#luna and harry :((( my little sillies

[royalthorned]

[lunar-serpentinite]

ill never stop thinking abt luna-harry friendship i love my lil oddballs who do silly things together and disconnect from the world to go and look for whimsical things in the woods. i just think being around luna lets harry reexperience the wonders of life that he never had the luxury to experience, while luna gets a kindred soul and enthusiastic participant of her adventures in harry. my little sillies go on long nature hikes for days on end.

luna chattering away about the creatures they could find within the trees and beneath the foliage. harry listening along and chiming in about muggle folklore creatures that have similarities w luna's own creatures. sometimes they go on for hours without a word exchanged between the two of them bc they are listening to the whispers of the wind and wood.

my sillies :(

[cold-blanket]

I've been getting back into My Little Pony, and you can't go wrong with a good crossover!

I haven't drawn ponies in like 8 years but drawing them unlocked a hidden part of my brain and now I'm like

[moonstruckme]

just finished a rewatch of ootp and i forgot how cute luna and harry’s friendship is!! had me start thinking about what a james potter x luna lovegood-esque reader relationship would look like and i RAN to your ask because i just have to see what your take on it would be! love love LOVE ur writing, no pressure to write this tho if the inspo doesn’t hit!! thank u lovely <333

I forget how sweet they are all the time too! Thanks for requesting honey <3

James Potter x whimsical!reader ♡ 986 words

James comes home to find all of his pants on the floor. 

“Unless I’ve started sleepwalking,” he says, and you look up at the sound of his voice from where you’re crouched next to one pair of jeans, apparently digging through his pockets, “I’m fairly sure I put these away after I took them out of the dryer last night.” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” you reassure him in that quiet, breezy way of yours. “You did. If you were sleepwalking, I would tell you.” 

James waits a second for you to elaborate, then realizes how foolish that is of him. “Then what are they all doing on the floor, my love?” 

“It’s the first day of the waxing moon.” Coins clink in your palm as you remove it from his pocket, and then—to James surprise—simply submerge your hand in the opposite pocket, dropping the change in. “You keep a lot of money in your pants, did you know? It’s lucky the dryer didn’t shake it all out.” 

Actually, he had found a few coins after taking out his laundry the night before, but apparently there’s still some left over in his deep pockets. “What does the moon have to do with anything? And are you robbing me? If so, you’re doing a horrible job, sweetheart.” 

You sit back, setting your bum on your heels, and smile at him in that indulgent way you do when you think he’s being silly. It emits a soft glow, and James can’t help but squat in front of you, pecking you on the lips in belated greeting. 

You kiss him back without complaint, lips soft and pliant and curved against his. “You switch your coins to the opposite pocket for good fortune during the waxing moon, Jamie. You can’t tell me you haven’t done it before.” 

“I can tell you most certainly that I haven’t,” he promises, tucking a hand behind your ear to cradle your head. You lean into the touch absentmindedly even as your lips draw into a little frown. 

“Then how did your family get to be so rich?” you muse softly. 

It takes some effort for James to smother the laughter that rises in his chest, turning it into a pensive hum. “I suppose they might’ve always known and just kept it a secret from me. My mum did say she wanted me to make my own way in the world.” 

“Oh.” You nod, certainty restored to your countenance. “That’s it, then. Not very considerate of them not to give you the tools for success, but I suppose every parent has their own ideas about those things.” 

James only hums again, lips curving of their own volition. “Anything else we need to do tonight to accommodate the waxing moon, darling?” 

You laugh, the sound light and lovely as the tinkling of wind chimes. “Jamie, the waxing moon lasts for fourteen days. We’ve got two weeks for everything we want to do.” 

“Oh, how silly of me.” He grins at you, stealing another quick kiss. “Everything, you say? What might that be?” 

“Well,” you say, returning to your task with the next pair of pants closest to you, “the waxing moon helps draw good things toward you. Like fortune” —you hold up a sparse palmful of coins for him to see before transferring them to the other pocket— “or a good harvest, or new love, or new job—didn’t you say you were thinking about asking for a promotion? This would be a good time.” 

“Maybe,” James replies with due consideration, but truly his mind has gotten snagged on one idea and not let go. “Love, eh?” He grins at you, reaching to wrap his hands around your waist and sliding you across the floor to him. “Should I be prepared to feel extra besotted for the next couple of weeks?” You smile and lean your head onto his shoulder to look up at him, going lax in his embrace. You’re a rather placid thing by nature, but he knows you secretly love it when he manhandles you like this. You go all soft and cloudy-eyed, and even now, you certainly seem far from scolding him for interrupting your task. “I’m pretty far gone already,” he says, just to hammer it home, “so I’m not sure how much worse it can get.” 

He’s rewarded with a light flush across the tops of your cheekbones. “It’s new love, Jamie,” you correct him. “The waxing moon doesn’t affect love that already exists.” 

“Oh, I see.” He narrows his eyes down at you. “So this is your opportunity to ditch me for some new bloke, is that it?” 

The adoration doesn’t leave your gaze, but you shrug. “I’m not manifesting that, so I suppose it’s up to the moon to decide.” 

Some of the levity leaves him. “Wait, so if some other guy said he was drawn to you by the waxing moon, you’d consider it?” 

You let your head weigh heavily on his shoulder, pursing your lips slightly in contemplation. “I suppose I’d at least hear him out. It’s powerful magic during this time, you know? I’d at least be curious what drew him. Or them, you never know.” 

Now James is the one who’s frowning. “That’s not very reassuring, sweetheart.” 

You seem to come back to yourself, eyes focussing on his again and a small smile returning to your lips. “Don’t worry, Jamie.” You lean up to kiss him before slipping free of his hold, going to find another pair of jeans to dig through. “I’d obviously wait until the clarity of the full moon to decide on anything.” 

“Obviously,” James echoes, feeling somewhat dazed as he stands. “Um, angel? If you meet someone who tells you the moon sent them to you, would you at least let me know? I think if I tell Sirius about it, you may find they don’t stick around until the full moon anyway.” 

[geesenoises]

DnD: dungeons and draco

for @quail-in-red. this is just further proof that if anybody shows even the slightest interest in one of my dumb jokes, i crumble and perform like a silly jester at once. based on this post i made last year and rediscovered today about hp wizards playing DnD.

Dean didn’t give a lot of details when he invited Harry to his weekly dungeons and dragons game, but the last person Harry expected to see at the table was Draco Malfoy.

“We started a game together when we were, er,” Dean trailed off.

“When we were prisoners in Draco's house!” Luna finished for him brightly.

Malfoy didn’t say anything, just met Harry’s eyes stolidly and then went to fuss with the small pile of papers and cards in front of him.

Harry shared a look with Ron, who was already sitting between Dean and Hermione, and then sighed inwardly and took the last remaining seat between Seamus and Luna. He pulled out the premade character sheet Dean had owled him last week. It was wrinkled from having nearly been lost in a pile of post and then hastily shoved in Harry’s pocket before flooing to Dean’s flat. 

Harry looked around the table. Malfoy’s stack of papers was bigger than anyone else’s, even Hermione’s. And why did he have so many cards? There was a little wooden tray in front of him too. The dice in the tray looked iridescent, catching and reflecting the light. Trust Malfoy to have expensive poncy accessories. Why was he even here? Did he even like DnD? He’d grown up around magic his whole life; what did he need to pretend for?

“And so let’s go around and introduce our characters,” Dean finished. Harry had missed his whole introduction. “Since Draco and Luna have played before, we’ll start with them.”

Malfoy straightened up a little, carefully picking up his character sheet even though it seemed like he was so familiar with it, he didn’t need to reference it. “I’m Mike, a level three call center operator. I’m twenty-three years old, originally from Essex and just moved to London. I played football in uni, but am feeling less fit now that I have a job where I sit all day.”

Luna went next and spoke in a surprisingly deep voice. “My name is Archie, and I’m a level six IT consultant. I’m forty-six years old, originally from Norwich, but I moved to London for uni and never left. I’ve been married to my wife, Evelyn, for twenty years and we have two children and a cocker spaniel named Rosa.”

