#mcgonagall is trying her best

[sectumsempraaa]

Our Missing Piece

Pairing: they’re all in love w/ you 🤭 x fem!reader

Word count: 1.3k

TW: none! Fluff galore!

Featuring: Draco, Theo, Mattheo, Pansy

Summary: As Hogwarts’s newest student, you generally keep to yourself, staying out of the spotlight. That is until you beat the famous Harry Potter in a classroom duel and win the hearts of a bunch of down-bad Slytherins, who jump at the chance to take you under their wing.

Please don’t pick me, please don’t pick me.

Professor Snape’s looming eyes scale the shaking students in front of him, deciding who he’ll choose to go next in your Defense Against the Dark Arts mock-wand battles. McGonagall has already made her choice, sending the famous Harry Potter walking proudly to the center, taking a wide stance.

You’ve managed to stay relatively out of the way since starting at Hogwarts, about a month ago. Since you stepped foot off the train, you decided to dedicate yourself to your studies, giving in to your introverted tendencies.

But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t long for friendship each time you spotted girls skipping in the hallway together, or when the Weasley crew bursts into laughter at lunch, or when you spot the Ravenclaws studying in the library.

Suddenly, your head of house’s voice penetrates the air, slicing through the anticipation like a swift dagger.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Snape announces, gesturing a finger to approach him.

Son of a bitch.

You look around, the color draining from your face as you observe every head turning to look at you. You make your way up to the raised platform, passed your professor, when an oddly gentle hand on your shoulder stops you short.

Snape kneels, lowering his voice to a mutter.

“Breathe. Forget his name. He is only a boy.”

You nod, swallowing your fear and taking your first steps toward Harry. You repeat the words in your head, closing your eyes momentarily and wiping the sweat from your palms.

He is only a boy.

“On your marks,” Professor Lupin instructs, the both of you lifting your wands to position. Harry nods to you in greeting, which you return with eyes like headlights. You try your best to ignore your racing pulse and quickened breath.

What the hell am I going to do?

A sly, boyish voice from the Slytherin crowd behind you catches your ear, a voice you can almost put a name to. The phrase ripples in your head, echoing until it becomes a solid thought.

“Careful of that one, Potter. She’s lethal.”

You grin to yourself, the remark helping to relax your shoulders and straighten your posture. And for the first time since arriving here, you feel a confidence that’s been waiting to unleash… you feel like a Slytherin.

She’s lethal.

In a split second, you choose a spell and devise the best handwork to perform it.

Yes, I bloody am.

Lupin conducts a countdown, and at the same time, you each send magic hurdling at each other. But you’re sharp, cunning, and quick. Maybe you’ve only been here a month, but you know enough to identify his weakness on the spot.

His softer, disarming expelliarmus meets your driving, aggressive bombarda, as a fantastic collision of colors explodes in the center of the platform. Students yell in reaction, stepping a few feet back.

The blast sends Harry straight down, rolling over a few times from the forceful impact. You had directed it specifically to hit at just the right moment, as not to cause injury.

After a second, you find yourself still on your feet, the smoke clearing slowly in the air. But the second your house spots Potter on the ground, a roar like hell erupts behind you. A small smile returns to your face, along with a glimmer in your gaze.

You bow, then stroll over to your opponent, respectfully offering to help him back on his feet. Your face contorts in confusion when he stands on his own, shaking you off.

“Good match, Potter! Nice to meet you.” You extend your hand, finding your soft, yet direct voice.

“Not shaking your hand if you belong to those filthy Slytherins,” he replies, a pang of hurt hitting your chest at the rejection. You’re lost on where you went wrong, all you did was follow instructions.

“She sure as hell does!”

Suddenly, a mass of rushed footsteps approaches you from behind, the boyish voices multiplying as they celebrate your victory.

“Told you to be careful, Potter.” Draco mocks, sending a wink his way. A boy you recognize as Mattheo speaks up next.

“The boy who lived- oh, sorry, I meant the boy who got leveled by a fourth year!” He snickers, taking a stance by your side. He looks to you, nudging your shoulder in encouragement with a gleam of pride in his eyes. His next words are just for you.

“Wicked job out there, darling.”

The closeness of his face to yours sends a shiver down your back, his charming smile luring you in. Harry interrupts, his tone annoyed.

“Run from this lot while you can, Y/N.”

“Paws off, Potter. This one’s ours.” Draco sneers, throwing an arm around you and pulling you close to his side. A blush develops on your face, remembering his sentiment from before your duel.

“That’s too bad, a smart girl like you wasting your time with a bunch of snakes.” He spits.

Theodore, the Italian transfer from Rome, pipes in with his two cents. He’s tall, and intimidating. His mere presence ushers other students out of the way.

“I’d tell you to eat shit, Harry, but you already did.” The diss earns an uproarious laugh from the group. Pansy stands behind you, resting her head on your shoulder.

“Someone’s a sore loser,” she says to Harry in her sing-song way. “Not every legend has a prophecy, mate.” She squeezes your arm, giggling to you and herself.

And to that, he storms away, his Gryffindor friends following after. You turn to the group, unable to produce words after their glowing display of support. They each take their turn giving you hugs and chanting your name, Pansy opting to play with your hair.

“I think you’re our missing piece.” Mattheo proclaims. “We sort of need someone who-”

“Can save our arses?” Theo finishes the thought. “She’s way bloody better at magic than we are.”

“I believe he’s referring to the several… ahem, situations, we get ourselves into… at times.” Draco says hesitantly, his gaze drinking in your every feature, admiring his newest recruit.

For the first time, you find yourself surrounded by people who like you. Who admire you, want you for themselves. They’re actually excited, thrilled even, to make you one of their own. You couldn’t have imagined it unfolding like this, but you’re damn glad it did.

“Should’ve known she was the one when Draco was nearly drooling over her in Potions class…” Pansy interjects. Draco’s face goes wildly pink, unable to hide his bashfulness behind his pale complexion.

“What else can you do, new girl?” Theo inquires, his demeanor mysterious and intriguing.

“In che senso?” You respond, using the very little Italian you picked up on your last summer trip. His face lights up, a wave of sheer attraction and awe written all over it.

He clasps your hand, holding it like a damn trophy. “I think I’ll marry you someday.” He confesses.

Mattheo pushes him away from you in order to regain your attention by offering to carry your books to the next class.

“Allow me, love.” Mattheo says as the boys continue to shove and trip over each other to engage with you.

You nod, shooting a puzzled look at Pansy while the boys gather your things and start to lead the group out. She pulls you aside, linking arms with you, the Slytherin champion.

“They’ve all been pining since they first laid eyes on you, you bloody bombshell.” She jokes, revealing the boy’s truth.

“But then you beat Potter, and well… that sealed the deal. I’ve never seen heart-eyes like that from any of them, let alone all of them.”

You catch Draco staring longingly at the two of you, quickly glancing elsewhere to play off his obvious infatuation with you. You smile and wave to him, biting your lip as he nods your way.

Pansy leaves you with one last thought before you all head to Potions, gesturing her head towards Draco.

“They’re all quite competitive. But that one… that one will end the world for you, Y/N.”

Lethal, you think to yourself.

Because he’s lethal, too.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Taglist: @viperify @chelawrites @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @redeemingvillains @clar2aa

[distantdarlings]

LET ME // t. nott

RATING: R / 4.8K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* Theodore Nott has been harassing you ever since he found out you had a crush on him. Now, you’ve been paired together for a project for McGonagall’s class and he has nothing good in mind.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! (P in V), unprotected, sub!reader, Dom!Theo, slightly rough!dom!Theo, marking kink, slight size kink, bulge kink, brief dumbification, brief spit kink, reader wearing a skirt, light enemies to lovers, language, one (1) slap, name-calling, praise kink, slight degradation, public sex, fem!reader, oral (fem!receiving), Theo is persistent, not proof read (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Echo - XANU

- - -

Merlin, forgive whatever you had done to deserve the treatment you were currently receiving.

You thought back on every negative deed you’d done in the last year and still hadn’t found anything worthy of your horrendous luck.

The arrogant boy turned to stare you down, malicious intent etched into the unfortunately gorgeous features of his face.

You could feel your face contort into an expression of horror as you tore your eyes away from him and turned to Professor McGonagall.

“Professor, I—” you started.

“All partner decisions are final—no exceptions!” McGonagall finished, as if trying to answer the question you had before you could even voice it.

You deflated into your seat, your mood dropping like a brick. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have guessed the entire class was staring at you. The entire student body of Hogwarts knew how you felt about your new Transfiguration project partner, Theodore Nott. The bastard…

You glanced back up—arms crossed and lips pouted—just to find the boy still staring you down, evil smirk painted on his lips. He gave you a sardonic wave, wiggling his fingers tauntingly.

“Fuck,” you sighed, pressing an exasperated fist to your forehead.

Your knee anxiously bobbed beneath the desk, the heel of your uniform shoe beating against the floor in a flurried rhythm.

Luna Lovegood, your best friend, was sitting directly next to you. Intuitive as she always was, you knew she could feel the pure panic radiating off of you. Her hand rested on your shoulder in a small motion of comfort, but nothing could calm you now. You were utterly screwed.

McGonagall finished off the rest of her speech on the instructions for her project, then dismissed the whole class. Luna helped you to gather your things together as you struggled to force yourself to move.

Maybe you’d pissed McGonagall off? Merlin, what had you done to deserve this? You asked yourself the same questions over and over again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you glimpsed Theodore flouncing over to you with an unnerving glint in your eyes.

“Well, aren’t I just the luckiest man on earth?” he said snidely.

“Fuck off, Theo,” you growled, intentionally not making eye contact with him.

You made to pick up your books and slide them into your bag, when he slammed his hand down on the cover of one of them, pressing them down against the desk. He pinned your fingers beneath them against the wood—just enough to keep them sturdy, but light enough so that it didn’t hurt you.

“Stop!” You yanked your fingers out from beneath the books, the heavy leather smacking against the table with a thud. Now, you made eye contact with him.

“What are we going to do our project on, baby?” he asked.

“Don’t call me that!” You yanked your books out from underneath his strong hold and shoved them quickly into your bag. “We can discuss it in the library after class.”

“I’m looking forward to it—I’ll be sure we get a quiet corner, you know…,” he stepped closer to you, “…so I can explore every inch of…the subject.”

You sneered in disgust and pulled away from him, his voice still rattling in your ears.

“You’re disgusting,” you scoffed. “I’ll see you later for nothing more than our assignment.”

“Looking forward to it…can’t wait to put those big brains to use. Lovegood.” He nodded politely to Luna before heading off.

You glanced at Luna and acknowledged her slight smile. Everything in you was telling you to snap at her and tell her not to encourage any of the delinquent boy’s behavior, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to ever be very mad at Luna Lovegood. At least, not for long.

Instead, you rolled your eyes and took off toward the door, bag swinging between your shoulder blades.

“Wait up, friend!” Luna shouted lightly, running to catch up with you. You snorted and laughed at her, letting her sunlight hair fall into step beside you.

- - -

By the time your last class of the day dismissed and the sun had begun to sink beneath the Hogwarts skyline, you were soaked through with nerves. The saturation of your anxiety had managed to breach every protective barrier you held up, and fill your hands with shudders and your stomach with nausea.

The root of your nerves when it came to Theo came from the consistent comments he insisted on making toward you. It seemed that he loved nothing more than dropping sexual hints into your ear every few days just to watch you squirm. He’d only started this after he’d heard through the grapevine you had a bit of a thing for him.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive, and that his words had absolutely no effect on you, but you couldn’t deny that he was just as annoying as he was charming.

It had gotten to a point when he made those comments that he loved to joke aloud about your reactions to him, effectively embarrassing you in front of all of your peers. That was your final straw. All resemblance of an attraction toward Theo had melted away and been replaced by hatred.

And yet, as your feet led you to the grand library, you couldn’t stop the rapid pattering of your heart beat. Something about the boy had always been so…irresistible to you. Whether it was the way he always knew where to place his hands when he “accidentally” brushed you, or how he knew exactly what to say when he pressed his lips against the shell of your ear. You figured you should be grossed out and tell him to get away from you, but, unfortunately, you kind of liked it when he did those things.

As you came up to one of the several library doors lining the wall before you, you decided to try and swallow your nerves and focus only on the project. That was what you were supposed to do anyway—this wasn’t a date.

You pulled one of the doors open and slipped into the warmly-lit room. It always seemed to be just a tad bit cozier here than anywhere else in the castle—whether that was from the multiple fireplaces or the sweet aroma that floated through the air. Either way, you loved it.

Your neck craned as you glanced about, trying to glimpse the cocky boy, but to no avail. Wherever he was, he surely wasn’t interested in making it easy on you to find him.

A sigh left you as you started toward the back of the library where a couple tables rested behind a few conveniently placed bookcases. Unfortunately, the feeling in your stomach told you that he surely would be sitting at one of those tables, simply because you knew how his dirty, little mind worked.

