned by your parents.

Murdered another in cold blood.

Your girlfriend tortured and maimed.

"Hermione, it's alright, you're safe now." You state, carefully placing your hands on either side of the other girl's face.

Your girlfriend doesn't meet your gaze, scattered, her mind entirely elsewhere.

"Y/n, we have to go back, we have to help the boys–" She says, you stop her with a firm hand on her forearm before she can stand.

"No, Hermione! It's too dangerous. If we go back they will kill you." You say with a raised voice, unintentional, driven by your heightened emotions, but it works to get the other woman's attention.

"I can't– I can't lose you." Your voice shakes and Hermione finally looks at you.

An expression flashes across her face that tightens the knot in your stomach. 

She lets herself breathe and think, she realizes what you had done just moments prior, the significance, its implications.

"You killed her." Hermione states, more awe than contempt but you scramble to defend yourself anyway. 

Truth be told you don't know why you had reacted the way you did, you weren't even aware that you had it in you to begin with.

"I had to– sweetheart, she would have continued to hurt you if I didn't stop her." You stutter, but Hermione quickly silences you.

Her lips crash into yours, fervent, anguished, and eager. Your girlfriend's hand rests on the back of your neck, pulling even closer.

Hermione's clinging onto you; with no desire to let go of her lifeline, her love, the only reason she is still here, safe and alive.

You are forced to pull away as your lungs burn from the lack of air. 

"I will go back for them myself, promise me you'll wait for me here." You breathe out against Hermione's lips, your forehead resting against hers.

Before your girlfriend can even begin protesting you see Harry apparate in the distance. Closely followed by Ron and Luna.

The ginger haired boy is first to run to Hermione's side.

"Hermione, y/n. Are you alright?" Harry shouts, your girlfriend nods but you don't respond. Your eyes remain on the elf behind him.

You catch sight of Dobby, limping as he clutches his stomach.

"Harry Potter." The elf calls out, weak and frail.

Harry finally follows your gaze.

"Dobby." He says, sprinting to Dobby's side, and the elf collapses right into his arms.

You watched as a distressed Harry pulled something that seemed to have impaled the elf, he finally sets it on the sand next to him and your own stomach turns.

You immediately recognize the bloodied dagger. 

How can a single object cause so much damage? 

You feel your anger resurfacing, you regret not discarding the blade when you had the chance.

"Just hold on, okay?" Harry says as he tries to stop the bleeding, placing his hand over the wound.

"We'll fix you. Hermione will have something." He reassures before turning his attention towards her.

"In your bag– Hermione?" Harry pleads and your girlfriend merely clutches you tighter.

"Hermione." He repeats, desperate.

"Help me!" The man shouts, you hear your girlfriend let out a sob.

A barely audible "I'm sorry." before Hermione turns to embrace you, burying her face into the crook of your neck. 

An attempt to protect herself from the inevitable anguish; witnessing someone entirely undeserving of death, go out so painfully, abruptly.

"Such a beautiful place– to be with friends. Dobby is happy to be with his friend, Harry Potter." The elf mutters, and you are unable to stare any longer.

You make accidental eye contact with Ron, but for once there is a shared regard between the two of you. Grief, sadness, gratitude, acceptance.

The sheer helplessness Harry feels is shared amongst all of you as you watch the elf take his last breath in his arms.

You observed as Luna walked up to him, graciously shutting Dobby's eyes with her fingers.

Hermione remains in your arms, and you hold her close, having no intention of letting go.

"I want to bury him– properly. Without magic." Harry says, fighting back his sobs.

════════════════════════════════════════════

You are jolted awake once again out of a distressing dream. This time your girlfriend is not in bed next to you, you sit up abruptly in a panic.

"Hermione?" You call out, and the voice that responds almost immediately, swiftly eases your nerves.

"I'm here." Your girlfriend says, emerging through the doorway.

"I had to use the loo." She then explains, climbing back into bed. 

With the feeling of Hermione's head against your chest you can breathe again.

You spent most of the night lying awake, and when you did manage to find sleep you were merely tormented by nightmares. 

The encounter in Malfoy Manor could've gone much differently, in fact it could've ended horribly. You were so close to losing everything that mattered to you. You could only vow that you will never allow yourself to get that close again. 

Any relief you felt this morning derived from knowing your girlfriend at least managed to find some sleep herself. Clearly the events of yesterday took a toll on her, but she is resilient, as always, and you adore her for it.

"I'm sorry you had to leave your parents." Hermione says after a long silence.