Harry stared down at the character sheet in front of him. He hadn’t looked at it before grabbing it in his rush to get here on time. It told him he was meant to be playing Grace, a 29 year old paramedic who’d grown up in London and recently broken up with her fiance after finding out he had cheated on her. She had a cat named Pomegranate. Harry didn’t know much about tabletop games, but there had been a group of kids that Dudley’s gang would sometimes target instead of Harry who had played. And what he’d overhead from their games didn’t sound anything like this.

“Hang on, these are just normal people; we’re all humans with muggle jobs. I thought we were playing dungeons and dragons, you know, with magic involved.”

Malfoy glared at him. “Weren’t you paying attention, Potter? Dean just explained the premise of our campaign.”

Harry didn’t want to admit to Malfoy he’d been too busy wondering what his dice were made of. He looked away from Malfoy to Dean. “Er, sorry. I was… distracted.”

Dean sighed but looked more resigned than irritated at having to explain again. “When I started the game with Draco and Luna, they got confused by the magic system because actual magic doesn’t work the way it does in DnD, so I made up a slightly different game we could play. We’re a group of Londoners in a recreational dodgeball league.”

“And honestly, Harry, it doesn’t feel right pretending to be of magical creature heritage for a game,” Hermione added. “Think of what kind of hurtful stereotypes we could fall into.”

“Okay…” Harry said slowly. It still felt strange, but now that he thought about it, he supposed he didn’t need to spend his Thursday evenings pretending to be part of a group camping out and hunting evil. Once per lifetime was enough without having to do it recreationally in the realm of imagination.

Harry smoothed out his character sheet again and introduced the group to Grace.

not sure if there will be more, but we're all shipping mike/grace right?

[harrysmmm]

hello, love! i originally put this in the comments but it might get lost in your notifications. anyway, if you are up for it, do you mind writing a second part for magically annoying? i need jealous draco 😩 anyway, if you do it may you please tag me in the comments or something so i am brought back and dont forget? thanks so much! dont feel pressured to write it 🩷🫶🏻

have a wonderful and lovely day/night <3

thank you love for the inbox! hope you like it !!! ♡

Draco Malfoy x Y/N (f!reader)

Setting: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Summary: where Harry and Draco have a crush on you at the same time and they both ask you to the yule ball. (part two)

part 1

W/C: 2.4K

Taglist: @mrsmikaelsxn @Iail1010

masterlist here

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴀɴɴᴏʏɪɴɢ - ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

Mixed feelings. That’s how you would describe the way you felt at that moment.

You were staring at yourself in the mirror. A long velvet dress was framing your body, embellishing every edge, every curve of it. Your shoulders were naked, leaving your collarbones with no room for imagination. You paired up the dress with cream high-heels that matched your hand purse.

“I swear this pin on my hair won’t stay put,” Hermione said from the other side of the room.

“I can’t believe you don’t have a spell for that, Hermione,” you teased a little bit.

“There’s no reason for a spell for hair, Y/N.” She approached your mirror and stood next to you. “Besides, I’ve tried to cast one and it’s not possible.”

“Are you guys talking about hair spells?” Luna Lovegood was standing at the doorframe of your dormitory. How the hell did she get in the Gryffindor common room? “I know a bunch of them. I made these two-side ponytails with one of them.”

“Well… you shouldn’t be here Luna!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Cool it off,” you advised here.

“I mean, this is the Gryffindor area. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Neville let me in. I’m going with him to the ball. Apparently, Ginny ditched on him. How curious, I thought she was after him, but guess she’s not.”

“Well, you look stunning, Luna,” you added. She did look pretty, in her own way. She was wearing an aluminium dress, or that’s what it looked like, coupled with hanging balls of cotton on the edges. Her face was decorated with shiny, glittery makeup.

“Thank you, Y/N. Your dress is really pretty, it highlights your body. I’m sure Harry is going to think the same.”

The name had been dropped. Harry. Harry Potter. Harry Bloody Potter. That was your date to the ball. After the incident with Malfoy, Harry was by far your safest bet. And besides, he did ask you first.

You had spent those past few weeks thinking how, when the moment would come, you wouldn’t think about the incident with Malfoy.

How you would not think about his eyes staring into yours with your wand up.

You would not think about him getting closer with a smirk on his face.

Not think about his eyes going up and down your body.

Think about his hand making contact with your waist.

His lips painfully slow when brushing yours.

His lips.

Draco Malfoy.

It was going to go downhill.

It was tradition that boys would get to the entrance first. They would all be waiting for their ladies to go down the stairs, greet them with a soft kiss on their hand, and show them to the Great Hall.

Hermione and Luna had already left - you were still passing your fingers through your hair in an attempt of putting it together. Although your hair was already in its place, you needed an outlet to where to put your twisting feelings on.

You stared at yourself in the mirror again.

Why bloody Malfoy? Why him?

While you were trying to find an answer to the rhetorical question a silly smile got in your face.

No. No. No.

You were giggling like a twelve-year-old with a crush on another twelve-year-old. Pathetic.

Besides, the thought of him didn’t deserve any of your time. The butthead hadn’t even looked at you since the incident. In fact, his little pranks had become even more annoying, even more personal, if that could ever happen. He had faked a letter from Professor Snape that had put on your desk in Charms class. The letter described as followed:

“Miss Y/L/N, Your scores on the test about deadly potion mixing have been the lowest I have ever seen in all my teaching years in this school. I’m afraid you will be suspended in advance and hope to pass next semester. I won’t tolerate a Gryffindor mocking my course, nor my teaching methods. I must take 30 points off Gryffindor. Yours sincerely, Professor Snape P.S. the same applies to Potter. Also the points.”

You teared up that day. And if it wasn’t enough, when you went to see Snape and found out it was fake, he took ten points off Gryffindor for being so naive and believing it was true. He also took ten points off on Harry, for being, once again, mingled in the sauce.

And putting everything aside, you couldn’t lie to yourself and pretend you weren’t going to look for his face that night. You couldn’t pretend you were not going to wonder about what would’ve happened if you had said yes to him. How you would slow dance together; how everyone would think you were the most unthinkable couple, but that deep down you were killing the game.

You brushed all of those feeling off, looking at yourself in the mirror forcing it to be the last time. You turned around and headed to the stairs before the ball began.

Harry was patiently waiting for you. He had been looking on and off to the stairs since girls started to come down. He was really nervous about the whole situation and for the first time, it didn’t have to do with him being the centre of attention as one of the champions of the Triwizard Tournament. He was nervous because of you. He had been wanting to ask you out since the beginning of the course, but never had the guts to do it, knowing that a friendship was at stake. The moment you said yes to him after dinner, his belly exploded in thousands of butterflies, and he promised himself that he would try to act as a gentleman for you that night. Because you were the most lovable person he had ever met.

Suddenly, you made the entrance on the stairs. His gaze immediately went to you - how your hair fell perfectly from your shoulders; how the tale of the dress would follow your steps when you went down; how your eyes would magically swing between the stair steps and him. He was taken by the view. Once you had come down, he greeted you with his arm.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

He wanted to say how good you looked. He wanted to, but something blocked his throat, and he was almost unable to speak.

“Hum… you… hum… shall we?”

You got the hint. “We shall.”

You two got in the line of the champions, who as tradition, entered the ball first and opened it with the first dance. While McGonagall was counting you to make sure everyone was at their place, you scanned the room looking for a certain bleached one.

There you found him.

He had his arms crossed with Pansy Parkinson’s. He was gracefully talking to a Durmstrang student as if it was a sort of haute-classe yearly networking party. You hated how he seemed so unbothered, so natural. He looked naturally happy. You hated it because all you could do was fake.

You decided you were going to give him a little bit of a show.

The trumpets started echoing and everyone stood in both sides of the Great Hall, except the champions and their partners who were waiting for the sign to walk up to the dance floor. When McGonagall gave the green flag, the line started to move, every couple having their arms crossed with one another. You decided to hold Harry’s hand. He looked surprised at you but didn’t move his. You were walking down the aisle, most people noticing the subtlety of your tangled hands. You peripherally looked at Draco, and noticed he had a blank expression on his face when you passed next to him. Was that jealousy? Indifference? Oblivion? You couldn’t keep thinking of interpretations when Harry’s hand got to your waist, beginning just like that the first dance of the ball. You gracefully moved with him, having internalized the compass weeks prior. You swung from one side to the other for exactly three minutes and forty-six seconds when you stopped the dance, and everyone clapped. Harry’s eyes were mesmerized on yours, seeming oblivious to what was happening on the outside.