That corner of the library was…infamous for its concealed nature. Everyone in Hogwarts had heard the little rumors that fluttered about, of couples getting a bit too friendly with each other while the librarian was downstairs.

Because of those rumors, it had garnered a reputation. And if someone who had a penchant for gossip slipped past you and Theodore Nott studying back there, you’d be screwed.

Once you passed the last book case, zigzagging between the three that formed the perfect labyrinth, you came upon Theo comfortably waiting at the table in the middle. A groan of defeat left you and your head dipped back. You stared at the ceiling for a few moments while contemplating your options—you could still run away.

“Hello, beautiful,” Theo said, leaning his chin down on his propped up fists. “I’ve been waiting so impatiently for you.”

“Whatever,” you sighed. You crossed over to the table and sat across from him—the farthest away you could get. Your bag collapsed to the ground and unzipped itself on the way down. The things you needed for this assignment floated out and landed neatly on the table before you, including a few rolls of parchment, a quill and ink, and your books.

He marveled silently, seemingly trying to hide his fascination at your wandless magic. Perhaps if he studied as hard as you did, he would also be able to achieve it.

“Alright, shall we do this?” you asked, maintaining a bored expression.

“I’d love to,” he smirked. “But I’d love to showcase a bit of my magic as well, if that’s alright with you?”

“What—?” Your voice was cut off with a slight gasp as all four legs of your chair lifted off of the ground. Your fingers wrapped around the sides of your seat to keep you from slipping off.

Theo’s eyes followed your chair as it floated over the table and all the way beside him. Once your shoulders were inches from his, your chair dropped a few centimeters to the ground. A small yelp came from you as you regained your balance and glared at him. Perhaps he was a better wizard than you thought.

“What the hell, Theo?” you demanded, immediately scooting your chair away from him, putting a good few inches between you.

“I just thought we’d be able to work better closer together,” he purred, his arm dropping against the table to cage you against him and the bookshelf a bit to your left. You eased away from him so you were closer to the shelves than you were to him. His eyes never dropped from yours. “Merlin, what is that smell? You smell absolutely divine—”

“Okay, let’s just get this done,” you interrupted him, pushing his approaching body back away from you.

“Mm, alright,” he smiled. “Have you decided on a topic you’re interested in presenting on?”

“Actually, I have.” You pulled your books across the table over to where the two of you were sitting, flipping everything to the appropriate page. There were a couple pages in your notebook where you’d jotted some ideas down earlier today, and you’d figured he’d want to see the different ideas, as it was his grade, as well. “So, I threw a couple of ideas together in my fourth period. We can see what you think of them…”

As you explained the details of all of your ideas, it became increasingly obvious that Theo was not at all interested in what you had to say about the project. Though you refused to look directly at him, the corner of your eyes granted more than enough knowledge.

Theo’s eyes were ravenous as they drew down your body, curving across the most private areas of your curves with no shame. You could feel your cheeks burning, but hoped the warm tones from the candles around you would conceal that.

When he scooted a bit closer to you, you kept talking. And when he laid his arm across the back of your chair, you kept talking. And when his fingers began to toy with the ends of your hair, you kept talking. But when he took your quill gently from your fingers and set it down on the table, you finally stopped. You barely made eye contact with him, constantly glancing away and down to the table. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears.

His fingers pulled away from your hair and dropped to your shoulder. They squeezed the hard muscles a few times.

“God, you seem tense,” he spoke lowly, his voice barely above a whisper. His other hand reached up and matched the opposite’s position on your other shoulder.

When he placed a gentle amount of pressure, it expressed a small sigh from your lips. He was right. You were very tense—in general, but especially around him.

“Here, let me…,” he stood and appeared behind you rather quickly.

“Theo, I don’t think this is appropriate. I’d really just—” Your voice cut off as soon as he began to roll your taut muscles beneath his nimble fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, pleasurable jolts of pain shocking across your neck and down your back.

“That’s okay, baby,” he whispered, dangerously close to your ear. “Finish telling me about your idea. I’ll just loosen some things up back here. Fuck, you’re so tight.”

He pressed an especially hard drive against your skin. You bit back a moan at the sensation. You don’t think you’d ever had a better massage in your life.

You wanted to tell him to stop, but it felt so fucking good. And you really were sore around your neck and shoulders.

“Theo?” you tried again.

“Read.” His voice had a commanding tone to it. One hand released your shoulder briefly to grab your books and slide them closer to you, before returning to its position against your skin.

His hands worked their way up around your jaw, cupping it gently, so he could press his thumbs against the back of your neck. You audibly sighed this time without intending to. Embarrassed, you attempted to cover it up with a clear of your throat.

You began to explain the rest of your project plan, small shudders rippling through your voice every time he’d hit an especially sore spot.

By the time he finished and pulled his hands away from you, your body was mourning the loss of him but relishing in the relief it felt. It honestly hadn’t felt far off from a professional massage.

“How’s that?” He walked around to your side, still not sitting back down.

“Er, good,” you chuckled nervously, rubbing your hand along the back of your neck, trying to spread the relief around.

“Perfect,” he smiled, gently swiping his index finger beneath your chin. He sat back down beside you.

“So, what do you think?” you asked.

“About what?”

“The project idea…”

“Oh, yeah, I think it’s wonderful,” he said, shrugging a bit. “I think we can work with it.”

“Theo, did you even listen?” you asked, rolling your eyes.

“Of course, I did,” he chuckled. “It’s just not easy to focus when you have such a gorgeous partner.”

There went your cheeks getting insanely hot again. He thought you were gorgeous? There was no way. Someone must have put him up to this, right? Or he was fucking with you because he knew you had had a bit of a crush on him.

“I—er…” you stuttered hopelessly, pulling your eyes away from his.

He placed a hand on your knee. You could feel the warmth of his skin through your tights. The heartbeat in your ears picked up wildly.

“Don’t be nervous around me.”

“What?” you laughed suddenly. “I’m not nervous, I’m just—you’re just really…friendly? I don’t know. Why are you pretending to be so interested in me? Did someone put you up to it?”

“Why would someone have put me up to flirting with you?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Because they know I had a thing for you,” you blurted before thinking. “I mean—”

“Nope! Can’t take it back now, my love.” Theo chuckled, an evil smirk printing across his lips. “And, for the record, no one put me up to flirting with you. I just want to.”

His hand slid up to the top of your knee as he leaned a bit forward.

“Theo!” you hissed. “We’re in the library—you can’t do that.” Though you verbally protested his actions, you couldn’t deny the heat building in your stomach at his touch.

Despite the conviction you had for needing to decline him and all of his advances, you couldn’t seem to suppress the need you felt for him right now—a different kind. His eyes remained on yours and refused to look away.

The two of you were in the library, and had seemed to despise each other’s company only minutes earlier, but for some reason, you couldn’t force yourself to stop his rising hand.

Soon, his fingers were toying with the edge of your skirt and his lips were millimeters from your own. You could feel his gentle breath against your cheeks.

“Theo…,” you shuddered at his proximity. His thumb slid slowly down the side of your thigh, the contact eliciting chills along your legs.

“You’ve wanted me for months,” he murmured, lips brushing against yours. “Are you finally going to let me fuck you?”

You gasped slightly as the tip of his thumb just barely brushed your core through your panties.

“Say yes, or I’m not going to touch you anymore.”

As if on cue, his hands pulled back from you and his mouth seemed to hover a few inches away. The cold air hit the spot his hand had been occupying on your thigh and sent a row of shivers up your spine.

“I don’t understand. Is this a joke?” you shuddered.

He shook his head slowly. “Not a joke, I just want you. Say yes, baby.”

“Y—” before you were even able to get the singular syllable out, his lips were pressing against yours and devouring them like a predator.

His hand found its place against your thigh again, the other hand following suit on the other one. He pushed them up the expanse of your skin, inching your skirts up in the process.

You moaned against his lips in embarrassment at the sudden loss of dignity.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he sighed against your mouth. “Let me taste you.” He pressed his lips roughly back to yours.

You gasped for air and pulled away, noses brushing against the other. “Say please,” you managed to choke out.”

“What?”

“Say please,” you repeated. “What, did you think I was going to come here and just give you whatever you wanted?”

“Oh, that’s how you’re going to be?” he smirked. You stared back astutely, not yielding to any teasing he tried to give.

“Alright, baby,” he conceded. He pulled himself closer to you and worked his way up your neck and to your ear, pressing chaste kisses against your flesh. “Please let me taste this sweet cunt. ‘ve been dreaming about it for months.”

You shivered at his words before nodding. You weren’t in your right mind—you couldn’t be.

He slid out of his chair and dropped to his knees. His hands wrapped around your hips and yanked you to the edge of the seat. His fingers pushed your skirt up around your hips and angled you up toward his face, pulling your legs over each of his shoulders.

The cool air flushed against the hot wetness slathered across your thighs. But the shock of wintry air was canceled out quickly by Theo’s hot mouth placing against your clothed core.

Your head fell back against the chair as your hands flew to his honeyed curls.

He swirled his lips across you, gathering your lust on his tongue. Each time you let a little moan slip, he’d echo you with his own louder one. It wasn’t loud enough to be heard anywhere else in the library, but it was enough to vibrate against you and send your head spinning.

The second your thighs began to shake on either side of his sharp jaw, he pulled away from you, leaving you bare and wanting.

“Turn around,” he panted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Obstinately, you held your chin up and refused to obey him. You wanted to appear strong and resistant as payment for how much of a dick he’d been to you, but with your quivering lips and legs still spread wide for him, you figured you didn’t quite get the point across.

He suddenly grabbed your jaw in one hand, while undoing his belt buckle with the other. Anticipation boiled in your belly.

“Turn around,” he said before suddenly and mockingly tilting his head to the side. “Or do you not understand what’s good for you?”

When you said nothing, he pulled you out of the chair and bent you over the library table. You yelped as your chest collided with the table.

Once on your stomach, he flipped your skirt over against your back and ripped your panties and stockings down your legs until the soaked things were stuck around your ankles.

Then, without another warning, he was sliding into you and stretching you wide. You gasped aloud and gripped at the smooth table, begging to find purchase on anything.

He moaned slightly at the way you clenched around him. He pushed himself into you a little more with each slow thrust, the movement splitting you down the middle. His hands held you tightly in place by your hips, pinning you down against the table.

“Shit, you feel fucking perfect,” he moaned, fingers gripping into your flesh.

Every alarm bell was ringing in your head, telling you to separate and cover yourselves, because you were in public. But, for some reason, you found yourself loving the thrill of possibly being walked in on; of possibly being found with Theodore Nott buried deep inside of you, taking his pleasure from your body.

By the time he’d finally bottomed out inside of you, he was panting and willing himself not to come prematurely.

“I’ve never felt anything this tight,” he groaned.

You hadn’t been able to see the size of him before he started pushing into you, but you had to guess he was the biggest you’d ever felt. Just having his hips pressed to your ass felt like the tip of him was brushing your cervix.

“Ah, fuck, wait,” he said, panting heavily. He rubbed your back as he slowly pulled all the way out of you and stood you up. He turned you around to face him and laid your back against the table.

He brought your legs around him and you hooked them together behind his back. You watched him with deep admiration as his fingers stroked up and down your legs, preparing to explain what he wanted.

“I want to watch me fill you up,” he whispered, leaning down to press a slow kiss to your lips. It was sweet and thick with saliva but, despite everything else he’d done so far, this set off a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.

His hands came away from your legs and wrapped around your waist. He watched addictively as his fingers curled entirely around your body, his large hands positively dwarfing your small frame. And you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes fill with an inky, black glint as he brought his hips to the underside of your thighs.

He placed his dick on your stomach, reveling in how far up your stomach it went. He moaned at the sight and pulled your right leg up and over his shoulder. He pressed a small kiss to the side of your calf.

“Theo,” you whined, still reeling from the loss of him inside of you. “Please, no more teasing.”

“Be patient, baby,” he whispered against your leg. “I want to remember this moment.”

“Theo,” you urged once more. But his hand came down hard against the outer side of your thigh. You yelped at the pain that radiated down the side of your leg.

“I said to be patient.” He soothed the pain gently with his fingers, still looking down at how big he looked compared to you.

One of the things he’d always had on you was height. No matter if the things he said were stupid and undermining, you couldn’t deny that his size was enough to have the high ground.

“Look, we don’t have all the time in the world,” you sighed, leaning up on your elbows to speak with him. “The librarian could walk in here at any—”

He pushed back into you, choking any other words in your throat. You gasped and fell back against the wooden table, the cold lacquer biting into your flesh.

“Fuck,” Theo all but whined. He pressed his fingers against your lower abdomen where his dick had created a perfect impression. Every time he pulled out then pushed back in, his sheer size forced the body wall up and simultaneously probed a spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling backward.