"Don't be. Nothing good has ever come from me being around them." You state truthfully, threading your fingers through her hair, absentmindedly.

"You saw how they were." You add.

"I know, still, I'm sorry." Hermione repeats it anyway, lifting her head to place several kisses against your cheek, the same spot your mother had struck.

You then reach down, gently grazing her bandaged arm, soon lifting it up to place a tender kiss against it.

The look Hermione gives you in return makes your heart stop and beat faster in your chest all the same.

"You know, I fight so hard because of you." You admit, extending your arm to cup her jaw.

"I never had a reason before you." You add, your thumb stroking her cheek.

You watched as your girlfriend's eyes welled with tears, overwhelmed and consumed by adoration.

Hermione finally leans in, capturing your lips with her own. The kiss snatches the air right out of your lungs, but you don't care. You'd never wish for it to end.

She finally pulls away only slightly before resting her forehead against yours.

"I love you, y/n. So much, more than you'll ever truly know." Hermione says, and the pleasant fluttering that travels throughout your entire body translates to an easy smile on your lips.

[lululawrence]

Sus' 40 to 40 Countdown: 15 Days

I don't know why, but it feels like a big deal to have gotten this far in this silly countdown idea I had with my fics. Thank you to the anon who gave me the ideas for the themed recs and those of you who were supportive of me being out here and stupidly self indulgent leading up to my big 40 birthday lol I hope you aren't regretting it now hahaha! Today's rec is actually dedicated to that lovely anon because the theme is...

Fics That Inspired My Favorite Interactions with Readers

That's Not My Name - Harry/Louis (meet cute, uni, coffee shop)

The one where the cute boy coming into the coffee shop gives Louis a different name every time…for over a month.

(I'm Dreaming of a) One Night Inn - Harry/Louis (advent fic, Holiday Inn AU, famous/non-famous, hurt/comfort, Christmas and other holidays)

When everything Louis had planned for his life falls through, and on his birthday no less, he's left with no other option but to regroup and start over again. The road of life isn't always straight and it certainly isn't always easy, but sometimes it's those twists and turns that find you your closest friends and—if you're really lucky—the love of your life.

Louis just happens to be very lucky.

A Holiday Inn AU.

Need So Much Of You - Harry/Louis (fake relationship, would have been canon compliant thanks covid, famous/famous, friends to lovers, coming out)

The would-have-been canon compliant, fake relationship, friends with benefits, friends to lovers fic where Louis wonders if this thing going on with Harry is going to break him or change everything for the better.

Caught In Your Gravity - Harry/Louis (footballer Louis, coach Harry, friends to lovers, secret relationship, lots of footie, humor, banter)

An AU inspired by a 30 second trailer of Ted Lasso that doesn't actually have much in common with the show at all.

I Just Wanna Give You Love - Harry/Louis (famous/non-famous, soulmates)

The one where the world is in black and white until you meet your soulmate, but Harry is world famous and Louis is…well…not.

All 40 to 40 Countdown Posts

[strawbsstarz]

Rewrite the Stars: Draco Malfoy x reader

inspired by the song from greatest showman lol, had this idea stuck in my head for months, but i feel like i didn't give it any justice though. so sorry that it's poorly written but enjoy ^^

Warning: Angst

Pt 2 HERE

~~

Never in a million years had you expected to be hooking up with the one and only Draco Malfoy, I mean, why would you? There was nothing good to his name other than his money, his face, and his hair and smile, and his laugh, and how easy it was to tease him and the way- okay maybe there was a couple things that you enjoyed about him.

Okay fine, he's attractive, but that's it! Looking at his pretty face from afar was enough, hearing his snarky comments about something stupid will only ruin the experience for you, at least, that's what you thought.

You were content with that, with only watching from afar, because, let's be honest, if people found out about you, a Gryffindor, someone who was acquainted with Harry Potter himself, aka Draco Malfoy's rival, was even slightly attracted to the Prince of Slytherin, imagine the rumors.

Imagine the questions from your friends. Oh merlin, you could practically hear the interrogation: "Y/N, out of all the guys in school why Malfoy? He's a total ass to everyone!" or something along those lines, and they're right, why Malfoy?

Truth is you don't even know, you just thought he was cute. It's normal for teenagers to find the opposite sex attractive, so no biggie, right?

Lucky for you, or unlucky, depending on how you look at it, he was also attracted to you. At the end of year 5, you two had a moment with one another as you cleaned a classroom during detention. You had accidentally slipped on the wet floor and he had caught you.