“Y/N, I-” He started a sentence, but he rapidly stopped talking, getting closer and closer as seconds went by.

Was he going to…? You couldn’t succumb to that happening.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” And just like that, you left the dance floor in everyone’s eyes.

You got in one of the cubicles of the restroom. You locked the door behind you and melted on the floor. You were so conflicted… why all of a sudden did Harry have so much interest in you? And why did Malfoy tell you all those things a month ago and didn’t even lock his eyes with yours since?

“Y/N?”

It was Hermione’s voice.

“Yeah, here,” you replied, getting up.

“You okay?,” she said.

“Yeah, just a sec.”

You flushed to pretend and got out of the toilet.

“You don’t look okay.” Hermione knew you all too well.

“Just a little overwhelmed, that’s all.”

“Did the people overwhelm you or did Harry do it?”

You waited a few seconds to reply. “Both.”

“About the people, the hardest part already ended, we already opened the ball. About Harry, you should hint him that you don’t feel the same.”

“I don’t want to hurt him.”

“It’s inevitable. Sooner rather than later.”

She didn’t know about Draco. You hadn’t told a soul about what happened. Mostly because you didn’t understand it yourself, but also because keeping it a secret made it more exciting – it was like your chocolate sweet before bedtime. You wanted it all to yourself.

You went over to the sink and started washing your hands.

“And you with Viktor? Have you two talked a bit?”

“Well, he doesn’t really talk. In fact, he doesn’t talk at all.”

“Stunning,” you replied.

She grinned back at you.

You both exited the bathroom and went to both your respective dates. You saw Harry sitting down on one of the tables, talking to Ron. You joined them.

“Hey, sorry for earlier.”

“Hey. No, it’s fine. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, no worries.”

“You wanna dance, maybe?”

“Sure.”

He gave you his hand and showed you to the dancefloor. A lively rock song was being played and both of you started moving to the rhythm, having fun more than dancing. That was until you looked at your left and saw that someone couldn’t stop staring at you. You and Draco locked eyes with each other while he was also dancing with Pansy.

He put his hand on her waist.

You placed your arms around Harry’s neck.

He pulled Pansy closer to him.

You slowly got closer to Harry’s face.

That was until Harry cut the scene.

“You wanna go for drinks?”

You were surprised. Wasn’t he into you? Why was he not adhering to what was happening, even if you weren’t technically doing it to him?

“Okay,” you replied.

You both exited the dancefloor and headed to the drinks counter. He served you some punch.

“Y/N, I-”

“Mr. Potter,” McGonagall blurted, “you must come with the other champions for the ceremonial speech.”

“The ceremonial wha-”

“Come, come. There’s no time,”

He looked at you one last time before being swollen by McGonagall’s anxiety. You looked at him leaving until someone disturbed your moment.

“No more boyfriend, Y/L/N?” Draco’s voice made an alarm in your heart go on.

You looked right at him. “I could ask the same thing.”

He smirked at you.

“What are you drinking?”

“Why do you care?”

“Woo-hoo, you were swollen by a dementor or what?”

“So funny, aren’t you?”

“So pissy. It’s because Potter left you?”

“You know, you sound like a kindergarten.” You stopped looking at him and drank more of the punch.

“Now that your boyfriend left, what you doing tonight?”

“What do you mean? We’re in a ball.”

“I stick to my question.”

You sighed. “I will stay at the ball until I’m tired and I wanna go to sleep.”

“Pity, I thought you might wanna get your wand back. Taking into consideration that tomorrow we still have class.”

You looked back at him, astonished. “My wand? Did you take my wand?”

“Who said I did? I’m just making a point here,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders and smiling.

“Draco, where is my wand?”

“Funny you ask because, it will only appear if you really need it.”

You got the hint. You looked one last time at Draco and rolled your eyes. You exited the ball with fast steps and headed to the seventh floor, left corridor, where the Room Of Requirements could be found. You closed your eyes and focused on your wand. Suddenly, where there was before a wall a door appeared. You got in.

The room was full of antic objects. You started by looking at the floor to see if Draco had thrown it, but you couldn’t see it. It was going to be impossible will all the number of objects.

“Looking for this?”

Draco’s voice echoed in the room. You turned around and there he was with your wand in hand.

“Draco, I’m done with your silly games. Give it back.”

“Come take it.” He kept it in one of his pants’ pockets.

“Draco,” you sighed, still you stood in front of him

You put one of your hands in his pocket to grab the wand and he immediately got closer to you. So close your lips were almost brushing each other.

“Hi,” he said.

You didn’t reply and with the willpower you have left, you tried to grab the wand. He got even closer, his crotch making contact with you. He had a boner.

You paralyzed and eventually, looked up at his eyes.

He was staring at you with no smile this time. He looked desperate and lustful. He pulled your head towards his, and his lips made their way to yours.

He started kissing you softly, only both of your lips playing with one another. Then he started introducing his tongue and biting your lower lip so hard it made you moan. You grabbed his neck and pulled him closer to you. He moved one of his hands to your ass and squeezed it a few times. He let out a moan.

“The Room of Requirements,” you started saying between kisses, “only opens when you need it.” He tried to shut you up with his mouth but you continued. “How did you get in?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked you, ending the kiss and staring into your eyes. “I needed you.”

Enamoured. That’s how you would describe the way you felt at that moment.

[starlingflight]

loml

Written for @corneliaavenue-ao3 TTPD Several Sunlit Daylights challenge.

Read on AO3 or below:

I. lesson of my life

Every illusion Ginny has ever had is shattered over the course of a single night. 

She doesn't go into the chamber willingly. She claws, and scratches and fights against Tom's commands with all her might. She cries, and she struggles, but in the end it makes no difference. She isn't strong enough. As the darkness swallows her up, her final childish hope is for a rescue she knows isn't coming. 

When she opens her eyes again it doesn't feel like a miracle. The cold from the stone floor has seeped through her skin, a chill has settled deep in her bones and she knows, with absolute certainty, it will never fully go away. 

Of course Harry is there, holding a mighty sword, a dead monster behind him. The very image of the conquering hero she's always fantasised about, but this isn't like one of Ginny's fantasies. He's covered in blood, and his eyes are wide with the same terror that's taken root deep within her soul. There's no triumph in this moment, only horror. 

This isn't a dream. It's a nightmare. One that Ginny won't fully wake up from for a very long time. 

She learns many lessons that night, but the most important one will come later. After she's spent weeks, months, years putting herself back together, because Harry might have rescued her from the chamber, but, as Ginny will come to realise, the only person who can really save you is yourself.

II. light of my life

Harry's never known a darkness like this. It starts when he watches Sirius fall through the veil, tiny tendrils of black slowly leaking out from his heart, unfurling with increasing urgency until he's overwhelmed by a cold, empty abyss that he's sure nothing will ever penetrate again. How can it when Sirius is never coming back? 

He doesn't even notice the first ray of light. It happens so quickly. He's in the hospital wing, trying very hard to let Hermione's commentary on the latest news from The Prophet distract him from the aching chasm in his chest, and the unbearable weight of the prophecy, when it happens. 

Luna says something completely ridiculous about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks – whatever they are – Harry can feel Hermione's exasperation from across the small gap that separates her bed from Ron's. Ginny's chocolate eyes meet his, and something happens that he'd assumed would never happen again. 

Harry smiles. 

It's fleeting, lasting less than a second.  There's very little time to dwell on it before they're looking away from one another, and the grief washes over him again, a tidal wave that steals the air from his lungs. 

That's just the beginning though… or maybe the beginning had been years ago. Maybe the blush he'd once thought of as the setting sun had actually been the opposite; Ginny's light rising, her warm, rosy glow beginning its ascent into his life. 

She continues to rise that summer, forcing the darkness back with her sheer brightness. Her smile turns black to grey; her laugh is powder pinks and bright oranges; the jokes she coaxes from him are pure, cloudless blue. 

When she runs at him across the common room months later, she's blazing, burning red. When she reaches him, when Harry finally kisses Ginny, the sun reaches its apex and his whole life is awash with bright, brilliant gold. 

For a few shining weeks there are only sunlit days. 

III. loss of my life

Fittingly, they're at a funeral when it happens. Ginny always knew he had great comedic timing. She's not laughing, however, as Harry lays out all his stupid, noble reasons why they can't be together. She's not crying either, though; that feels like a small mercy. The only one she's going to get for a while. 