Without wasting another second, he picked up his pace while dropping his hands down to your still-tucked in uniform shirt. He ripped the material out from beneath the waistband of your skirt, and ripped the buttons apart.

The candles floating overhead illuminated the curves and dips of your stomach, highlighting the valley of your breasts.

Hips still pistoning into you, and left hand holding your waist still, his right hand reached forward again and ripped the clip of your bra apart. Luckily, you’d worn the front access one today.

At the force of the destruction, your breasts fell apart from one another, bouncing against your dampened chest.

“Fuck,” he growled. “Gonna mark this beautiful body. Gonna let everyone know you’re mine. My girl.”

His words sent shockwaves through your system. You tried to reach for him but you couldn’t reach. Your arms fell back down against the table, your lack of anything to hold on to leaving you completely at the mercy of the pace he decided to set.

“T-Theo,” you stuttered, your voice breaking beneath the weight of his abuse.

He leaned down, pushing himself all the way into you for a moment, and latched his lips around a mouthful of your left breast. He sucked roughly on the flesh, pulling the blood to the surface. You whined through the pain that mingled with the pleasure from him below.

Once he was satisfied with the bruise painted on you, he moved toward your neck, sucking and biting just as rough, hips never halting.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered. “Tell me how it feels.” He nibbled on your earlobe.

You said nothing, your lips unable to form enough to make any words come out. Your fingers still gripped uselessly at the sides of the table. One leg was held uselessly over Theo’s shoulder while the other dangled limply over the edge of the table.

He leaned up. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”

Still, you made no sound.

“Oh, you pathetic thing,” he whispered, lips pressing to your elevated leg once again. “Am I fucking you stupid? Is that what it is? Yeah, baby? Next time, I’ll shove this dick down your throat and see how quiet you are then, you dumb slut.”

Now, within the final moments before your finish, his thumb dropped to your clit and began to rub small circles into the nerves. Your mouth fell open and your back arched to the ceiling as his hips intensified. They forced your finish closer and closer until you were spilling all over him, coating your legs and his stomach.

At the clenching of your core, his release was barreling forward, as well. He came with a long groan and a slow walk down of the brutal pace he’d set with his hips. His spend, mixed with yours, dripped down your legs.

Finally, with him still inside of you, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to yours. He eyed you sweetly, caressing soothing lines across your temple with his thumb.

“My sweet girl, you did so well,” he whispered against your lips. “Has anyone else ever fucked you so well?” There was that cocky Theo again.

“Maybe like one other person,” you gasped, trying to catch your breath.

“Oh, yeah? Who?” he asked, suddenly grabbing your jaw again and forcing you to look directly at him.

“Hmm, I’m not sure,” you said. “I think I forgot his name. I’ll probably just forget yours tomorrow, too.” You teased him meanly, smirk building on your lips. This was further payback for all the months of harassment you’d dealt with from him.

He pinched your cheeks together until your lips were pushed open.

“You can forget my name, sweetheart,” he whispered roughly, “but you’ll never forget what I just did to this body.”

His eyes watched yours with an intensity like no other. Then his lips pursed, and you watched as a line of spit dropped into your waiting mouth. It was the ultimate display of humiliation, but also ownership. You belonged to Theo, now.

And even if you forced yourself to forget his name or this day in the library, you’d never wipe the taste of his claim out of your mouth.

“Now, let’s get to work on that attitude, shall we?” Theo asked, voice suddenly chipper again.

He pulled out of you and zipped his pants back up, before selecting his bag off of the chair—which you’d now noticed he hadn’t even unpacked.

“Tomorrow at 6?” he asked.

Then he Disapparated, leaving you entirely exposed and alone.

That son of a bitch.

- - -

Tag List:

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[meelusinee]

Can you do Lupin Reader x Theodore Nott and he asks her to go out with him, and Harry,Hermione and Ron are like; 'he's an ass and probably thinks it's a joke because your a werewolfs daughter' but Theodore ends up being either the best boyfriend she's ever had or he makes her believe he is,either way you want to do it <3 or you can do it with Mattheo if you want

this prompt was actually such a good prompt that i wrote a fic almost 5k words long and still wanted to keep going. if anyone wants a part two, please do let me know

LOVE ISN'T BLIND | T.N X READER

word count \ 4.7k | fuliffty fluffnut sandwiches | slash / theodore nott / wolfstar daughter!reader

in which your friends think theodore and you aren't a good pair, but you care to disagree

part one | part two

“You’re a good student, Theodore.”

Theodore winced as the words cut through the air like a sharpened knife cutting through a tomato, his fingernails scratching at his skin and trying to find purchase on the scars. “I know.”

“I know that you know,” McGonagall said, a soft chuckle escaping her throat as she spoke. “You’re a very good student, and I know you know that. I know you don’t put in nearly enough effort into your schoolwork,” she continued, her face fading back to its stern expression at the mild wince in Theo’s body. “But I know that you’re a good kid.”

“I know.” Theo said quietly, his voice weaker than when he first said it.

Theodore had a special relationship with Professor McGonagall, especially compared to his other professors. He had found out that his mother and Minerva were close when she was a student in Hogwarts. When McGonagall had first seen Theo in her office hours, she had gifted him a small scrapbook his mother had worked on during her school years.

McGonagall was the first one to really understand how he felt about his mother. If there was anyone he might view as close to a motherly figure as he could, a woman he would go to in order to try and poorly replicate the feeling of what he lost, it would be McGonagall.

Which is why it hurt so much more when McGonagall reprimanded him.

“I’m sure that Mr. Riddle is a good kid as well, I have no doubt about that.” McGonagall sighed quietly, her quill scratching against the parchment she was doodling on while she talked. Theo had found she had a habit of doodling swirls whenever she held serious conversations. “But I need you two to do something.”

Theo sighed quietly and nodded, picking at his fingernails and cuticles. “I don’t know why Mattheo started fighting that guy, Professor.”

“Were you not there?” McGonagall asked him curiously.

Theo shook his head before shrugging. “Not until the end, I pulled him off. Mattheo still won’t tell me why he got into the fight though, so I’m assuming it was something important.”

McGonagall nodded quietly at that before sighing quietly. “You do understand what I’m saying though, correct?” she asked quietly.

Theo nodded at that, still picking at his fingernails. “Yes,” he whispered quietly, before sitting up a bit straighter in his seat. He never quite noticed the taste of tobacco between his teeth until he was in McGonagall’s office. “I’ve been studying in the library more often. For my Charms exam.”

McGonagall smiled a bit brighter at that. “Have you been working on the Mending Charm?”

“I’ve been trying to.” he groaned quietly, deflating as quickly as he sat up straight. Theo had been struggling with the Mending Charm ever since it had been introduced into the class. While he wanted to master it as soon as he had been introduced to it, he had only been able to mend things like torn paper or a barely cracked rock. “I don’t understand why I can’t mend things the way most people can. I mean, I can do small things. But not big things.”

McGonagall chuckled at that, the soft smile he had grown comfortable with coming onto her face. “Do you think you need a tutor?” she asked amusedly.

“A tutor?” Theo asked, though not in a rude way. Just curious.

McGonagall nodded, a small smirk growing on her face. “I have a student who’s really good with those kinds of charms. She might be able to help you with your Reparo.”

Theo narrowed his eyebrows a bit, noting the smirk on McGonagall’s face. She almost never got that smirk on her face, the last time he had seen it on her face was when he had learned that Dumbledore encouraged the Professors to bet on student relationships in his Third Year. “You’re not trying to set me up with her, are you?”

McGonagall giggled quietly and shrugged simply. “I think you and her could be very good friends.”

“Minnie,” he whined, resting his head in his hands. “You know how I feel about that.”

“I know, I know.” she said, grabbing a biscuit and taking a bite. “But I don’t think that she’s like most of the girls that people try to pair you with.”

Theo raised an eyebrow at that, his eyes observing McGonagall as she spoke. “Really?”

“She’s one of my favorite students, Y/N.” McGonagall said, breaking off a part of her biscuit to hand to Theo. “You the girl that sits near the front?”

Theo felt his cheeks flushing slightly at that. He knew about you, he had known of you for a while, ever since the beginning of this year.

You had transferred to Hogwarts at the beginning of this year, to barely anyone’s recognition. Theodore honestly wasn’t sure how nobody had noticed you. You were like the light of his entire life, a sentence he knows is absurd given that the two of you have never even talked before. He was sure that McGonagall had noticed, Mattheo had noticed how often he would do nothing but stare at you during his classes. Still, he couldn’t help but ask. “You noticed?”

“Course I did.” McGonagall deadpanned. “You only stare holes into the back of her head every class that you have together.”

Theo chuckled a bit awkwardly, picking at his fingernails. “She’s really beautiful.”

“Maybe you should talk to her.” McGonagall said with a smile.

Theo nodded, looking down at his hands resting in his lap. “Maybe I should.”

You were currently studying in the library with Hermione, Ron and Harry. Mainly Hermione and Harry, though he was still groaning with Ron about the workload that they had.

“This is so much work.” Ron groaned out loud, the sound reverberating off of the library walls. There was a small shushing sound from behind the bookshelf, which Ron rolled his eyes at. “Why do they assign so much school work?”

Hermione sighed and flipped through her textbook as he said that, the sound of her highlighter almost loud enough to be a reprimand. “Maybe you should’ve worked on it sooner.”

“It’s Potions class Mione,” Harry grumbled. “Snape always gives us an unfair amount of work.”

“He doesn’t give an unfair amount, right Y/N?” Hermione asked, looking over at you.

You looked up from the book that you were reading, fixing your hair behind your ear as you looked at the workload that the boys had. It definitely was more than you had been given though you also knew that they were ones to procrastinate as well. “It might be a mix of both.”

“I guess that’s fair.” Harry shrugged, much to Ron and Hermione’s dismay.

The four of you fell back into silence again, reading through notes and writing down points for potions and charms that you each were working on. It was silent in a calming kind of way to you, a way that reminded you of home, if only for a moment.

That was until your reading session had been interrupted. “Excuse me?”

The four of you looked up to the voice that was standing above you. You recognized him from your Potions and Transfiguration classes, though you didn’t know much else other than that. His voice was nice and smooth with an Italian accent, much like a smooth kind of red wine. His tie was Slytherin green, tied perfectly into his uniform, and his hair had been brushed recently.

“Yes?” you asked quietly, sitting up a bit straighter. As much as you knew that your friends might judge him for the color of his tie, you didn’t mind it too much. The green matched his face well.

Theodore smiled softly and waved, pointing down at the Transfiguration book you were reading. “McGonagall paired us up for tutoring. On the Mending Charm.”

“Oh!” you said before smiling, sighing internally. McGonagall had told you that you would be tutoring someone yesterday, though you were rather anxious about whether the person you would be tutoring would actually pay attention or not. He seemed to want to pay attention, at the very least. “What’s your name?”

“Theo.” he said, clearing his throat. “Theodore Nott.”

You smiled and closed your textbook, packing your bag and offering to go to a different section of the library. “We can study there, they have Silencing Charms around the study area.”

Theo nodded quietly before walking off to the area you had mentioned, leaving you with Harry, Ron and Hermione. The library seemed to get silent at that moment, almost ridiculously so.

“What?” you asked them confusedly.

Ron was the first to speak, his eyebrows furrowed confusedly. “You’re tutoring Nott?”

You shrugged simply. “I guess so,” you muttered quietly, looking to Harry and Hermione in confusion. Theo didn’t seem like a bad person, at least not from what you had seen. “That’s not a bad thing, is it?”

“He hangs around a bad crowd.” Hermione muttered under her breath. Her voice seemed darker than it usually was, something that confused you. “You know, Riddle and them.”

“I mean, he’s probably not as bad as them.” Harry muttered quietly, looking over at Theodore. He was setting up the area that you had pointed him to, since the desks and the chairs were never set up properly. “I’ve never heard much about him, not unless it’s about him pulling someone else out of a fight.”

“See!” you said with a small smile, adjusting the strap of your bag. “He just seems quiet.”

“He’s a womanizer, ain’t he?” Ron said, face contorting in disgust.

You rolled your eyes at Ron’s words, looking over at Theo again. You could definitely see it, especially with the tiredness in his eyes. He was a conventionally attractive man. “At least he can understand women.” you rolled your eyes, looking over at Ron with a teasing smirk.

“Hey!” Ron pouted. Hermione chuckled quietly, with Harry laughing a bit louder. Ron rolled his eyes again before sighing. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You rolled your eyes back. “If Nott hurts me, then he’s gonna have to deal with my dad.”

“Yeah, yeah I know.” Ron said. “But still.”

Harry chuckled and closed his book, stretching out his back. “If anyone can handle themselves, it’s Y/N, Ron. Pads trained her with that stuff.”

“Ron still has a point.” Hermione said quietly. “I don’t know if I’d trust Nott either.”