Long story short, you had ended up kissing on accident and it turned into a clumsy confession. After that, there was a lot of lingering tension between the two of you, people assumed it was just the rivalry between your houses. Oh boy was it far from that. There were many instances where you two would sneak off during passing periods to snog in a broom cupboard somewhere, and it was normal, teenagers being teenagers.

Year 6 felt more intimate. Other than sneaking off to snog somewhere, you two would find yourselves sneaking out in the middle of the night to meet at the Astronomy Tower to just- talk.

It was comforting. Unknowingly, you had found comfort in his presence, and sooner or later, you would realize your growing feelings for the boy. To you, all the stolen kisses and glances meant something more compared to how it started. All the talks about life, family and everything. After realizing your growing crush, you told yourself consistently that this was enough, whatever you had now, was enough.

You two had never talked about what you were. There was some sort of unspoken rule between you two. It was a secret, this was a secret. It was a fun and thrilling one at that, but sometimes, you found yourself wanting more.

You knew about his family and their pureblood views, you knew about the rumors regarding with their relations with you-know-who, you knew how your friends would react, the hesitancy of your own family about the idea of it and sure, you were scared, hell you were petrified but the idea of it was- nice? For a lack of a better word.

Neither of you were dumb. You both knew what you felt for the other. You had long noticed how he would hold you a little tighter, or kiss you a little longer than when he did in the beginning, it no longer felt purely physical and learning things with each other. You had noticed that whenever you would show him something you liked from the muggle world, despite his complaints, he would listen to every word you say intently, and from the corner of your eye, you would notice him smiling and staring at you.

"What are we?" You asked one night as you both stood at the Astronomy Tower, stargazing.

"We're wizards" He snorted as he leaned against the railing, his head looking up at the sky. You nudged his arm and scoffed,

"No you twat, I mean," you bit your lip, "what are we?"

His mouth forms an o-shaped, and silence falls between you two. It wasn't the comfortable silence you were used to, it wasn't the your-presence-is-enough type of silence. It was the type of silence where it was awkward and it made your heart beat fast with uncertainty. Was it a bad idea to ask? Should you tell him you were messing with him? "Hey! I was just joking! Ha! I got you!"

"We're... us...." He finally says. You debated on whether or not you were content with that answer, but you decide to push the topic further.

"And what exactly is us?" You lowered your head as you began playing with your fingers.

Another pause, this time even longer, and the silence was unbearable.

"Y/N..." His tone was soft, and it was gentle. It was as if he was treading lightly on the subject you two had never talked about, "You know what we are..."

Your focus continued on the way your fingers moved, "And what if..I want something more than what we are?"

He sighs, and looks down at his hands, opening and closing. It was a topic he dreaded to talk about. He knew it would be brought up at some point, but he wasn't ready to face the reality yet. He wasn't ready to step out of the comforts of the Astronomy Tower, a place that held such dear memories for the both of you. He had hoped and prayed that whatever you two had going on would stay as it is, a secret. His left forearm burned from the thoughts running in his head. He envisioned nothing but heartbreak from your relationship.

He knew what lied ahead for the two of you, and that's why he desperately tried to keep you as private as possible. He was reckless in the beginning, because truth be told, he originally didn't plan for it to go this far. He never planned to fall in love with you. He never planned this feeling in his chest to grow.

"I know about your parents, and I know about the things you're expected of. I know about the control you don't have in your life, but is it possible for me to expect something? From..from you?" You stuttered, unsure of how to approach him.

Everything stills, and you search for emotion in his eyes. Oh how he wished to tell you everything, everything that had happened in the summer, everything that happened to him, but he knows he shouldn't. He can't bring himself to tell you, because it will only put you in danger. He can't tell you because he wants to keep you safe, he needs you to be safe. You're his safe haven. All the moments you spent together is his way of escaping the dreadful reality he's now forced to live in. Every moment with you is like a dream to him, and if that dream and reality were to one day meet, how will he be able to handle the things that could happen? that would happen?

"It's not written in the stars for us..." He exhales and his eyes can't seem to look at you. You avoid each other, continuing to look far off in the distance of the sky. "It's hard...to imagine us...as more. I never really saw us becoming more than....more than what we are now.." He lied.

Of course he doesn't see himself having a future with someone muggle born, you thought to yourself. You knew that one of the many things that would keep you both apart was your blood status. You knew from the beginning, but that didn't make the pain any less than it was. Your mind began to overthink about all the reason why this wouldn't work, all the insecurities you've had began clouding your thoughts. So many reasons had popped in your head. If he could only read your mind, he would flick your forehead and tell you that all those reasons were absurd. If he wasn't caught up in the middle of his parent's decisions, he would say that he doesn't care about the blood status, he doesn't care about the lives both of you used to lead, he doesn't care about all of it, because he'll always choose you. He'll choose to fight it all for you, with you.