She does cry when she finally makes it home. It's silly, she knows. Silly, foolish, naive Ginny Weasley, a familiar, cold voice whispers through her mind. For once, she doesn't try to argue with it, but she doesn't try to stop either. 

Instead, she buries her face into her pillow and lets herself sob until her eyes run dry. Her tears aren't just for her broken heart, but for everything Ginny's already had to sacrifice; her childhood, her innocence. 

It isn't until weeks later that she realises the true magnitude of what she stands to lose. 

“And then what does she think's going to happen? Someone else will kill off Voldemort while she's holding us here making vol-au-vents?” 

The fork Ginny is holding almost slips from her grasp. Her heart falters in her chest. Harry playing his flippant comment off a joke does nothing to return it to a steady rhythm. 

It plays round and round in her mind that night. Her knuckles are ghostly white where they grip her bedsheet. Vaguely, she'd known what he'd planned to do, but vague notions and knowing with absolute certainty are two very different things. The task Harry brought up so nonchalantly in the kitchen is nothing short of a suicide mission. It hits Ginny with the force of a barrage of stunning spells, knocking the air from her lungs; Harry might not come back to her. 

Two days later, when she kisses him in her bedroom, it doesn't feel like she's saying happy birthday, it feels like she's saying goodbye.

When Harry follows Ron out of her bedroom door, he takes a piece of Ginny with him, one she prays she hasn't lost forever. 

IV. longing of my life

She haunts him like a ghost. What was once screaming colour and pure unfiltered brightness is now just a memory, a pale imitation permanently stuck on repeat in his mind. 

Harry moves stoically from one hiding place to another and, though they're separated by miles, Ginny follows him to every single one. 

He can hear her laugh in the wind that shakes the canvas sides of the tent. He can see her smile in the sunlight that penetrates the thick canopy of the forests they move between. At night, when he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend the sheet brushing against his skin is her fingertips. 

It's worse when he has the locket on. Then, he's tormented with visions like the one he'd imagined on his birthday; of her moving on. Finding someone else. Living a life that can never be his. 

Horcrux or no, he can't stop himself thinking about her. Aching for her. Longing for her. 

He clings to memories of Ginny like scraps of driftwood, the only thing keeping Harry afloat when he's been set adrift. 

V. lament of my life

It's like the chamber all over again. Ginny's whole world is flipped upside down in the space of a single night. 

She doesn't see Fred go. She doesn't know the last time she sees her big brother that it's the last time.  

“Take care of yourself,” he'd shouted over his shoulder as Ginny had gone hurtling down a corridor in pursuit of a Death Eater.

“Don't I always?’ she'd called back. 

What if she'd told him to do the same? Would he have listened? Would he still be there? 

There's very little time to dwell on such questions in the middle of a battle.  Especially not when every passing second brings another devastating loss. 

Lupin. Tonks. Colin. 

Ginny's heart shatters into a million little pieces until it doesn't exist at all. Or so she thinks, until she sees Harry's body cradled in Hagrid’s arms. 

Then she knows she still has a heart, because it's in unbearable agony. She doubles over from the pain of it. His name escapes her lips on a scream, as though she might be able to call him back to life through sheer desperation. 

Tom Riddle talks; for the second time in Ginny's life, she's unable to hear him, but this isn't like the Chamber at all. This time Ginny wishes she was dead. 

When the battle resumes, she jumps straight into it with wild abandon. Ginny's lamentation is not filled with tears, or wailing. It's fire and rage for everything that's been taken from her. Tom Riddle already stole her past. Now he's taken her future. She will take everything she can from him, or die trying. 

VI. lowest of my life

He's never truly let himself imagine what it might be like to actually defeat Voldemort. If he had, Harry doubts he would have pictured it like this. 

If it's a win, why is there so much loss? 

He doesn't know whether the grief or the hope is more overwhelming. They mingle together, like waves in the ocean, swelling and breaking, threatening to pull Harry under. 

He can feel it crash over him as he stands in the great hall the day after the battle. The bodies are still there; all the people who don't get the second chance Harry does are laid out in front of him. Lifeless eyes staring, unseeing, up at the enchanted ceiling. 

The guilt and the pain sweep through him like ice water, filling his lungs; rising up in Harry's throat until there's no possible room for air. He takes a step back, desperate to flee somewhere he can sink down into the cold, lonely depths. 

Before he can, a hand, small and warm, slips into his, pulling Harry back to the surface. He releases one, long, deep breath before looking at her. 

Ginny's attempt at a smile is tinged with sadness, sunlight peeking through dark grey clouds. 

Only hours ago, he'd contemplated all the things he needed to say to her, but now no words are exchanged at all.  Only a look. It's all they need. All they've ever needed. Everything has changed. But he's still Harry, and she's still Ginny. 

Instinctively his arm comes around her. Ginny buries her face in his chest, sagging slightly against him, as though she was waiting for this moment to let herself rest. Like she needs him as much as he needs her. 

Harry's head rests against hers, the floral scent of her shampoo is faint, lingering beneath everything that's happened. It makes his heart falter anyway. He holds her tightly to him, something he never thought he'd get the chance to do again.  As he's come to expect, time seems to stop for her. They stay like that for what might only be seconds, or possibly an entire lifetime passes. 

Eventually, Ginny pulls out of his grasp. It takes less than a second for her hand to find his again, fingers entwining. She pulls gently, silently commanding him to follow her. Harry almost asks where they're going, but he doesn't really need to. He's free to go wherever he pleases now. He'll follow her anywhere. 

Ginny looks up at him as they walk towards the double doors. He can still see the embers of her blazing light smouldering in the dark depths of her eyes. He was right, there will be hours, days, and years in which to talk, but he doesn't need her to say a word now to know where she's taking him. He lets her pull him forward, lets her light guide him to a future he's still not sure he deserves to have. 

VII. loser of my life

For a while, Ginny thinks she'll never recover from the loss, from the grief and the heartache. It's not the first time she's felt this way, but this time she doesn't have to face it alone. Once she has Harry back, he doesn't leave her side again. 

They fall back together naturally. They stitch themselves back together slowly until one day, years later, the sun is blazing brightly in the sky, the pleasant summer breeze is ruffling the grass beneath her feet, and Ginny feels whole again. 

“Ready?” Her father asks, holding out his arm out to her. 

“Ready,” Ginny agrees, threading her hand through the crook of his elbow. Holding her colourful bouquet of wildflowers in front of her with her free hand. 

There have been times, in her darkest moments, when she wished she was someone else. A girl who hasn't dwelt in a darkness that most people don't ever see even in their worst nightmares; a witch who hasn't looked into the eyes of evil and refused to bend, refused to break; a woman who hasn't lost things that can never ever be replaced. 

Now, as soft music begins to swell in the summer air, and her gaze locks on Harry, waiting for her at the end of the makeshift aisle formed by the rows of chairs that have been put out in her parent's orchard, Ginny doesn't regret any of it. Everything she's lost is a step she's taken towards this. 

She can feel dozens of heads turn towards her, but Ginny only has eyes for Harry, and he, it appears, only has eyes for her. His smile makes the sun look dim in comparison. Still, the corner of his mouth trembles; even from a distance, Ginny can see emotion well up behind his glasses. 

‘Don't you dare,' she mouths, feeling her throat tighten as she does. Her arm stretches out, lifting her bouquet like it's a wand, miming hexing him. She's closer now. She can hear the tremor in his laugh as he puts his arms up in mock surrender. 

It's too late; the laughter she's coaxed from him doesn't stop the tear that slips down his cheek. Of course, one of her own escapes only a half a second later. 

“We look like such losers,” Ginny informs him, shaking her head, as her fingers slip from her father's arm into Harry's awaiting hand. 

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, quietly enough for only her to hear. He's still smiling as another tear slides unconcernedly down his face. His free hand reaches up, his thumb swipes away the ones that are currently leaking traitorously from Ginny's eyes. “But you're my loser.” 

It takes her a moment to regain her breath. A fleeting second in which she can't quite believe they're here; that they made it. Then she smiles even wider than before. “Not officially – not until we get through this ceremony.” 

Harry's gaze holds hers. Ginny almost forgets they have an audience. The world reduces down to just the two of them, grinning madly at one another. Harry's fingers squeeze her hand. “We'd best get on with it then.