You rolled your eyes again at that, taking the rest of your stuff and placing it all in your bag. “I’ll be fine.” you said, waving them goodbye and wishing them well in their studies.

You had been having study sessions with Theo for a couple of weeks at this point. He was a very talented student, so talented you weren’t even sure why McGonagall gave him tutoring lessons in the first place. Regardless of whether he needed them or not, he had them anyway. Which meant that the both of you wasted time talking to each other.

You learned a bit about what he was passionate about. He loved to read and write, especially poetry that was mellow and dramatic. He liked tea and Italian wine, and he liked the smell of cigarettes and weed at the top of the Astronomy Tower after a stressful day. You found yourself quite liking the scent of cigarettes and weed too, especially from his lips at the top of the Astronomy Tower. Theo told you about how he loved the stars, how his mother was resting there and how he liked to imagine them shining down through her love.

It was something that warmed your heart, a sentiment so mellow and sweet.

You learned silly things about Theodore as well. He was a sarcastic and sassy man, sassier than most that you knew. He had a knack for getting drama and dirt on others, though you doubted he’d use it unless he truly needed to. Not unless he wanted to talk gossip with you, something he had apparently never been able to do. You also learned that he hated a lot of petty things, some tiny things that had you howling on the floor.

You seemed closer to Theodore than you seemed to anyone else. Your friends were put off by it at first, especially Ron, though you tried not to pay them any mind. You went about your school days hanging around all four of your friends, at least until winter break came along.

The both of you were resting in the Astronomy Tower together, the bite of the wind reminding you of the fact that you would both be going home in the morning, even if temporarily.

“Are you going to go home for the holidays?” Theo asked quietly. His voice was thicker than usual, especially his accent. “Or are you gonna stay here?”

“I’m going home.” you chuckled quietly. Your voice was quite hoarse from screaming earlier, the both of you flying around in the empty Quidditch pitch. The rain had bit at your skin and peeled it off, at least it felt like that was what happened. “My dads would kill me if I didn’t.”

“Dads?” Theo asked curiously, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked over at you. You had never noticed how full they were until now, the both of you huddled together on the floor for warmth.

You looked over at him with furrowed eyebrows as well. “What?”

“I didn’t know Lupin was gay.” he muttered quietly.

You shrugged simply. “I mean, he’s been with women before. But he’s married to my other dad.” you explained to Theo, looking at him with a tilted head. “Does that bother you?”

Theo shook his head instantly, chuckling quietly. “Not at all, I think it’s cool. I just didn’t think he was.” he said to you. “What’s your other dad like?”

You shrugged again before leaning your head on his shoulder. “He’s way louder. A drama queen. I think you’d like him.” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his for warmth. You weren’t quite sure why the air seemed to be freezing more than usual. Maybe it was the water still in your hair, which had poofed quite a bit.

“He sounds fun.” he whispered, resting his head back on yours. “I don’t know if I’m going to go home.”

“Do you want me to stay with you?” you asked him, looking up at him.

Theo shook his head. “I don’t want to keep you from your family, that’s cruel.” he whispered quietly, a small smile forming on his face. “Mattheo’s probably gonna stay and annoy the shit out of me. As long as we can send each other owls and whatnot, we can be apart for just a couple weeks. Right?”

You smiled softly at that. “Definitely.”

Theo smiled at that, his hand linking with yours. You felt your cheeks warming slightly. You had only just now realized how close the two of you were, especially with physical contact. What scared you most was how easily you had become accustomed to it, but what scared you more was how much you craved it when you didn’t have it.

“We’re going to have to go soon.” Theo whispered quietly.

You shrugged simply, head still resting against his shoulder. “I have my bag packed already.” you said. “As long as I leave here before the sun rises, I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe we can rest here for a bit?” he asked. There was something in his voice that you couldn’t pinpoint, though you wanted to say it was hopeful. “Just an hour or two.”

“Or maybe three.” you giggled quietly, cuddling closer to him.

“Y/N, my love!” Sirius called out, his body quivering with excitement as soon as he saw his daughter entering the house again. Remus was walking behind him with a cane, the last full moon having broken his leg in a way that hasn’t mended just yet. Sirius, as attentive as he was to Remus’ injury, seemed to forget about him completely in the face of their daughter.

Remus couldn’t really blame him either.

“You’re late!” Sirius pouted as he pulled you into a hug. You had to get Floo Flame access to the house through McGonagall’s office, though Remus or Sirius had been given a reason why. Nothing more than a letter from Minerva to ask you about it. “And you had to get Floo powder!”

“I’m fine, Dad.” you chuckled, dragging your bag into the room. “Can I go unpack before you barrage me with questions?”

“Of course you can.” Remus said with a small smile, kissing your forehead before letting you go upstairs. He noted a couple of new scars on your body, though nothing too major from the most recent transformation.

Sirius and Remus watched as you walked upstairs before turning to face each other, calculating expressions on the both of their faces. Ron and Hermione had come to them earlier after they had unpacked all of their clothes with concerned expressions on their faces. Remus had listened carefully when they expressed their concerns about you and Theodore, how they didn’t believe that Theodore would be a good influence on you.

Sirius seemed way more dramatic about it than he needed to be, though Remus was sure it was more for the fun of it rather than any potential danger. Remus tried to listen to Ron and Hermione’s concerns, as dramatic as they sounded from them, with an open mind.

He knew of the kid they were talking about through his year of teaching at Hogwarts, which quickly led to Sirius interviewing him as soon as Ron and Hermione had left the room.

A bright student that might not have put his whole foot into the assignment, but enough effort to have his grades worth something. He was a quiet student though, he didn’t get into much trouble. And as much as Sirius pouted about him potentially being a womanizer, Remus was sure that he wouldn’t get worse than Sirius was at Hogwarts.

“I’m back!” you called out, walking into the room with your pajamas.

“You look amazing, dove.” Remus smiled, pulling you into the hug he hadn’t been able to get earlier. “How was school this year? Did you have fun?”

“Oh yeah, tons!” you smiled brightly, jumping up and down a couple of times. “Can I tell you guys about it?”

“Be our guest.” Sirius smiled brightly.

Remus offered to make tea while you talked about the school year. It definitely had its downsides with Umbridge, who you were finally able to talk about now that you weren’t being tracked by her and her devices. But it was also a good year too. You had hung out with your friends, your grades had been good, and you had helped Harry establish the DA inside of the Room of Requirements. Sirius and Remus found themselves laughing at many different times during the stories of your escapades, though it eventually mellowed out when Sirius took his final sip of tea.

“Dove,” he said, clearing his throat and resting his hands on the table. “We had something we wanted to ask you about.”

“You do?” you asked confusedly, looking over at Remus who seemed just as confused. “We do?”

“Yes, we do!” Sirius pouted. “Ron and Hermione have informed us that you may or may not be hanging out with a Slytherin boy, who may or may not go by the name of Theodore.”

You rolled your eyes and groaned, resting your head on the table. “Dad!”

“Was that really that much of a big deal?” Remus asked amusedly.

“Course it is!” Sirius wailed, his hands waving aimlessly in the air. “He’s a Slytherin! What if he’s using you to steal the Gryffindor’s Quidditch formula so that way they can beat the Gryffindors. I cannot stand even the thought of such atrocities.”

“Dad,” you groaned out loud. “Quidditch is cancelled, he couldn’t do that anyways.”

“She cancelled Quidditch?” Sirius asked dramatically, though Remus knew that he felt sadness running through every bone of his body from the news alone. “That’s a crime!”

“And I know that Theodore wouldn’t do that anyways.” you said, your voice much more collected in comparison. “Even McGonagall trusts him! She set us up in the first place.”

“McGonagall set you two up?” Remus chuckled out.

You sputtered out for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah, she had me tutor him.” you muttered quietly to the both of them. “For the Mending Charm. Though I think she just wanted us to hang out, he was rather good at it anyways.”

“Oh, the classic tutoring.” Sirius sighed wistfully. “You know, McGonagall did that for James and Lily too back in our Sixth Year. Worked like a charm.”

You smiled softly at that. “He really isn’t that bad. Ron is just being dramatic.”

“Do you like him?” Remus asked curiously, taking a sip of his tea. He drank his much slower compared to Sirius.

You looked down at your cup of tea, which had barely been touched in your rambles. “I think so, but I’m not sure.” you whispered quietly. “We were cuddling last night, you know? Talking about stuff. He’s still staying at Hogwarts for Christmas.”

“Umbridge?” Sirius asked with a raised eyebrow.

You shook your head quietly. “His dad sucks.”

“You could’ve stayed with him if you wanted.” Remus said.

You shook your head again, this time a bit louder. “I would’ve. But he said I should come home. Family’s really important to him, you know?” you said with a soft smile. “His friend’s staying.”

Sirius and Remus looked at each other before smiling at that. Remus knew that Ron probably had a wrong perception, though he wasn’t aware it was going to be that wrong. He did, however, know that you were being genuine. “That’s a lot better than I thought it’d be.”

Sirius chuckled and shook his head. “Ron and Hermione were being rather dramatic, weren’t they?”

“What on Earth did they even say?” you asked exasperatedly.

“Nothing much,” Remus chuckled. “Other than that Theodore was a major ass, and probably thought it was a twisted joke to mess with you because you're a werewolf's daughter.”

You groaned loudly, slamming your head on the table. “Oh my God.”

“But,” Sirius said, a small smile on his face. “If he treats you well, and you love him truly, then I don’t think there’s an issue. Right Moony?”

“Exactly.” Remus said with a smile. “I’m sure that as long as he knows I will kill him should he hurt you, that whatever you choose to do from here will be a very healthy relationship.”

You chuckled loudly at that, standing up from your seat to give them both a hug that Sirius returned a lot quicker than Remus could. “I love you two.”

“We love you too, dove.” Remus whispered quietly, a small but proud smile on his face.

“Y/N!”

You looked up as you heard Theodore’s voice echoing through the halls, eyes blinking open in confusion. The lights around you were blinding to say the least, but they soon calmed down as you saw Theo move them to the side. “Theo?”

“What on Earth happened?” he gasped out.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion before looking down, sighing quietly.

Your body was covered in bruises and cut marks, all from the night before. The full moon had been violent this month, a vision piercing through your mind that had led you to lashing out in the Shrieking Shack. You were usually never violent to your other self, unlike your father, though you still sometimes inherited the anger.

It seemed like tonight was a night you did.

“It’ll heal up.” you whispered quietly, looking over at Theo again. There was a pained expression on his face. He was obviously the first to know your night had gone sour, since you hadn’t heard from Hermione, Ron or Harry yet. “I promise.”

“Did someone do this to you?” he asked, looking you in the eyes. You immediately noticed the venom in his voice, and almost wanted to chuckle at it. He was so protective of you it was almost like a comedy show. Just earlier that week he had dragged you to the Slytherin Common Room when you came back early from your Yule break, and he had almost punched Mattheo square in the jaw for an offhand comment he thought was about you. Turns out that Mattheo had been looking at a completely different person, much to his luck.

You supposed that it was fair, all things considered. You both worked out the kinks of your relationship that night when you came back, which ended in a long session of kisses and affirmations of love whispered into the starry night shining just outside of the Astronomy Tower.

Even still, you weren’t sure how Theo would react to you being a werewolf. He knew of your father’s condition, every one of his students did, but not of yours.

You supposed there was only one way to find out.

“I did this.” you whispered.

Theo looked at you confusedly, in the sort of way like he thought you were lying more than the way like you didn’t make sense. “You did this.” he deadpanned out.

You shrugged simply, sitting up a bit straighter with his help. “You do know I’m a werewolf, right?”

Theo looked up at you, before looking down at the claw marks and the bruises again. “What does,” he muttered confusedly, eyebrows furrowed like he was trying to solve a rather hard Ancient Rune tome. “I know that lycanthropy can be genetic. But I didn’t know that werewolves harmed themselves on full moons.”

“Most usually don’t.” you shrugged, a great sigh leaving your mind internally. He was more observant than you had given credit for. “I guess it was just a bad night.”

Theo felt his eyebrows furrowing even further. “Is that where your father got his scars from?”

“Mhm.” you nodded. “His leg’s healing from last month’s moon still.

Theo nodded before pulling you into a kiss. It wasn’t like the kisses the both of you had before, it wasn’t harsh and demanding. No lust was present in the ridges of his tongue, no wanton need or burning desire for something sinful hidden in the cracks on his upper lip. There was only love. A pure love, one that you weren’t sure you had ever felt before.

It was warm like the sun on a summer’s morning, wrapping your soul in a blanket so cozy you were positive you never wanted to leave this kiss. If you weren’t of a more practical mind, you’d think that this kiss was a cure to all of your ailments. You might even believe that now.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” he whispered quietly, his eyes locked with yours.

You scoffed quietly. “I would’ve hurt you.”

“I bet you were beautiful.” he said, a small but smug smirk on his face. “I wouldn’t mind dying to your claws.”