"The cards we've been dealt with in this lifetime, Y/N, it's really not fair. Faith will only continue to pull us away from each other." He turns his head to you, and you catch the look in his eyes, a hint of sadness displayed on his face.

"What if I decide against that? Against faith? Against destiny?" You stood up straight, your vision getting glassy. "Shouldn't we at least try?"

"It's not that easy," He starts, "there's nothing I would love more than- than to be with you." He takes your face in his hands and pulls you in closer, your foreheads touching. You melt in his embrace, your own hand cupping his. "But we can't, Y/N. There's just some doors we can't walk through."

You're eyes began to water, and you regret ever asking. How could you be so stupid? How could you be so selfish and ruin something that should already be enough? Your greed had gotten the best of you.

"What if we rewrite the stars? Draco, it's up to me and you. No one can decide what we do or how we should feel." You cry wetting his hands. He smiles softly and wipes your tears away.

"Love, I know you're wondering why because within these walls, we can be who we want to be..but I know that when we go outside- outside this place, we're gonna be heartbroken and devastated-"

"Because it's hopeless?" You cut him off. You were upset, and you knew he felt the same way too, but it angered you. It angered you how he was willing to give up without even trying, without even fighting for it.

He purses his lips, "You know I want you, but I can't...We're bound to break and my hands are tied, there's just a lot of things that are out of my control.."

"So what? Malfoy, don't tell me you're giving up?" You pushed him away, taking a step back as tears rolled down on your face, "Was it all in my head? Everything we've done? Did it not mean to you as much as it did to me? Is- Is there something I'm missing here?"

His heart quickens at the questions, he's fighting a war with himself, whether or not to tell you why. He wanted to clear up this misunderstanding. if only you knew.

"Y/N..." He tries to reach out for you but you took a step back once again.

"I don't understand why..why-" You choked on your tears, wiping it with your robe, as you began to walk past him intending to leave the tower. The serenity of the night and the cold breeze had began to suffocate you, "You're more of a coward than I thought you were."

He couldn't bring himself to run after you. He couldn't even look at you as you left. His body was frozen. His feet was planted right where you left him, and his heart ached with grief. He knew this was for the best, this was the right choice, he tries to convince himself. He knew that eventually his actions would catch up to him, that it might lead to your endangerment. It's good that it ends now rather than later, but he hated the way you left, hates the way it has to end this way. Even though he wanted to call out to you, to tell you the truth, that he was madly in love with you. Even though he wanted to tell you that; you were worth fighting for, he knows he shouldn't. With the impending war, he holds himself back and it's all for you, even if you don't know it. All of this was so that you wouldn't have to see him as one of them. All of this is to keep you safe, and alive. As long as you're alive, he thinks. All of this is all for you.

[hjparisian]

bad idea right?- harry j potter x reader

p: ex! harry j potter x fem!reader w: modern au (phones exist at hogwarts dont question how), everyone is friends, small mentions of drinking and smoking, slight sexual implications (no smut) summary: (y/n) and harry have been broken up for a while now. while at a party (y/n) gets a message from harry asking her to come over. its a bad idea, right? a/n: based on the song by olivia rodrigo, which has been living in my head rent free and brought my first idea in weeks. currently trying to get through a few requests and ylm part II and seeing what'll happen from there. also im on pinterest and tik tok so come find me (has nothing posted on either lol)

There was nothing like a good old party after the Quidditch games. This game was between Hufflepuff and Slytherin, the latter being victorious, which meant the Slytherins would be hosting the party. All the houses were invited.

(Y/N) sat on the couch with Hermione, Pansy, Daphne, and Cho, a drink in her hand. She had tuned out what the girls were chatting about, observing the surroundings of the party. From the people dancing, couples making out, people taking shots and smoking, and Ron doing a keg stand with Blaise and Theo, Draco laughing at them from the side.

(Y/N)'s thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing of her phone, which had also caught the attention of her friends. She picked it up to see who it was. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately to her, it was her ex-boyfriend. Harry.

5 missed calls

hey

feeling a bit bored rn

no ones at the dorm right now

come over?

"Who is it?" Cho asked.

"Oh erm, no one important," (Y/N) said.

"Well your phone was buzzing for a good minute until you finally picked up so it has to be someone important," Daphne chimed.