VIII. legacy of my life

Books are filled with what many consider to be his finest achievements. Tales of thrilling battles, speculations on unsurvivable curses, and records of great victories are inked across the pages of history. 

As are the many titles thrust upon Harry; The  Boy Who Lived, Chosen One, Saviour.  To him, they're little more than noise, assumptions from people who don't really know him, and never will.

When he slips the wedding ring onto Ginny's finger, Harry gets the first title he's ever chosen for himself: husband. Her husband. 

Not long after, he gains another one, this one unplanned, but no less momentous. James, tiny, and so precious, is placed into his arms, and Harry becomes a father. 

His real legacy begins there. It's not just his, it's hers too. Their legacy. 

It's recorded in baby books and photo albums rather than history books. It's memorialised in finger paintings and handmade Christmas ornaments (made under Ginny's expert supervision) instead of plaques and statues. It's hundreds of little memories of their family that will never see the inside of a newspaper, but that doesn't make them any less noteworthy, not to Harry, who'd never dared to imagine that this life could be his one day. 

IX. love of my life

“Dinner!” Her mother calls from the back door of The Burrow, her voice ringing out across the garden. 

The sun is setting, dipping below the topmost branches of the orchard. The sky is a tapestry of pinks, purples and golds, stretching out for miles above them. 

“What do you think?” Ginny asks as her feet meet the ground, dismounting from her broom. “Could I make it as a pro?” 

Harry lands beside her. His eyes sweep appraisingly over her. Ginny's stomach swoops like she's still in the air. “I don't know,” he says thoughtfully. “The League is brutal. It requires rigorous training.” 

Ginny shrugs unconcernedly, hoisting her broom onto her shoulder as she does. “Do you know any Quidditch captains who might be interested in helping me with such an undertaking?” 

“I know one who might be able to make some time for you this summer,” Harry says as he falls into step beside her. He inclines his head towards her broom.“I can take it for you?”

Ginny's eyes narrow, prepared to tell him she's perfectly capable of carrying her own broom, but, when she turns, the way he's looking at her makes her heart race, and the words die on her tongue. without her permission, her expression transforms into a grin. “Very chivalrous of you.” 

A weight is lifted from her as Harry settles her broom beside his on his shoulder. “That's kind of what I'm known for.” 

“Only ‘kind of’?” Ginny's eyes wander to the quickly darkening sky above them as she laughs. “In that case, I'll be sure to let people know of this latest act of heroism – personally, I don't think you get enough attention.” 

“Well, if that's how you feel, you could always give me more.” 

Ginny stops midstep. Her head turns sharply back to Harry. She should keep walking, the words that are on the tip of her tongue will lead to something that neither of them planned for on this particular summer evening. 

Harry's eyebrows rise upwards; even in the dusk, Ginny can see the challenge sparking in his eyes. Unbidden, she takes a step towards him. “Are you flirting with me, Potter?” 

He doesn't back down, but he doesn't make a move towards her either. The brooms he's holding clatter together as he shrugs with just a bit too much tension in his shoulders to be truly nonchalant. “I might be.” 

Ginny's blood thrums in her veins as she takes another step towards him. “Need I remind you that I'm spoken for?” 

“How could I forget?” Harry's head lowers despite her reminder, until he's so close Ginny can see the flecks of gold in his green eyes. “I suppose he's deeply in love with you?” 

“Yes,” she nods with absolute certainty. “And I feel the same about him.” 

Harry's head dips lower, the determination in his eyes making his intention clear. Ginny rises on her tiptoes, unable to fight the pull that always inevitably beckons her to him. 

Barely an inch of space remains between them. Her heart flutters wildly– 

“Oi!” The loud, obnoxious shout comes from the far end of the orchard, making Ginny jump. She turns towards it and finds a lanky figure glaring at them from where he leans against the fence. “When you're done being disgusting, Nanna says to hurry up – dinner’s ready and the rest of us aren't allowed to start without you.” 

James doesn't wait for a response before turning on his heel and marching back towards the house. 

Ginny rolls her eyes at her son's retreating back. Her hand slips into Harry's, the most contact they're getting, at least until after dinner. “Remind me again why we had children?” 

Harry sighs, allowing her to lead him towards the gate James has just departed from. “You said they'd be cute.” 

“Well, they used to be,” she says fairly as she pushes the gate open with her free hand. “I wasn't thinking as far as them becoming teenagers.” 

Harry nods seriously. “Really, who could've predicted such an unforeseeable outcome.” 

Ginny looks up at him as he follows her through the gate. Brown eyes meet green through the burgeoning twilight. Two identical smiles bloom like flowers in spring. 

“Certainly not you, judging by your appalling Divination grades.” 

[ginevrapng]

┆彡 ♡ tits or ass?

the preferences of harry potter characters (this is 100% canon) (this is just a little silly, a little goofy if you will but still canon)

harry- thighs, legs, basically anything from the waist down

ron- ass (you can't change my mind)

hermione- ass

neville- stomachs/tummies, he just thinks they're cute

ginny- thighs

fred- tits

george- swears it's personality but really it's thighs (THICK THIGHS)

luna- tits

draco- ass and he says it like everyone who disagrees is wrong

cedric- personality... (ass)

lee- thighs

seamus- he can't decide, it changes every time someone hot walks past him

cho- tits

[sitp-recs]

Hello! I hope you are well! Lately I've been thinking about a fanfic that I read a long time ago, I really lost it and I haven't been able to find it but I've always wanted to read something similar! Do you have any recommendations for fanfics that take place in nature? Some excursion to the dark forest maybe ?extra points if it's just the two of them

Hello anon! Sure thing, here are some fics that are either completely or partially set in a forest. I’m probably forgetting some but I’m sure my followers will jump in with more recs!

Doppelganger by @writcraft (M, 7k)

It was just a silly dare, but one ill-advised trip into the Forbidden Forest changes Harry’s life forever.

Hippomancy for Beginners by khalulu (E, 11k)

When Draco desperately insists on becoming a Centaur Liaison, he doesn’t know what he’s getting into, especially with that annoying hero-turned-hermit Harry Potter living right at the entrance to the Forbidden Forest.

Of Hoof Picks, Centaurs and Flight by @blamebrampton (G, 21k)

Harry has promised that he will not do anything to upset the new head of Magical Creatures. Even if it is Draco Malfoy.

The Last of What the World Left You by @xanthippe74 (T, 25k)

If the wizarding world won’t give Draco a second chance, he has a plan to survive: live in his Animagus form, a carrion crow, in the Forbidden Forest. Not only does Harry Potter come along and ruin it, he’s radiating a strange aura of power.

Rough Magic by birdsofshore (E, 28k)

Malfoy's magic has run wild. But though wild magic is unpredictable and greatly feared, Harry's damned if he's going to let Malfoy rot in St Mungo's while they work out what to do with him.

Pathless Woods by @shealwaysreads (E, 30k)

Harry finds himself unexpectedly reacquainted with Draco Malfoy when his work as an apprentice wandmaker takes him to Wiltshire. Amongst the trees Harry finds magic, growth, and a man who might finally be proving he’s worthy of the wand that chose him.

Draco Malfoy, It's Your Lucky Day by Faith Wood (E, 37k)

Even though he's unarmed, injured, lost in the Forbidden Forest, and facing a possible murder charge, Draco Malfoy gets lucky.

Follow the Water by @xanthippe74 (T, 38k)

Harry Potter’s life is fine. Maybe a little dull and predictable, but he shouldn’t complain about that, right? When he unexpectedly finds himself at Luna’s house one afternoon, Harry gets invited to join the secret wonderland that she’s creating with a surprising group of friends.

Strangeness and Charm by @drarrytrash (E, 45k)

One November night during his eighth year at Hogwarts, Draco ends up in the forbidden forest. That’s how it starts.

Among Ancient Pines by @graymatters (M, 74k)

Every day, Draco Malfoy tries. With every fiber of his being he tries. But he doesn’t much think about what he’s trying for. In his final term of Healer training, Draco is unfortunate enough to find himself on a plane, the only means of traveling to a small, magical town in rural Alaska.

Yours is the Earth (Hold On, Hold On) by chickenlivesinpumpkin (E, 127k)

After a serious accident in the Forbidden Forest, Draco's personality begins to undergo subtle changes.