“Theo!” you smiled ridiculously, swatting his arm. “You’re insane.”

“I can be anything for you.” he winked, before looking over at the door to the Hospital Wing. “I should probably get going. Your friends are coming.”

You frowned softly at the door, noticing that Harry was holding it open for Ron and Hermione. No doubt they were way behind, he always walked faster than most. “Will I see you again?” you asked him quietly.

“Of course.” he smiled, biting his lip as he tried to figure out how he’d get out without being seen.

‘Harry doesn’t mind you, you know.” you whispered. “I’m sure he’d let you pass.”

Theo looked at you with a grateful smile, kissing your lips before walking over to the door. You were sure Harry had seen everything, a theory based nothing more than on the smirk he sent your way and the look he gave to Theo. Not a mean look by any means, nothing more just a protective look. Theo seemed to understand it, nodding quietly with a small smile before walking out the infirmary before Ron and Hermione approached.

You were glad that he came first. You felt rather glad for everything, really.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

this one took a lot longer than i was anticipating for a lot of reasons. i got sick, it's long as hell, had schoolwork beating my ass sideways and got really into watching arcane when i quite honestly should've been writing, but i finally got it done! sorry for the long wait anon, but i hope that this story fits your prompt's idea!

AS ALWAYS - please like, comment, and reblog! love ya!

[junezsq]

dance practice

harry potter x fem!reader

summary: professor mcgonagall’s dance class suddenly gets interesting when you have to dance with your best friend turned crush

warnings: none really? triwizard champion things

word count: 1.5k

a/n: p1 of this small 3 part yule ball storyline (within my storyline) i came up with,,, can you tell where it is leading after this part? hope you enjoy x

── ᵎᵎ ✦

the air was thick with a mixture of nervous energy and excitement as you sat in the hogwarts great hall, awaiting professor mcgonagall's instructions. the long tables had been pushed to the side to clear a space for whatever you and your housemates would undoubtedly have to practice. you were seated next to hermione, with the other gryffindor girls, on one side of the hall, while all the boys were seated opposite you.

the humongous horn stood in the middle of the hall had immediately caught your eye the moment you’d entered. the castle’s caretaker, mr. filch was fumbling with the sound while mcgonagall spoke, “the yule ball has been a tradition of the triwizard tournament since its inception.”

mr. filch stopped the static at professor mcgonagall’s sharp words, “on christmas eve night, we and our guests gather in the great hall for a night of well-mannered frivolity.”

“as representatives of the host school, i expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward.” while hermione was listening eagerly you couldn’t help but let your thoughts drift.

your gaze flickered to harry, who was sat on the opposite side of the hall. he was still sporting a sling on his arm after his brush with the dragon in the first triwizard task; it made your heart twist a little.

“…and i mean this literally, because the yule ball is, first and foremost, a dance.” mcgonagall’s words immediately caused an uproar in chatter amongst your housemates. hermione nudged you, her lips curling into a grin, but before she could utter a word your professor’s voice rang throughout the hall, “silence!”

“the house of godric gryffindor has commanded the respect of the wizard world for nearly 10 centuries. i will not have you in the course of a single evening, besmirching that name by behaving like a babbling, bumbling band of baboons.”

mcgonagall had been one of your favorite professors ever since starting at hogwarts, and luckily enough she was your head of house too; she was one of the most strict professors at hogwarts, but she was also kind and caring. “now, to dance is to let the body breathe. inside every girl, a secret swan slumbers, longing to burst forth and take flight.”

you smiled at her words, she was an incredible storyteller also, “inside every boy a lordly lion prepared to prance.” from the other side of the hall, ron’s chuckles echoed and filled the room. you glanced at him and harry the moment professor mcgonagall turned towards him, “mr. weasley.”

“yes?”

“will you join me, please?”

your eyes widened, glancing to hermione at your side. she looked over at you with a knowing smile, her eyes twinkling with amusement. you both tried to suppress your laughter, but it was impossible not to find the idea of ron attempting to dance with professor mcgonagall particularly hilarious.

ron, who seemed blissfully unaware of your shared amusement, stood up awkwardly and followed mcgonagall to the center of the floor. “now, place your right hand on my waist.”

“where?” the redhead asked with wide eyes.

“my waist, and extend your arm.” one of the boys from your house whistled as professor mcgonagall tried to show ron the steps, “mr. filch, if you please.”

the caretaker turned on the music, which started playing through the horn, and you watched — trying your utmost best not to laugh — as professor mcgonagall and ron waltzed through the great hall. “one, two, three.”

you glanced across the hall, catching harry’s eye; he was watching his best friend with an amused look. when your gaze met his, you couldn’t help but smile, your stomach fluttering. harry raised an eyebrow at you, a knowing grin playing at the corners of his mouth, and for a second, it felt like you were the only two people in the room.

“everybody come together! boys, on your feet”

and just like that your view of harry was blocked by your housemates, all enthusiastic to find a boy to dance with. you groaned inwardly, dreading the process of finding a partner. after looking around the room and not being able to spot anyone who looked like they were itching to dance with you, you decided to stand up and take matters into your own hands.

why was this so complicated?

you walked around slowly, trying to keep your cool while you were still searching for a partner. you bumped into a few of your housemates, but no one seemed to be looking for a dance partner. the panic of not being able to find someone started to rise, but then you collided with someone.

“sorry!” you blurted, looking up to see none other than harry potter himself standing right in front of you. you felt your heart leap into your throat, and for a moment, you couldn’t find your voice. “oh, harry!”

“it’s alright,” harry offered you a smile. the sling on his arm shifted slightly and he winced, trying to adjust it without causing too much discomfort. “i guess we’re both a bit lost, huh?”

you blinked, the words coming back to you as you smiled. “yeah, looks like it. you’re, um, you’re sure you’re up for this? with the sling and all?”

harry glanced at his arm and shrugged, “i’m not exactly a dancing expert anyway. what’s the worst that could happen?” his grin was cheeky, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “well, you might trip on your own feet, but I’m sure you’ll manage.”

harry raised his eyebrows playfully, “i’ll try to avoid that, then,” he quickly stepped into position with you. his left arm rested a bit awkwardly, but he seemed determined to make it work. you, on the other hand, couldn’t help but notice how close you were to him now. his presence was comforting, though, and the awkwardness that had been gnawing at you slowly began to fade.

“alright, let’s do this,” harry spoke, his voice calm but just a little nervous. he held his left arm out so you could slip your hand into his, feeling the warmth of his touch. the music was still softly playing in the background as you both began to move, a bit clumsily at first. harry was trying his best to lead, but with one arm tied up in a sling, it was clear he was struggling.

when he stepped on your foot you giggled softly, “you know, you’re not really making this easy on yourself.”

harry grimaced, trying to shift his weight without jarring his injured arm, “i didn’t exactly have a choice. how am i supposed to dance like this?” he gave you a mock glare, but his eyes were sparkling with amusement. “you’re not going to hold it against me if i trip again, are you?”

“of course not,” you grinned. “i’m sure i’ll trip too.”

as you continued the dance, it became a little easier. you both stumbled through the steps, but it was definitely way more fun than either of you expected. you found yourself laughing at how ridiculous it was, and harry’s laughter, free and light, made everything feel a little less serious.

“so,” harry spoke up, pulling you out of your concentration, “yule ball, huh? got a date yet?”

you blinked, surprised by the question. your heart started racing in an entirely different way now. “no,” you answered, trying to keep it casual. “i haven’t really thought about it. to be honest, i’m not sure i could find someone who doesn’t make me want to run in the other direction,” you joked lightly, trying to mask the slight blush creeping up your neck.

harry chuckled, “fair enough. i haven’t exactly been rushing to find a date either.” he looked at you, his face thoughtful. “since, you know, it’s not just the ball that’s on my mind.“

you nodded sympathetically, “i understand, but maybe it won’t be so bad. you can at least relax for a bit, right?”

“i guess so. it’s just… weird, you know?

“you’ve been doing really great, harry.” your eyes gazed over his features as you spoke, “i’m proud of you, already, and it’s only been te first task.”

a grateful smile grew on the ravenette’s lips, “thanks.”

you continued to move through the steps, the conversation flowing easily. harry seemed more at ease now, and you were glad to be able to help.

when the music came to an end, so did your and harry’s slightly amateur dance moves. harry grinned, looking down at his sling. “well, i didn’t trip. that’s a win, right?”

you laughed, your chest light with amusement. “definitely a win, and hey, we didn’t break anything.”

“yet.” harry’s grin slightly turned into a small smirk, “we didn’t didn’t break anything, yet.”

you stepped away from each other, still chuckling, and you realized you’d had a lot more fun than you expected. maybe dancing wasn’t so terrible after all — especially when you were sharing it with someone like harry.

as you watched him join the other boys, you couldn’t help but feel that little flutter in your chest again. the yule ball, it seemed, might be a lot more interesting than you thought.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

SOUNDTRACK // close to you, gracie abrams

TAGLIST // @callsigncrushx @moonjellyfishie @pussyslayerhd @accio-mayachhiato @ezrafrss @iyskgd @bakugouswaif

[httpvomitello]

A Man with a Pretty Face and a Slutty Waist .｡*･ﾟﾟ

Summary: Sirius has always enjoyed receiving compliments, and has received many of different types, but he didn't expect to be praised like that by you. And in front of his friends.

sirius black x f!reader

Sirius Black had heard many things about himself in his life.

Some called him charming. Others, reckless. McGonagall preferred a menace to the sanctity of Hogwarts (her words, not his). But what he had never been called—at least not directly—was what had just come out of your mouth.

"A man with a pretty face and a slutty waist."

Sirius blinked. "I—what?"

You smirked, biting into an apple, looking thoroughly unbothered.

Remus choked on his tea. James dropped his quill. Peter just gaped at you, like you had physically knocked the wind out of him.

"What did you just call me?" Sirius asked, half in amusement, half in offense.

You leaned against the Gryffindor common room couch, taking another slow bite of your apple, dragging out the moment as if it wasn’t killing him. "I said what I said."

Sirius stared at you. You stared back.

James was the first to break.

"Slutty waist?" He repeated, wheezing. "Oh my Merlin, that’s the best thing I’ve ever heard."

Remus, still trying to recover from his near-death experience, wiped at his mouth. "Where did you even get that from?"

You shrugged. "Just the truth. He’s got a tiny little waist and a dramatic flair. It makes sense."

Sirius scoffed, crossing his arms. "I am not tiny-waisted."

You gave him a once-over, slow and deliberate, before quirking a brow. "Oh, love, you so are."

James leaned back, laughing so hard he nearly fell off the couch. "Pads, she’s got you there."

Peter nodded solemnly. "Yeah, mate. It’s undeniable."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "I don’t need this betrayal from my own friends."

"You strut when you walk," Remus pointed out, smirking.

"I do not strut."

James and Peter nodded in unison. "You do."

Sirius threw his hands up. "Unbelievable."

You, the absolute menace that you were, leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand, eyes glinting with mischief. "It’s not a bad thing, Black. It just means you’ve got style."

Sirius narrowed his eyes at you. "This feels like an attack disguised as a compliment."

"Can’t it be both?"

James howled. "Merlin, I love her."

Sirius rolled his eyes, but you could see the faintest hint of pink dusting his cheekbones. "You’re insufferable."

"And you," you countered, standing up and tapping a finger under his chin, "are just mad that I’m right."

Sirius tried very hard to remain unaffected, but the way you were looking at him? That smug little grin? It was dangerous.

Before he could think of a proper comeback, you turned on your heel, tossing your apple core in the bin with impressive precision. "I’ll see you at dinner, boys."

And with that, you walked away, leaving four very stunned Marauders in your wake.

Sirius stared after you, mouth slightly open, processing what had just happened.

James clapped him on the shoulder, grinning like a madman. "Mate, I think I’m in love with your girlfriend."

Sirius blinked. "My what?"

Remus sighed, taking a sip of his tea. "You’re doomed, mate."

Sirius, for once in his life, had nothing to say.

[minlcna]

mcgonagall's ball lessons | george. f. weasley

george weasley x muggle!fem!reader

note: i know it's been a while since i posted..tbh i lost my momentum in writing and posting and lost my inspo as well. i can't say that i love this but it's been in the drafts long enough. im thinking of starting to take requests but im not sure if yall want that lmk in the comments! otherwise enjoy this

synopsis: you dance with george once and all the of the sudden rumors zoom around faster than a snitch

warnings: one swear word, punching pansy and draco, mentions of having kids/contraceptives (?)

word count: 2.7k

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

The Yule Ball was its utmost effort for arriving, and today was the day Professor McGonagall, in all her glory, was to teach all eligible Gryfidors how to dance. 

"The Yule ball has been a tradition of..." she started, raiding her voice, warning Flich of his tampering with the gramophone. 

"...the Triwizard tournament since its inception. On Christmas Eve night, our guests and we gather in the great hall for a night of well-mannered frivolity."