"Really it's no one," (Y/N) tried telling them.

At that moment, Pansy took (Y/N)'s phone out her hand and looked at it.

"Yeah no one important, unless it's your ex Harry fucking Potter wanting to see you tonight!" Pansy said. The girls gasped.

"Harry?" Hermione asked. "Harry's texting you? But you guys haven't spoken in a couple of months."

"Yeah, I know," (Y/N) said.

"How come Harry isn't here anyways? Doesn't he usually go to parties with Ron?" Daphne asked.

"Said he didn't feel like it," Hermione told her.

"Well, are you gonna do it?" asked Pansy.

"Do what?" (Y/N) asked.

"You know, see him?"

Cho chimed in. "Oh (Y/N), I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Yeah, that would be a bad idea, he is your ex after all," said Daphne.

"I never said whether I was going to or not!" (Y/N) exclaimed. "And if I were why would it matter? I know he's my ex but can't two people reconnect?"

"Well, they could," Hermione started saying. "But a lot of the times it doesn't work out."

"Besides," Pansy starts. "There's a bunch of other men out there waiting to have a chance with you. Men hotter than Potter."

(Y/N) didn't know whether to agree or disagree with Pansy. Well sure, there's other men out that there that could be more attractive than Harry, but there's just something about him that draws her to him.

"Okay, okay! I only see Harry as a friend anyways. Also we're at a Slytherin party right now and I'd much rather be getting drunk with you guys than continue this." (Y/N) told them.

Her words rang in her head as she took a shot that Pansy brought her. Does she really only see Harry as a friend? Or is that a lie?

The temptation to see Harry was only getting stronger with each drink she took. It wouldn't be a horrible idea to visit Harry right? They probably wouldn't do anything anyways so what's the harm?

While the girls weren't paying attention, she texted Harry back, telling him she would be over in a little bit. It didn't take long for Harry to get back to her.

cool, see you soon then

(Y/N) waited until the girls were done with another round of drinks, hoping to be unsuspecting with her need to leave.

"I think I'm going to head to bed, I'm feeling a little bit tired," she said.

"Already?" Pansy asked. "Come on we're having fun!"

"Pansy, leave the girl be. It is starting to get a little late anyways," Daphne said to her fellow Slytherin.

"Do you want me to walk you to your dorm?" Hermione asked her, being one of the more sober people of the group.

"No! No I'll be alright. I'll see you guys tomorrow though alright?" (Y/N) said as she wave goodbye to her friends.

Once she exited the Slytherin common room, she quietly made her way towards the Gryffindor common room. Curse Harry for being a Gryffindor and making her walk so far, but it'll be worth it, at least that's what she's thinking.

(Y/N) finally made it to the entrance of the common room without any setbacks. The Fat Lady had woken up from the sound of her footsteps.

"Password?"

"Quid Agis," (Y/N) said, having remembered the password from when she visited Hermione earlier in the week.

The portrait opened and (Y/N) walked in. The common room was empty, most likely due to the party as well as it being late in the night. She made her way to Harry's dorm, memorized where it was due to the countless times she's gone over.

The girl knocked on the door before going to grab the door knob, but the door had opened before she could. In front of her stood her ex-boyfriend in sweats and a black shirt, contrasting her party dress she wore tonight.

"Hey," Harry said to (Y/N) when she walked in, closing the door behind her.

"Hi," (Y/N) shyly said. It was a bit awkward being in Harry's dorm, considering the last time she was there was a few months ago, before their break up.

Harry guided (Y/N) to his bed, the two sitting at the edge. She could feel Harry's eyes taking her in. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't doing the same just before.

"So you came from the party I assume?" Harry asked.

(Y/N) nodded.

"How was it?"

"Good. You know how Slytherin parties are." The girl said. "Exciting. A lot of drinks."

"Do your friends know you're here?" Harry asks her.

"No." (Y/N) felt a hand touching her thigh.

"Where do they think you're at?" Harry asks her. "They think I'm in bed right now." She said. But she never specified whose bed.

A faint hum of acknowledgement came from Harry as he began rubbing her thigh, his hand slowly getting higher and higher.

"You know, I've missed you a lot (Y/N)."

(Y/N) could feel her heart racing at Harry's sudden confession. "Really? I've sorta missed you too." She didn't know if it was the alcohol talking that made her say that or what, but something made her want to see where this was going.

A small smirk appeared on Harry's face before he brought the girl to his lap. His eyes flickered from her eyes to her lips.

"How about I show you how much I've missed you?"

This definitely was not going to be a bad idea, right?