Eclipse by Mijan (T, 287k)

Draco swore his revenge on Harry for Lucius's imprisonment, and Harry all but laughed at him. But Draco is planning more than schoolyard pranks this time.

[stationintern]

party 4 u

this is my favorite charli xcx song, and Harry has always played the leading role in my fantasies while listening to it. pls enjoy this fic. i've included multiple mentions of the duo frou frou as a treat for the girlies (anyone who loves frou frou as much as i do).

“Why is it called a pineapple?” Harry asks, leaning against a kitchen cabinet. The knob is digging into his spine, but he’s too loaded to move, let alone notice. He’s shed his pirate costume on various surfaces over the course of the night, his ruffled shirt the only sign left that he was anything at all in the first place.

Nobody replies, because Hermione– dressed as a fairy– is passed out at the kitchen island, hunched over on one of the barstools with her head cradled in her arms. She has a tendency to overestimate her ability to tell when enough is enough, but always ends up having more fun than any of them.

He never should have had this party, is still not sure what he was expecting to get from all this. Most of the people he invited came in their half-arsed costumes, ate ludicrous amounts of sweets, and got drunker than they’d planned to. Surely, his Halloween party should have been a success, right?

Yet, that was never the goal at all. There was one objective for the night, and it’s nearing three in the morning, still uncompleted. 

Yes, Harry Gatsby’d it. 

Eventually, Hermione is carried out over Ron’s shoulder amid hoarse goodbyes and ‘have a good night’s. Harry and Luna collect the cups, and the sink smells of pineapple and rum, of Draco’s breath after every pub night. They take down the streamers while Imogen Heap sings ‘I have to be somewhere/now where did I put it,” and Harry is reminded of the infinite times he was held sonically hostage to Draco’s Details CD on long drives. 

He feels nauseous, and can’t decide if it’s because of the lack of Draco’s presence, or the way he’d overindulged with every passing hour. He decides it’s because of Draco, because everything is. Draco is the reason he painted his bedroom walls blue, and threw this party in the first place.

Their little friends with benefits situation ended three years ago, and Draco’s moved on. Multiple times. But none of them stick, and with every breakup that spark of hope grows in Harry’s chest. That Draco will come back and finish what they started.

Eventually, Luna leaves too, and Harry’s left with a house devoid of all the things he’d placed in it to lure Draco in like a blonde fish to a Frou Frou CD on a hook. Nearing four, Harry leaves it on, lets the music remind him of better times when he wasn’t drunk, when he wasn’t slowly becoming one with the sofa, when Draco being in his house wasn’t something he had to carefully orchestrate.

It’s begun to rain outside, and he’s drifting off to the pitter-patter when the doorbell rings. The sound is like someone dumping a bucket of ice water on his head, and once again the hope that maybe it could be him overcomes the alcohol, just as it did every time a new guest arrived to the party.

It’s funny, how you can have hope for something and fully believe it to be impossible at the same time. The feeling sits in Harry’s mind after being drilled into him all night. Is it him? No. Is it him? No. Is it–

“You have to stop inviting me to things.”

Draco is wet, soaked– which is ridiculous, since he was always so silly about keeping out of the rain, the precise temperature of his warming charms. He’s in his robe, the same grey one with hairspray crust on the shoulders that Harry liked to scratch at. Underneath the fabric there are freckles from Draco’s bad experience with a tanning booth that he hasn’t bothered to magic away. Harry likes to think it’s because he knew how fond he was of them. He knows that body and the stories behind it. He knows Draco so well it’s sickening.

“What?”

“Just– stop, alright? I can’t keep coming up with excuses the next day.”

He looks like a petulant child– fists at his sides, the crease in his brow, the sheer stubbornness that coats every word.

“I’m sorry?” Harry doesn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but he’s not sure what he’s supposed to be sorry for, and is still reeling from his learned experience being proven wrong so abruptly. 

“I don’t understand why you feel the need to remind me. You- you invite me to your house. You give me… I get a taste of what it’s like to be around you again and then I leave, and I just can’t any more! I can’t come to your parties, your pub nights, your fucking luncheons. You’re cruel, Harry. This is all so…”

Harry reaches out a hand, rests it on Draco’s shoulder, “I’m so confused right now.”

“You’re swaying,” Draco notices.

“I am very drunk.”

“Harry, you don’t have to keep trying to include me in things. I know… I can’t be your friend.”

“Why?”

“I can’t believe you’re asking me that.”

Draco averts his eyes, and seems to realize he’s wet, before pushing his way into Harry’s foyer and drying himself off with his wand. Harry wishes he wouldn’t, because the sight of him truly affected by the rain is something to behold, something he now realizes he’s been deprived of for so long.

“You know why,” he continues, “You know why, and yet you keep inviting me to things because my friends are your friends and vice versa, but I don’t need to be included in everything, not when you know how much it hurts me.”

“Draco, what the fuck are you on about?”

“What am I supposed to do? Just act normal? I’ve been in love with you for three fucking years, and everybody knows it, and I know you know it, and I’m sick of being embarrassed–”

“Draco,” Harry stops him, a hand pressed to his firm chest. The gesture isn’t needed, but Harry wants to touch him so bad, feel the linen of Draco’s shirt under his fingertips now that he knows that Draco wants it, “You’re stupid.”

If he wasn’t drunk, he would have been much more eloquent, but this is the best he’s got, and as long as Draco stops talking long enough to listen, maybe he can make it through this conversation.

“I only threw this party for you.”

Draco takes two steps back, knocks his hip against a fern, then takes a step forward.

“You threw…” Draco looks around the room, now devoid of all its decorations, and Harry hopes he can imagine them in his mind. Imagine a room full of people they love, drinking something he likes, eating his favourite candy, listening to his favourite music, and understand that Harry has always been trying to show, unsure if he was allowed to tell, “What are you saying?”

“I Gatsby’d it,” Harry replies, because Luna said that’s what he was doing, and the phrase has been stuck in his head all night.

“You Gatsby’d it,” Draco deadpans.

“I threw an entire party and filled it with things I know you like, just because I wanted you to show up,” Harry admits, “I had rum rollovers and Frou Frou and I dressed up as a pirate because I know you love men in frilly shirts, because I wanted you to walk in and notice.”

It’s definitely odd saying it out loud, but Draco just showed up at his doorstep and professed his love for him, so Harry feels free to say his truth.

“And I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I’m seven hours late.”

“Very fashionable.”

“Sorry about that,” Draco scratches that spot behind his ear, where he’s always thought about getting a tattoo. Harry remembers how it tastes, “So…”

“I love you too, by the way,” Harry blurts, “You said you were in love with me and I called you stupid and–”

Draco reaches for him, and Harry is both expecting it and caught off guard when they kiss– quick and painless and just as sweet as he remembers.

“You threw a party for me,” Draco murmurs.

“Everything I do is for you,” Harry replies, and Draco kisses him again, and again, until he finally manages to pull away from his lips, “I mean, not brushing my teeth or whatever. Like, the pub nights and the dinner parties. Those were all for you.”

“For me.”

“For you.”

“Why didn’t you just–” Draco starts, and Harry knows why he didn’t just, but he’s still too muddled to explain all that.

“I have a lot of problems,” he says instead.

Draco laughs, and Harry’s so glad that it’s finally because of him again, and not some brunette at the pub, “Yes, you do.”

They move on to the sofa, trading explanations through the night as Harry’s buzz finally wears off, and Draco admits that he got pretty smashed in his kitchen, unable to bear the idea of refusing the invite. The sun peaks through the curtains in the early hours of the morning, and they begin to doze, twisted around one another. They haven’t spoken for a while, simply rested in the warmth of long-awaited understanding.

But, as Harry finally lets sleep overcome him, he hears a snort and one final whisper.

“You Gatsby’d it…”

if you liked this, feel free to give it some love over on ao3!