"As representation of the host school, I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward. And I mean this literally because the Yule is, first and foremost, a dance. 

Chatter and grumbling broke out instantly. You exchanged knowing glances with Alicia next to you. This could go either two ways: really bad or just bad enough. 

"Silence," she called with strictness. 

"The house of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the Wizard World for nearly 10 centuries. I will not have you in the course of a 

behaving like a babbling bumbling band of baboons," she continued. 

You saw George lean over to Fred, and you saw the lips mimicking the shapes of McGonagall, treating her words like tongue twisters. You pursued your lips to hold in your smile. 

"Now, to dance is to let the body breathe. Inside every girl is a secret sworn Slumbers longing to burst off and take flight, and inside every boy is a lordly lion prepared to prance," she trailed off as she noticed George and Fred mumbling. 

"Mr. Weasley, it was so kind of you to volunteer. Now, from the ladies, who will it be?" she questioned as her eyes trailed face to face down the row. 

You pretended to reach into your nonexistent pocket, trying to appear busy and unsuitable choice. 

"Miss L/N, please make your way to the center." she smiled. 

You inwardly grimaced, which also showed outwardly, as evidenced by your friends' giggles and teasing eyes. You slowly stood up and made your way to the center before George. 

You weren't sure whether it had been the pressure of everyone watching and quite possibly waiting to make fun of any little thing or the fact that George Weasley looked exceptionally pretty up close. Like really pretty, really close. 

"Now, Mr. Weasley, grab L/N's waist with your right hand. No—that's your left hand—your right hand, yes." She directed patiently as the two of you awkwardly followed the directions. 

Your right hand had met with his left, and you had to slightly get on your tip toes for your left arm to grasp his shoulder comfortably. Giggles and whispers erupted as soon as your heels lifted on the ground. Your face flushed red in embarrassment. You knew your friends and the entire house of Godric wouldn't let you forget this. You were not short by any means; the Weasley twin was just too tall. 

As if the giggles and uncomfortable position of standing on your toes weren't enough to infuriate you, George smirked at your attempts to match his height and pace. You had been caught off guard when the music suddenly started playing, and rather than swaying, you had been being pulled and jerked from your position. 

Unfortunately, Godric's heavy pride coursed through you, and your determination flooded to prove yourself to the already full-on snickers and cackles, the loudest recognizably being Alicia's.

"Relax a bit, will ya, love? My hands fall off," he whispered discreetly in your ears, and your face flushed darker than George's hair. 

Thankfully, Professor Mcgonallal ceased your embarrassment by stopping you halfway and pairing everyone to learn. Each second felt excruciating, as it was the very first time you held hands with a guy—a handsome guy. 

You swore you heard Professor Mcgognall join in the giggles when you walked beside your friends, noting her eyes follow George with Fred right behind. You wondered if she knew. 

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

By the time the period had ended, the entire castle had heard how the Gryffindor dance lessons proceeded. Probably record time, probably faster than anyone could ever say Merlin's saggy left bollock. 

You were already tired of Alicia and Angelina trying to match you with George despite your neverending denials of being passionately in love with him until death from just dancing with him. Now, the entire school had joined in on it. You could only grumble and protest under your breath as you became the castle's favorite gossip pastime.

Of course, the Slytherins took a rumor and ran with it. They had found a new way to taunt the Weasleys and a new toy to torment them. Any other nemesis of the twins also took part. 

One instance was when you had been rushing off to grab breakfast leftovers when you heard, "Running to meet Weasley, eh? Should've gotten up earlier to snog him in time for breakfast!"

Your first strategy was to ignore and flip people off. That hadn't been enough because the sneers got worse. You avoided any signs of ginger hear throughout the castle. The scarce accounts of you locking eyes with Geroge, and he had just given a curt nod with his permanent smirk. 

You couldn't help but scoff. Fred had helped defend you once or twice, but that was it. It's all his fault, and all he does is laugh.

You couldn't help but direct your anger towards George. You knew it was heavily misplaced, but you couldn't do anything. No amount of insults, swearing, or mummy/daddy abuses ceased the talks. If only they made it worse. 

You wanted to confront the redhead, but the words refused to form in your mind. Just the thought of speaking to him made your tongue feel heavy, and your cheeks flush with heat. Your fingers itched to intertwine with his warm ones, and your whole body yearned to be close to him. But as soon as those urges surfaced, you shook your head vigorously, side to side, until the world spun around you. Being dizzy was easier to endure than the whirlwind of those forbidden thoughts.

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

You were standing in the courtyard during one of the breaks, waiting for lunch, when a sharp pain exploded at the side of your forehead. A heavy glass vial had struck you, clattering to the ground after impact.

"Hey, L/N," a taunting voice drawled. "Might wanna grab some contraceptive potions before you sleep with Weasley, or you'll end up breeding more than gnomes."

You bent to pick up the vial, your fingers curling around the cool glass as your brows furrowed in confusion. Then the realization hit, and your expression hardened into a sharp glare. The vial contained an actual contraception potion from an apothecary. Spinning on your heel, you locked eyes with the culprit: a blonde smirking devilishly, flanked by his entourage, their snickers biting at your ears.

"I'd shut your mouth if I were you," you said through gritted teeth, voice low and deadly. "Unless you want that ugly goblin shit you call a nose smashed into your skull." Your grip on the vial tightened, your knuckles blanching.

Goyle erupted in a guttural laugh but quickly silenced himself when Malfoy shot him a glare. Around you, the crowd stirred—murmurs of excitement spreading like wildfire. More students trickled into the courtyard, drawn by the rising tension, their curiosity adding weight to the charged atmosphere.

"Oh yeah?" Malfoy sneered, his lips curling in mockery. "What are you going to do? Call your filthy blood traitor lapdog to defend you?"

Pansy Parkinson's shrill giggle cut through the air. "Draco's just trying to help, you stupid Mudblood. But it looks like you'll happily pop out another Quidditch team full of losers."

The words hit like a slap to the face, and before you realized it, the vial slipped from your fingers, and your fists were flying.

The first punch landed solidly against Malfoy's jaw, snapping his head to the side. The collective gasp of the crowd barely registered in your ears as rage overtook you, a red-hot wave that blurred the edges of your vision. He stumbled back, but you weren't finished. You swung again, this time catching, hitting Pansy's nose, and then again, letting every ounce of frustration and fury you'd bottled up over the past few weeks pour into each strike.

The courtyard erupted into chaos. Malfoy's lackeys tried to pull you off, but you shoved them away. His smug smirk was gone, replaced with a wide-eyed expression of fear and pain as he weakly raised an arm to shield himself.

The crowd surged, students yelling and cheering, their voices blending into a cacophony. You didn't care. All you could see was green—your vision clouded with pure, unrelenting anger. You kept swinging, your fists aching, but it didn'tmatter. The satisfaction of each hit was the only thing grounding you.

Finally, strong hands grabbed your arms, hauling you backward. You kicked and struggled, breath coming in ragged gasps as the adrenaline coursing through you demanded you keep fighting.

"As much as I'd love for you to beat him to a pulp, love, I don't want to see you expelled." the captor of your arms whispered. Your body froze instantly, and you tried to catch a glimpse of the speaker. You noticed red hair peeking through the corners of your eyes. 

"What in Godric's name is going on here?" the demanding voice asked, her sharp gaze cutting through the chaos. The crowd instantly silenced, students shrinking back under her scrutiny. Even Malfoy's friends, who had been so vocal moments ago, averted their eyes.

You froze, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath. The adrenaline still buzzed under your skin, but McGonagall's presence was like a cold bucket of water poured over you. Slowly, your fists unclenched, and you realized your knuckles were bruised and raw, faint smears of blood marking your fingers.

Professor McGonagall's lips thinned into a hard line. "Enough. Everyone—back to your business! This is not a spectator sport!" She turned her gaze back to you and Malfoy, her expression unrelenting. "The rest of you, to the Headmaster's office. Now."

Malfoy groaned as he struggled to his feet, favoring his side. "She attacked me!" he protested, his voice nasally and strained, no doubt from the blow you'd landed on his nose.

"And I have no doubt there's more to the story," McGonagall snapped, her tone brooking no argument. "But we'll deal with that where it's appropriate. Move along, Mr. Malfoy."

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

The altercation between Malfoy and his gang and you had been carefully investigated and justly judged. Professor McGonagall, despite her strict nature, was surprisingly in your favor. George had also vouched for you, following you into the rotating staircase despite your attempts to elbow him off. He called the harassment ruthless bullying. 

Parents were summoned, but despite them coming so, your highly modest and conservative mother refused to let the Parkinsons and Malfoys get a word out. To her, a lady's womanly issues were not to be discussed in the open nor ridiculed. 

With two strong defenders, your mother and your professor, you got away with just detention and could still participate in the ball.

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

It was the first snow of the year, and you were trapped in the Hogwarts kitchen. You had detention every Saturday morning, wehre your task was to scrub cauldrons. You needed to buy the last bits of accessories for the ball but had asked Alicia to pick them up since you were busy scrubbing. 

Your fingers were numb from the rigor. As you brought the sponge towards you before pushing it forward, it shifted away from your hand. A frown accompanied by a tilted brow; you expected it to fall into the pot. Yet it continued to scrub and shell the cauldron—just like magic. 

The second the thought crossed your mind, your head swung in all directions. Your eyes met the fellow leaning on the door frame with crossed arms and wand out—the ever so familiar missions glint in eyes and smug smirk. 

"Hello, m'lady," he said as he went right before you. You tilted your head slightly to the side with a questioning look. 

"What?" he asked incredulously. 

"Why are you helping me? This is detention, you know," you replied, trying to gauge his purpose in visiting. 

"Yes, this is. As a man, I must, however, take responsibility for my lady's actions. You are, in fact, here because of me; is that not correct?" he replied more boisterously. 

Your cheeks burned, a combination of frustration and embarrassment.

“First of all, I’m not ‘your lady,’ and second, no one asked you to play knight in shining armor. I can scrub cauldrons perfectly fine on my own.”

George's grin widened, unfazed by your tone. “Oh, I can see that, love. You’re scrubbing so well, you’ve almost got that cauldron to sparkle like new.” He gestured to the pot that was now gleaming under the enchanted sponge’s tireless efforts. 

“But wouldn’t you rather spend your Saturday doing something less…” He paused, twirling his wand lazily, “…soul-crushing?”

You crossed your arms, glaring up at him. “And why would you care how I spend my Saturday?”

He shrugged, still smirking. “Call it a guilty conscience. Or maybe I just missed your company. You’ve been avoiding me ever since our little dance lesson, haven’t you?”

Your jaw tightened, the memory of that mortifying class flashing in your mind. “I haven’t been avoiding you,” you said stiffly.

“Oh no?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur that sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine.

“So it’s purely coincidence that every time I walk into a room, you suddenly remember an urgent errand in the opposite direction?”

You scowled, willing your heart to stop fluttering like a caged snidget. “Maybe I just don’t enjoy being the subject of every stupid joke in the castle, thanks to you.”

George’s expression softened, his smirk fading into something more genuine. “That wasn’t my intention, you know,” he said quietly. 

“I mean, I like a good laugh as much as the next bloke, but not at your expense.”

Your resolve faltered slightly, but you kept your arms crossed. “You didn’t exactly stop it, though, did you? All those rumors, all those stupid comments…”

“I didn’t stop it because I thought you could handle yourself,” George admitted, his gaze locking with yours. “You’re clever, tough, and brilliant. But maybe I underestimated how far people would take it.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and the warmth spreading through your chest was both comforting and infuriating. 

“Well,” you said finally, your tone softer than you intended, “maybe next time, don’t underestimate how annoying people can be.”

George chuckled, his usual mischief returning. “Duly noted. So, what do you say? Truce?” He extended his hand, his lopsided grin making your stomach flip.

You hesitated, eyeing his outstretched hand suspiciously. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said, his grin widening. “Just a chance to make it up to you. Starting with getting you out of this dungeon and into the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer. My treat.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m still in detention, Weasley.”

“Details,” he said with a dismissive wave of his wand. “I’m a master of mischief, remember? If anyone asks, I’ll say I kidnapped you.”

Despite yourself, a small smile tugged at your lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming,” he quipped, holding his hand out again.

This time, you took it—his hand warm and steady in yours. It was the second time you’d ever held a boy’s hand, and somehow, it felt like the first time it truly mattered.

Professor McGonagall watched from a shadowed corner of the kitchen, arms crossed, her lips twitching upward in an uncharacteristic smile.

"Ridiculously charming, indeed," she muttered softly to herself, adjusting her spectacles. "I always knew those two would find their way to each other."

With a final glance at the pair sneaking out of the dungeon, hand in hand, she turned briskly on her heel. Her work was done—for now. After all, guiding her Gryffindors, even in matters of the heart, was just another part of the job.