[sweetnnaivete]

ALL ABOUT ME ♡

my name's ceri, but you're welcome to give me any nicknames / petnames you want !!

i'm fifteen, my birthday is september 9th, i'm white, british (welsh) and american, i speak english and a fair bit of spanish

all my love : travelling, band tees, self care, coming of age films, blush, silly socks, dad jokes, roald dahl books, dancing around the house to upbeat songs, singing & playing the drums, wes anderson films, autumn, iced chai lattes, imperfections & human flaws, snoopy, all things lavender-scented, english & history class, medieval art, miffy, the moon, video essays, chocolate, harry potter & the order of the phoenix

books : harry potter, percy jackson, grishaverse, little women, the perks of being a wallflower, a good girl's guide to murder, five survive, gregor the overlander, the seven husbands of evelyn hugo, the secret history, to kill a mockingbird, the sisters grimm, much ado about nothing, the catcher in the rye, heaven, the hunger games, anne of green gables, fahrenheit 451

movies / tv : star wars films, studio ghibli films, lady bird, gilmore girls, dead poets society, how to train your dragon, juno, friends, downton abbey, anne with an e, saltburn, derry girls, coraline, la la land, billy elliot, little women (2019), brooklyn 99, 10 things i hate about you

music : beabadoobee, mitski, david bowie, taylor swift, lamp, gracie abrams, laufey, the smiths, olivia rodrigo, the killers, boygenius, abba, catfish and the bottlemen, clairo, cocteau twins, the cranberries, chappell roan, cigarettes after sex, ethel cain, fleetwood mac, jeff buckley, lana del rey, mazzy star, leith ross, radiohead, phoebe bridgers, the beatles, sabrina carpenter, fiona apple, wave to earth, ramones, the cardigans, adrianne lenker, tv girl

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ : harry potter, inej ghafa, peeta mellark, james potter, leo valdez, ravi singh, dorcas meadowes, nikolai lantsov, kaz brekker, henry winter, dave rygalski, gilbert blythe, chandler bing, patrick verona, jess mariano

meee :3 : lily evans, narcissa black, amy march, pip fitz-amobi, hermione granger, sabrina grimm, remus lupin, kat stratford, luna lovegood, neville longbottom, annabeth chase, jo march, amy santiago, sybill trelawney, todd anderson

[icanttalkimhavingacrisis]

FIC IDEA WOULD ANY OF YOU READ THIS I NEED REASONS TO WRITE IT

Basically post hogwarts domesticity. The war never happened, Voldemort was never a thing, just... Pure, human behaviour.

The only couple from Hogwarts that's still together is Moony and Padfoot, and the marauders (and the Valkyries) decide to all meet up together for the holidays. They rent out a Muggle cottage somewhere in the mountains in europe for two weeks and basically just act like teenagers.

A few days into their trip, they encounter a second group that coincidentally decided to go on a holiday in the exact same place at the exact same time - the Slytherin skittles (they're in a cottage down the road). Obviously, they all get together, decide to put their differences aside and just... Become Friends (I have black brothers fluff plannedddd)

It is on this trip that, shocker, James realises that he has feelings for Regulus, and Reggie confesses to having had them for years (also Lily and Panda get together). They get together as well because I say so <3

Basically the fic will either end in them all going back to London, or will be continued, featuring lavender marriages between Lily and James and Pandora and Xenophilius, the four of them have kids (Harry and Luna), which they raise together and then I could either incorporate my two silly little microfics and keep writing or end it on that

(Ships: jegulus, pandalily, background wolfstar, dorlene and rosekiller)

[deadchaoticcosmos]

what are you looking at?

anyway salutations, i have finally made an intro post after a year of meaning to.

the beginning or the end, the end or the beginning

to all the people who have struggled with self harm

especially the ones who don't have the battle scars to prove it

so yeah hi,

some main shit you might want to know,

i am non binary/genderfluid(idk still fighting with my own fucking brain), i am also pansexual and i think i may be demi-sexual, idk ,you dont care about my silly brain not knowing shit about myself.

i am experimenting with the name dorian because my stars does that name have a chokehold on me, so you can refer to me as that or don't i don't mind, really you can refer to me as anything you want as long as it is not offensive and mean.

i am a minor but i am truly an old man, also a very hyper (at times), sophisticated 4 year old.

i am irish, i speak english and *not fluent,but one day* irish and french

personality= INFJ

also not to good with tones so if you could tell me that would be great

more random things♡

i am fucked in the head, but i am undiagnosed with probably a lot a shit but we love that!

umm idk i guess i am a poet?

i am trying to write a book but transferring it from my brain is a lot harder than expected

i am decent at art

and i like to read

also a big fan of nature and space and stars

also i just LOVE ART, I WISH I COULD CONSUME IT

oh yea do love school except for the social aspects especially love maths history french and science!

my ao3= DeadRABStar

also i am a slytherin

also big thanks to fan fic writers and just fan artists and fans in general , you mean the world to me and you deserve everything good in life

okay shit i like time

fandoms=

marauders, this is like my main thing right now and has been for a while

i kin everyone basically because my personality is all over the place and is making its own children somehow and now im making it everyones problem

i kin kinda all of them because i am all over the place with everything and my own personality cant chose shit for the life of it, but regulus the most

i kinda look like remus but with james potter glasses and instead of scars on my face, they are all over my arms and legs

ships♡= i can roll with anything but my preferences/ships i love and are obsessed with are

jegulus, starchaser, sunseeker, pandalily, rosekiller, wolfstar, dorlene, marylily, pete/benjy(reading a fic with that paring and am obsessed) nobleflower, quilkiller, narcissa/lilly, panda/xeno, bartylus, moonwater(idf with thus ship name though but there is no other to call them)plus any other ship really idc how small the ship gets love i shall love it unless i hate it cough princechaser and sometimes snilly and kinda any ship with severus cough, no offence

again no offence don't come at me but i don't like jegulily and i think regulus and lily would be best friends (?) like they are friends in my mind but idk, no hate

platonic ships i love but some i do also like as a couple sometimes, moonwater,prongsfoot, jilly, prongstail, james and remus, regulus and pandora, james and pandora, james with any of the slytherin skittles,pete and mary and any others i may be forgetting right now but give me some poeple and i would love their dynamic

i do have lots of controversial opinions on the black family(i love them your honor)

i feel like lily and petunia's relationship should be talked about more

and some golden trio ships=

drarry, hermine(?)/pansy, seamus/blaise, seamus/dean, ron/hermine, blaise/pansy and luna/ginny

(btw harry and luna are regulus and pandora in the next generation)

also FUCK JKR, i wish i could murder that bitch, we do NOT support her and her 'opinions' here, if you do get out, leave

feel free to talk to me about any of these topics i just listed

im kinda apart of the rioardion, cant spell for shit<3, universe fandom but not really

a little bit of lockwood and co. but i am really just a big fan of the books dont really interact with fandom

a new one but i am kinda already lowkey obsessed, shameless, no comment

i LOVE music, i listen to mainly rock or classical and some pop but really whatever i am in the mood for

some people are=

queen, bowie, tx2,abba, florence and the machine, the beatles, the rolling stones, chappell roan, conan gray, tv girl, girl in red, the smiths, the clash, elvis, elton john, mother mother, hozier, måneskin, blondie, slipknot, korn my brain is fried and can't think of anything right now so i will update this (can you tell how gay i am yet)

some shows and movies=

psych, Princess bride, ferris bullers day off, the breakfast club, gilmore girls, clue, beetlejuice, saw, scream, friday the 13, nightmare on elm street, talk to me, heartstopper, derry girls, how i met your mother, dead poets society, that 70s show, seven brides for seven brothers, perks of being a wallflower, goonies, oceans 8,pretty in pink, room, heathers (winona ryder one), the simpsons, disengagement, shameless and again my brain is fried and can't think of anything right now so i will update this

love musicals but i think wicked is my favourite one, i saw it for the first time when i was really young and it's always kinda just stuck with my and im seeing it again in a couple weeks, however this might change because my feelings towards others are changing so who knows who will my favourite, anyway musicals are amazing

and again, feel free to talk to me about any of these topics i just listed

DNI ( DO NOT INTERACT) IF

you are, transphopic, homophobic or do not support lgbtq+, are racist, mean or anything else

we want nice, supportive, chill people here (nice and chill are kinda ekoej because i am neither but you get what i mean i hope)

you can vent to me if you want, i am here for you always, you don't have to be afraid here

that being said this is also kinda a vent account, sometimes i just like typing out my problems and tell you people because i feel like i can't tell anyone in real life, which is true

mental health is important

my Spotify (playlists)

https://open.spotify.com/user/31mpkfgmto566jbdd2hcn3j4wxzy?si=sa4cWVBFQTKOpF9uQTbp9Q