[ethereacals]

so american <3

CHAPTER ONE: ALL AMERICAN B####

summary: Remus grows attached to an American transfer student from Ilvermorny.

trope: idiots in love, grumpy x sunshine, slight fast burn

pairings: remus lupin x gryffindor!american!reader

pt; 1-?

contents; people make fun of readers accent, reader was a thunderbird but is now a gryffindor

wc; 1.9k

new part every friday

THE LONG AWAITED DAY HAD FINALLY ARRIVED

Ever since your mom and dad had let you know that they had gotten job offers with the british Ministry of Magic, you couldn’t wait to finally become a student at Hogwarts.

Sure— Ilvermorny had it’s specialties, but Hogwarts? Hogwarts was easily the best wizarding school in all of the world.

And that’s why you simply couldn’t wait to attend.

You had heard so many incredible things about the teachers, the castle, and even the students.

Though— the excitement wasn’t necessarily fending off the nerves.

You were coming in as a 5th year, a 5th year who had no friends, no house, and no grasp of any sort of british wizarding culture.

People had started their friendships as first years, and closed their inner circles off to outsiders looking in.

So that left you to try and find some sort of place in the world, and everything was new and scary.

Admittedly— it did feel a bit embarrassing as you sat on the boat took 1st years across the Black Lake.

You towered over them, but in this technicalities (except for age and height) you were the same as them.

As the boats neared the boathouse; your anxiety seemed to grow.

Again, you felt a bit silly standing amongst the young 1st years as Professor McGonagall explained the houses and their attributes to everyone before entering the infamous Great Hall.

“Welcome to Hogwarts. Now, in a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you can take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Now while you're here, your house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you points. Any rule breaking, and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup.” McGonagall smiled warmly, as she answered a few questions from the 1st years with ease.

Allegedly, the ceiling was enchanted to look like a clear night sky.

You couldn’t wait to see it, Ilvermorny had nothing like that.

Back to the houses, you had always wondered what house you would be placed in— even before you attending Hogwarts was a blip on anyone’s radar.

You were a proud representative of Thunderbird back home, hopefully you would make them proud.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, with a swish of her wand— the doors to the Great Hall opened.

Revealing the four large tables, each seemingly representing a different house.

The stares and whispers that followed your arrival were nerve-wracking, you stuck out like a sore thumb.

“All right, will you wait along here, please? Now, before we begin, Professor Dumbledore would like to say a few words.” Professor McGonagall explained, stepping aside so the 1st years could see.

Dumbledore rose from the main table in the center.

“I have a few start-of-term notices I wish to announce. The first years, please note that the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden to all students. Moreover, swimming in the Black Lake is strictly prohibited unless you would like to become lunch for the giant squid who resides inside. Thank you.” Dumbledore seemed to smile softly at you— probably because he could sense your nerves.

Even people at Ilvermorny would boast about Dumbledore.

“When I call your name, you will come forth. I shall place the sorting hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your houses.” She began to call up 1st year after 1st year, as chatter rose over the students— seemingly chatting about who was getting placed where.

“Y/N L/N.”

When your name was called, the hall went silent.

You could nearly feel the prying eyes burning into your skin as you stepped up to the stool.

As she placed the hat down on your head, the battered old thing sprung to life.

“Ah… different from the rest, are we?” He inquired, shifting around on your head uncomfortably.

“Y-yes.. I suppose.” You stuttered quietly.

“A Thunderbird, were you? I believe I know where you go.” He began, the anticipation was thick in the air.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

He shouted, and cheers erupted throughout the room. Even McGonagall seemed pleased.

You stepped down from the stool, and towards the Gryffindor table when—

“Psst, Psst!” A ginger-haired girl called you over, a warm smile on her face as her two friends looked in your direction.

You walked towards them, and slid yourself down into the empty seat on the bench.

“You, you’re the new fifth year?” She questioned nicely.

“Yes, I am” You smiled, as her smile dropped— her eyes lighting up in surprise.

“Y—You’re american?!” Her blonde-haired friend exclaimed in bafflement, her hands slamming down on the table as food appeared on the table for the great feast.

“Umm, yes..?” You looked around at the three girls, and one of them gave you a smile.

“I’m Mary, Mary Macdonald. Since these two don’t seem to be giving you a proper introduction— This is Lily Evans, and That’s Marlene Mckinnon.” She stated simply.

“Oh, come on, Mars. I was just about to introduce myself.” Marlene rolled her eyes playfully, and gave Mary a small nudge.

“I’m sorry if we made you feel uncomfortable, I mean— I’ve never met an American before.” Lily apologized, her smile returning to her freckle-stricken face.

“It’s alright, I understand.” You laughed, beaming at Lily.

“Well— This is my one of my boyfriends, Jame— James!”

Lily looked over at James disappointedly, as he was seemingly trying to steal from her plate.

“Sorry, my love.” James smiled guiltily, before turning his attention to you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N” He shook your hand strongly.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, James.”

His eyes widened comically in response to your response.

“Y—You’re american?” He whispered from across the table, as if he was asking something highly inappropriate.

You giggled, “Yes, I am.”

“Pads, Pads!” Sirius grabbed the shoulders of the boy next to him and jostled him around to get his attention.

“Merlin’s tits— What, Prongs?” Sirius sighed exasperatedly.

“Here— Y/N, say hello again.” James asked of you.

“…Hello.”

Sirius gasped rather dramatically, his eyes nearly widening the same as James’

“She’s… You’re.. not… british?” You bursted into a fit of laughter with Lily, and Sirius looked baffled.

“Wait— Wait— In America… What do you call it when two people snog?” He asked, as Lily shot him a glare.

“What does “snog” mean?” You asked innocently.

“It basically means when two people kiss feverishly.” Marlene explained, as Sirius playfully eyed you up and down.

“I could always… show you?” He joked flirtatiously, and earned a painful jab into the ribs by James.

“So, you mean making out?” You answered, still a bit confused.

“Making out? How uneducated.” Sirius huffed, turning back to this plate full of food.

Suddenly— You met the auburn eyes of a quiet, scarred, gentle giant whose skin was a lovely shade of olive, and littered with freckles.

“Hi, Y/n. I’m sorry about them.” He spoke, leaning over Mary to speak with you.

“It’s alright, I promise.” He didn’t seem very phased by your accent, but on the inside— it drove him crazy.

“My name is Remus, Remus Lupin.” He smiled gently, that smile must have been hand-picked by angels.

“It’s great to meet you, Remus.” You beamed at him.

“You aswell, Y/N”

And that was the day that Remus Lupin fell head over heels for the sweet American girl.

FOR THE NEXT FEW DAYS, Remus throughly enjoyed watching you discover the abundance of magic in Hogwarts.

To you— it seemed like everything was new and exciting.

It felt like everything was new and exciting for him, too.

And for once, Remus actually cared about the place he had honestly been taking for granted for five long years.

Perhaps it was the way that your eyes lit up every time you happened upon an enchanted painting, or all of the questions you asked regarding the logistics behind the giant squid.

For whatever reason, Remus found you extremely intriguing.

Though, Remus vowed he would never tell you.

It would be his last wish in life to force anything upon someone as lovely as you.

So, he stayed quiet.

"Remus, I don't understand!” You sighed exasperatedly.

“What do you mean there’s a room that shifts itself into anything you require? How?” You pointed your finger at the door that had just appeared out of nowhere on a blank wall on the way to the Astronomy Tower.

“No one really knows, Dove. Sorry.” Remus cooed, patting your shoulder consolingly as he led you to Astronomy.

Remus was the only one of your newfound friends that had decided to take Astronomy this year, seeing as Sirius and James took it last year just to get it over with.

You quite enjoyed looking at Remus, admiring how his unexplainable scars were illuminated by the moonlight shining in from the large open walls.

Even in your few first days at Hogwarts, you could tell that you would grow to adore it.

You might have adored spending time with Remus even more, and you were especially in luck since Professor Sinistra assigned three hours of star-charting and you were to do the assignment in partners.

So, that's why you and Remus were up at the Astronomy Tower at 2am on a Friday (with a teachers excuse to be up past curfew).

"Do you ever miss your parents when your away at school?" You asked Remus.

He was certainly the quiet type, and that intrigued you.

"Sometimes, but I usually see them over Christmas break. I mainly write them letters after every full moon." He stated simply, before realizing what he accidentally slipped out.

"After every full moon?" You questioned, furrowing your brow as he seemed to quickly explain himself.

"It's a thing... my mum insists upon." He evaded any other questions regarding the matter, much to your chagrin.

He wished he could open up to you, but he still basically didn't know you.

He had no knowledge what-so-ever on your views on Werewolves.

He couldn't risk destroying a friendship that could eventually be the purest and most authentic he'd ever had.

Sure, James and Sirius were incredible mates, and so was Peter.

But for some unexplainable reason; Remus could speak to you.

He never felt uncomfortable with talking about his thoughts or feelings around you, and he only could hope that you felt the same.

You were both different, well- different but in two very significantly different ways. But you were still two individuals who didn't really fit in with the crowd.

"Have you missed Ilvermorny, yet?" Remus gazed towards you as you switched places. You on the telescope and him charting what you find.

"Same as you, really. Not much, even though I haven't been here for long yet. It feels a bit more... homely, than Ilvermorny ever did." You admitted, concentrating deeply on the assignment.

"I understand, It was probably an interesting change." Remus related deeply.

"An interesting one? Absolutely, but a welcomed change, for sure." You smiled, turning back to face him and explain to him what you had seen in the stars.

Oh, yes. This was the beginning of something truly beautiful.

[weasleysbliss]

𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

pairing: george weasley x gryffindor!reader

summary: when y/n is asked to tutor george weasley, she expects nothing but chaos. but as their study sessions turn into moments of laughter and vulnerability, what starts as an obligation blossoms into an unexpected romance.

word count: 2.7k

➽────────────────❥

You were the top student in your Potions class—well, pretty much in all of your classes. With an average just shy of 100, you managed to outdo your friend and academic rival, Hermione Granger. Sometimes, you couldn't help but wonder how you weren't placed in Ravenclaw.

You were patiently waiting in Professor McGonagall's office, as she'd asked you to be there at 10 a.m. sharp. It was already 10:05, but you didn't mind. After all, she had hundreds—if not thousands—of students to deal with every day. You couldn't imagine being in her position; it must be incredibly stressful.

You saw Professor McGonagall quickly walk into the office. "Sorry, dear, I wasn’t expecting to be late. I had to deal with one of the twins again. Fred and those fireworks he won’t stop setting off... I can’t seem to catch a break," she said, clearly irritated. You chuckled.

Fred, along with his twin George, were infamous for their pranks—especially their fireworks. You weren’t particularly close with the twins, though you knew George from Potions class. You’d never really talked, but you’d heard plenty about their mischief. This definitely wasn’t the first time they’d caused trouble.

"No worries, Professor, I’m in no rush,” you reassured her. “Speaking of Fred, I actually called you in here to ask if you'd be willing to tutor his brother, George. His struggle is with Potions, and I know you’d be a great help, Miss L/N."

Her request caught you off guard for a moment. You had no problem tutoring anyone—especially since you were confident in all of your academic abilities. But George? Would you even withstand a single session without him pulling at least ten stunts on you? Despite not exactly wanting your "client" to be George, you couldn’t let Professor McGonagall down.

"Yes, of course, I'd be delighted to tutor him." Not that you were exactly thrilled. You didn’t have a problem with George, but you could already imagine the chaos his pranks would bring. If he pulled anything on you... well, you’d just have to pray you could withstand it.

Nonetheless, you had high hopes.

"Lovely! You both can start tomorrow at 6 p.m. in the library," she said. "I will let him know about the schedule. You'll be expected to tutor him three times a week. I have no doubt his grades will improve with your help." She gave you a warm smile, clearly pleased that you accepted her request.

You returned her smile and made your way out of her office. Now, all that was left was to wait for your first session tomorrow evening.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The next day, 6 p.m. rolled around much faster than you anticipated. You spent most of the day going over your notes and brainstorming effective ways to tutor him.

You found a seat in the library, one that George would be able to see when he walked in. Shortly after you settled in, his tall, lean figure appeared in the doorway. Your eyes met for a moment, exchanging weak but genuine smiles, before he walked over and took a seat beside you.

"Glad you came, Weasley," you said, a hint of sarcasm in your voice, though it wasn't meant badly. "Not like I had much of a choice, y’know. McGonagall practically twisted my arm…" he laughed. "But I have to admit, I was pretty lucky to get you as my tutor. You’re brilliant, Miss L/N—though I probably shouldn’t inflate your ego too much." You chuckled at how formal he sounded when using your last name.

"Yes, well… I'll try my best to make this session quick and effective. I'm sure you have plenty of other things to do outside of this," you said, scrambling through your notes. "Don’t worry about it, I’ve got all the time in the world," he assured, smiling. His comment made your cheeks heat up, but you quickly brushed it off as you laid out the notes.