FREE GAZE, FREE PALESTINE 🇵🇸 AND AGAIN IF YOU DON'T SUPPORT MY VIEWS ON THIS LEAVE

i will update this if i think of any thing else i want to say but feel free to come and chat with my in my asks box and ask about my opinions on certain shit, idfk, and also share your opinions and thoughts because i am a nosy person

my other accounts

@romulusfuckingtraitor (role play, remus)

@romulusfuckyoufuckingtraitor (idfk what this is but i mostly reblog political stuff, and if you scroll to the end the second post are resources to help Palestine 🇵🇸,now pinned)

@sendmetotheasylume (a shameless reblog blog, i did say it was only a reblog blog but i did make one post, do not take my word for shit fuck

@helpmedieplwease (drarry, golden trio era, also a bit of next gen(cursed child)

@begaydotumbler (marauders, mostly jeggy)

last updated 13/09/2024

[seriouslysam8]

April Prompt #16: Holiday for @hinnymicrofic

Harry stood perfectly still, his hands shoved in his pockets and his chin jutted towards the ceiling. He started to count to ten but quickly realized that he would need to up the number to at least fifty to keep from shouting at his two eldest children. The simple fact that he felt the urge to yell at his children meant that they had managed to anger their father more than normal. Harry put up with a lot from his kids. He grinned and rolled his eyes at most of their pranks or lectured them until they were ridden with guilt when they would go too far. This… Harry closed his eyes and started to count to fifty.

His head pounded as he stood inside the International Portkey Office in the Ministry of Magic. They were supposed to catch a Portkey to New York City for Luna and Rolf’s wedding and then enjoy a holiday after. Harry was beginning to think that they would not make said Portkey.

“I cannot believe how irresponsible the two of you are!” Ginny exclaimed with her face as red as her hair, clenching her fists at her sides. “Of all the days you had to pull one of your silly little pranks, it has to be at the Portkey Office?”

Looking down, Harry stared at his children. Teddy and James squirmed under Ginny’s scolding. Albus snickered from his chair, his legs swinging in a steady rhythm. Lily leaned up against her father’s legs and huffed out a string of whines.

Turning his head, he watched as a team of custom agents rifled through their seven bags of luggage. Harry had tried to tell Ginny that she had packed too much for their week and a half holiday to America but she pretended not to hear him and continued to stuff the bags until they were ready to rip at the seams. He swore that he saw her place a Reinforcing Charm on at least two of the bags. Glancing down at his battered watch that once belonged to Fabian Prewett, Harry groaned. Their Portkey to New York was set to leave in ten minutes, and he wasn’t sure how they were going to catch it.

“I’m sorry, Auror Potter, but we have to search the bags after the… erm… the illegal fireworks went off,” the Head of the International Portkey Office explained as he shot him an apologetic smile and tugged on the collar of his robes. “If they catch wind of this in New York and found out we didn’t search your bags thoroughly… I mean, I’d be fired, you know.”

“If we miss our Portkey because of your fireworks prank, your bottoms won’t sit on a broomstick until you’re each seventy-five!” Ginny continued to rage.

“We weren’t trying to pull a prank!” Teddy exclaimed as he squirmed. “We wanted to take them to Luna and Rolf’s wedding and set them off. Uncle George said-”

Ginny’s eyes grew wide. “Why in Merlin’s name are you listening to your Uncle George? What have I always told you boys?”

“Err… if Uncle George thinks it’s a good idea, it probably isn’t?” James supplied.

“Never accept any prototypes from Uncle George?” added Teddy.

James furrowed his brow as he concentrated. “Never eat anything that Uncle George gives us?”

Ginny looked crazed as she shot a look over at Harry. He offered a smile that came out as a grimace. Harry looked down at his watch. They were down to eight minutes until their Portkey left.

Harry shifted his weight as he looked over at the Head of the International Portkey Office. “I don’t mean to use my position as Head Auror, but my family and I cannot miss this Portkey. It’s imperative that we make it tonight because the one tomorrow night leaves too late.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Auror Potter.”

Harry thanked him with a forced smile. He glanced down at his watch again. If they missed their New York City Portkey then they would certainly miss their Portkey to some place called the Finger Lakes where the actual wedding was taking place. It was to take them directly to the bed and breakfast where they were staying.

Ginny pointed a finger at the empty seats next to Albus. Teddy and James didn’t hesitate to obey the order. They slouched down into the chairs and tried to make themselves as small as possible. Lily let out another loud whine as Harry reached down to haul the small girl up into his arms.

Ginny crossed her arms over her chest as she stood next to Harry. “Your sons are going to be in so much trouble when we get home from America.”

Harry frowned. “Why are they always my sons when they do something wrong?”

Ginny bumped her hip against his. “Because you have a penchant for trouble that they seem to have inherited from you.”

Harry couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the statement, the corners of his lips tugging up. Ginny grabbed his wrist to look at the time and let out a string of swear words that Ron would be exceedingly proud of as the Portkey Office bought in a several more employees. Harry sank down into a chair next to Albus, wincing at the terrible start of their holiday.

[pxgeturner]

@cannibalizedyke happy happy happy late birthday, my angel 🎀 i wish i got this out sooner. but I love you to pieces and i hope you enjoy this, lovebug <;3

wc: 438

pov: ginny is a party girl. luna is not. so one day, knowing ginny will be out on at a party, luna makes plans. the next day, each of them hear through about what happened through the grapevine.

Ginny was dancing, wishing luna could be here. If only everyone knew just how fun she is, how good of a dancer she is.

ginny made eye contact with harry. he’d been looking at her for a while, she thought. She spins around, and then, there he is, just a centimeter or two away from her. he grabs her wrist, forcing her lips into his. 

Harry’s lips are scratchy and the kiss is immature. He’s just pushing into her. She slips her wrist away and scampers away. 

She doesn’t know how she’s going to tell luna. 

... 

luna went on a date with blaise zabini. ginny can’t believe it. 

ginny let harry potter kiss her. luna can’t believe it.

luna’s sitting upside-down on the couch, her pale hair flowing onto the floor. 

ginny’s laying on her bean bag, leaning so far back, that she can see luna.

“so what happened, again?”

“told you already lu, he just kissed me.”

“but how did he kiss you? why did he kiss you? what song was playing?”

“uh, not very well? his lips were kind of super cracked. I don’t know why exactly but, he was looking at me all night, and just, did it. wonderland was playing.”

“huh,” is all luna could let out. She was upset. Harry potter could so snobby sometimes, so entitled to everything, he should know that was their song… “are you going to see him again?”

“no. ron wants me to though.” she pauses for a beat, “are you?”

“what?”

“zabini. are you going to go on another date with him? I think he would make a good boyfriend. Very gentlemanly.”

“he is. We get along very well, but, I don’t think I will.”

“why?”

“because even if we get along, I can’t be with him.”

“why not?”

luna’s throat tightened. She stared into ginny’s green eyes, that flashed with curiosity. She played with her hair as ginny smiled a silly smile. Her throat loosened and she speaks. 

“because i know that any time i’d kiss him, i’d think about kissing you. th–”

ginny fell of her bean bag. “fuck!” luna scrambles to help her ginny, getting her to sit up and steady herself, pushing the bright tousled hair out of ginny’s face. 

ginny tries to say something, but stammers. “you-you-you,” she takes a deep breath that shakes her a little bit, “you think about kissing me?” she’s hyperaware of her, her friend’s hand on her shoulder. 

ginny swears she’s had this dream before. 

“yes.” luna’s thumb brushes against ginny’s soft neck and her eyes flick to ginny’s lips, and smiles. “can i?”

“yes,”

[amymbona]

we can talk about Harry Potter babe !! who’s your favorite character/characters?

I was waiting for this question!!!!!!!!! 😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

I LOVE Tom Riddle and Barty Crouch junior. Like yeah....they were evil....they did bad things.... 🙄 But they are such complex characters! I spent literal months reading all sorts of articles about them (reading fanfiction as well) and daydreaming and making my little scenarios... I have to admit that I have special interest in evil characters, because they are usually much more interesting to study.

Then obviously my king Remus. I love my silly gay werewolf uncle with all sorts of issues <3 I also like the underrated, barely mentioned ones, like Luna, Blaise, Narcissa...

Oh what you have started with this question...