"Right, let's begin!" you cheerfully said.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Nearly 45 minutes into your session, everything was going smoothly. You’d covered most of the first topic you wanted to go over, and George seemed to be doing well with it so far. However, there was just a little bit left of the lesson to finish.

"Okay, and finally…" you began, but you were cut off when you noticed the cup of ink you had dipped your pen in was gone. "Oh… did I misplace it somewhere?" you said, your voice tinged with confusion.

"Have you seen the cup of ink, George?" you asked, still looking around in a frenzy. "No," he replied simply, his nasty and mischievous smirk making it clear he knew something you didn’t. "George, stop messing around. Give it to me," you said, trying to remain calm. You only had a couple more things to explain, and you were ready to be done. You weren’t having it with his pranks, though you knew they were coming.

The cup of ink came into clear view when George stood up, holding it high above his head. "Reach for it, if you dare," he laughed, knowing full well you wouldn’t be able to reach it. "George, cut it out!" you said, clearly annoyed. You didn’t even try to get it; it would be impossible unless he brought it down some inches shorter.

Seeing the irritation on your face, George finally lowered the cup, holding it out in front of you. Just as you reached for it, he quickly pulled his hand away, making your face burn with embarrassment. "George, stop! We’ve been here for an hour already, don’t you want to leave?" you said quietly, trying to keep your frustration in check.

"I dunno, there’s just something hilarious about you when you’re mad," he said, a grin slowly creeping onto his face. He finally placed the cup on the desk, your eyes following his hand. Now, you can get back to finishing the lesson.

Once the session came to an end, you both discussed when you'd meet again—two days from now. "Same time, same place. Don’t be late," you said, your tone firm. "Right atcha," he replied with a playful salute before spinning on his heel and heading out of the library.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The next day wasn't one of your tutoring days, but you decided to sit next to George in Potions class. After all, you were tutoring him in the subject, and you figured it’d be a good chance to get to know him better outside of academics.

"Well, well, well," he sang as he saw you take a seat next to him. "Oh, shut up," you said, swatting his arm playfully.

For the entire period, you both got to know each other on a more personal level. Not too personal, but enough to now be considered 'acquaintances'.

George Weasley wasn’t as bad as you’d expected.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Next day, second tutoring session.

You and George met up at the same spot, same time. Library, at 6 p.m.

"Okay, now that you’ve learned what I taught you a few days ago, it’s time to apply it to an actual potion. This is when you’ll actually make one." you said, pointing to the empty glass tubes.

You handed him a piece of paper with a specific potion written on it—the one you’d ordered him to make. He took the paper and got to work. You watched his every move, from the way he added the ingredients to the tube, to the way his hands moved.

Something about his hands intrigued you. They were veiny, slim, and just perfect overall. Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by a loud explosion-like sound.

Your gaze immediately shifted to the glass tube, where black smoke was billowing out and clouding the air. He must’ve added the wrong ingredient.

"Guess I didn’t quite hit the mark with the studying, did I.." he muttered quietly. Yeah, clearly. The notes you’d given him to study had gone to waste—he’d messed up one of the easiest potions to make.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, but despite the mistake, a laugh escaped you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Another two days later, another tutoring session awaited you.

This time, you really hoped George’s effort would get you somewhere, rather than wasting both of your time.

"Believe it or not, I actually did some studying this time. Turns out your notes are pretty brilliant—who would’ve thought?" he said as you both stepped into the library. "Wow, Weasley. I’m impressed, but let’s see if it paid off," you replied, smirking at his comment.

You handed him another potion to make, this one more difficult than the last. To your surprise, he actually perfected it. It warmed your heart knowing he’d put in such great effort.

"Told you," he said, showing off his creation like a nine-year-old flaunting a Lego set he’d built.

It was nice seeing him improve, finally succeeding in something he’d struggled with, all with your help.

"Nice one, Georgie!" you cheered, patting him on the shoulder. "Trust me, if you keep this up, you'll be in the high 80s."

"Yeah, I definitely need that. A 52 isn’t exactly something to brag about, is it?" He said, a bit embarrassed, but with a playful tone. He had clearly exposed his grade, a bit more than he intended.

Your hand was still on his shoulder, but neither of you seemed to mind. You didn’t think of letting go. "Don’t let yourself down. We all start somewhere. And you’re getting better—thanks to me," you said, flicking your hair away as you emphasized your contribution. He laughed at your sassy move, clearly amused by your confidence.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Another session went by, then another, and many more after that.

You were seeing George every day—whether it was sitting with him in Potions class, during your occasional tutoring sessions, or even grabbing coffee and lunch together now and then. Though those outings weren’t exactly romantic, they still felt special in their own way.

He'd made immense progress, and it was clear when he told you he was averaging an 85 in the class.

Just like that, in two months, he’d gone from a 52 to an 85. Needless to say, you were proud—of both yourself and George. You felt accomplished, knowing you’d successfully helped a student improve their grade, and proud of George for sticking with the sessions and putting in the effort.

Despite his rare pranks and annoying moments, he made the sessions much more fun than they should’ve been.

Rather than being professional and straightforward, the sessions almost always turned into the opposite—filled with laughter, inside jokes, casual flirting, and lessons that took far longer to finish because of it.

You didn’t realize it at first, but those two months spent together had made you develop feelings for him. Not a full-blown crush, but something close. You’d gotten to see the things that made him attractive, and more importantly, a good person.

His lean, masculine figure, his hands, and his noble, humble, and brave personality made you realize he wasn’t all chaos and jokes.

He was exactly your type—almost everything you'd wished for in a guy. His good looks weren’t something he flaunted; instead, he prioritized maintaining a reputation for being generous and courageous.

You admired that about him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

On one particular tutoring session, which was close to being one of your last—since he was already excelling in the class—you both shared a moment you'd never forget.

After your usual laughs at one of his ridiculous jokes, he suddenly shifted the atmosphere, his tone turning serious.

"Y/N, you do realize this is one of our last sessions, yeah?" He asked.

"I know. I’m going to miss moments like these. But hey, it’s not like we won’t still have class together! And I see you every day, stop being dramatic," you replied, playfully shoving him, earning a chuckle in return.

"I know, but I feel like these sessions are what really built our friendship. Honestly, if McGonagall hadn’t set this up, I’m not sure where we’d be." He said.

What he said was completely true, and you’d even considered it yourself. Where would you guys have ended up, in terms of your relationship, if Professor McGonagall hadn’t played matchmaker? It was like a butterfly effect.

"Yeah, I don’t think either of us would’ve spoken to each other," you laughed. In your defense, you wouldn’t have talked to George back then. You’d thought very differently of him.

"You're right. I'm scared of pretty women," he said.

That one simple comment made a thousand, if not a billion, butterflies erupt in your stomach. He always knew exactly what to say to earn a blush from you.

You were too flustered to respond, so instead, you shot him a small, shy smile, afraid you’d say something you would regret.

"I’m glad she paired us together, though," he said, breaking the silence. "Well, I happen to like you—a lot, actually. And somehow, it all snuck up on me so fast." he confessed.

His words sent your heart racing, pounding faster than it ever should. This was one of the rare moments where both of you were completely vulnerable and serious with each other.

"I’m really glad you enjoyed my company, Georgie. Honestly, these sessions meant more to me than just schoolwork." You hesitated for a moment, a small smile on your face. "You make me feel so… at ease. Like I can just be myself. And, well, I didn’t expect to get so attached, but here I am."

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, and his eyes widened slightly at your statement. For a moment, panic gripped you.

Oh gosh. What if he didn’t mean it like that? What if he only sees me as a friend? Did I just romantically confess to him? Am I dreaming? Get a grip, Y/N!

"You like me, L/N, don’t you?" he said, not even posing it as a question.

Your cheeks flushed instantly at the sound of your last name on his lips.

You couldn’t outright deny it—that would be a lie. But admitting it felt too direct, too vulnerable.

Standing against one of the library tables, you avoided his gaze, your lips sealed as you struggled to find the right words. Deep down, you knew the truth—you liked him.

He stood from his seat and stepped closer, closing the space between you. His finger lightly grazed your chin, gently tilting your face to meet his eyes.

"There’s only one answer," he murmured. "Let’s not lie now."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you fumbled for a response, finally managing a soft, unsure, "Maybe."

By now, your bodies were so close that his warmth seeped into you, making your breath hitch.

"I thought so," he said, his voice low and almost teasing, his gaze locking with yours.

Your eyes remained locked on his, staring into the rich, chocolatey depths of his gaze.

"Y’know, you’re not exactly subtle about how you feel, Y/N. But lucky for you, I’m happy to help," he said, his voice soft but confident.

Confusion flickered across your face for only a moment before it was replaced by the warmth of his lips pressing against yours. One hand found the small of your back, the other resting gently at your waist. The world seemed to stop as you froze in the moment, every part of you except your lips paralyzed by the intensity.

Your lips moved in sync with his, creating a rhythm that sent heat coursing through your body. Slowly, your hands unfroze, snaking their way around his neck and pulling him closer.

As if the ten seconds of kissing weren’t enough, George seemed in no rush to stop. His hands moved to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly and setting you on the table behind you.

Now, with nothing to steady but each other, you let yourself melt into him.

His hands slid from your thighs to your hips, his fingertips brushing the fabric of your skirt. Your own hands stayed around his neck, tugging him even closer until there was no space left between you.

The kiss was electric—otherworldly. It wasn’t just passion; it was connection. It felt like bliss, the kind of moment you never wanted to end.

This wasn’t your first kiss, but it was the first one that made you feel completely and utterly alive.

Unbeknownst to either of you, every tutoring session had been its own lesson—a lesson in love.

[my-castles-crumbling]

prank - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 308

"Thank you for meeting with me, Mister Black and Mister Lupin," Professor McGonagall said stiffly as she led the two men to her office, looking tired. "I know the hour is late."

"It's Mister and Mister Lupin now, Minerva," Sirius corrected, gripping his husband's hand and peering around the halls, memories flooding through him. "I seem to remember you getting rather tipsy at the reception."

"Hm. Well, old habits and all," McGonagall said as she seemed to fight back a blush. "But no matter. We are here about-" she opened the door and led them into her office, "-your godson."

The godson in question was sitting in a chair, head down, looking both upset and angry.

"Harry!" Remus called to him, making him look up. "What happened?"

A furious mumble fell from Harry's lips, but nobody in the room caught what he said.

"What?" Sirius asked, confusion clear on his features.

"I-" Harry cleared his throat and bit his lip before continuing. "I turned Snape's hair pink. And...and when he tried to turn it back, I made it so it just...fell off."

A shocked silence followed, both Sirius and Remus fighting for their lives trying not to laugh. In a choked voice, Remus tried to say diplomatically, "That...Harry, you can't..."

But Sirius burst out in tearful mirth, his laughs echoing in the small office. "That's bloody genius, that is! Gods, what a prank! Prongs would have been so proud, Haz!"

Relaxing from his defensive posture and breaking into a smile, Harry lit up. "Really?" he asked, like he'd just been given the best compliment in the world.

"Of cou-"

But McGonagall stepped in, looking livid. "You two are obviously no help," she growled. "Just leave."

And, still laughing, Remus and Sirius hugged their godson, reminded him to invite Ron and Hermione to visit that summer, and headed home.

[marauroon]

just james and the reader being unapologetically in love??

like i’d imagine james loving so hard during his hogwarts days especially, he just has to show you off

S H A M E L E S S — JAMES POTTER!

when james loves, he loves hard.

james potter x fem!reader | 0.9k | fluff | masterlist!

a/n — thanks for the request lovely 🫶

James all but ran over once he caught sight of you in the hallway, a bright, sunny grin on his face. “Hey, pretty girl.” He spoke fondly, slinging an easy arm over your shoulders.

“James,” You hum softly as a greeting, allowing your fingers to tangle with his as they rest against your collarbone. “How was potions?”

“Boring as always.” James replied, rolling his eyes, “I swear I’ll go mental if I have to make another batch of Living Death. It’s so damn easy.”

You turn your head up towards him, a faux pout gracing your lips. “Awe poor potions genius, god forbid you have an easy class,”

“You know exactly what I mean, Miss Smartass.” James huffed amusedly, tugging gently on a loose strand of your hair.

“Hey-!”

“You’re so cute.” James chuckled, grinning as he continued to toy with the piece of your hair in his hand, an unabashed fondness in his expression.

You’re halfway through opening your mouth in response when a well-timed ‘cough’ drags the two of you out of your shared bubble of solitude.

“Do you two have somewhere to be or are you just loitering?” McGonagall raised an eyebrow at the two of you, a flicker of affection in her tone as you stares at the two of you, seemingly unimpressed with how jovial you are.

“We are simply enjoying each other’s company, Minnie.” James quipped, and he certainly appeared to be enjoying your company, his hand sliding out of your own to rest on your hip.

“Enjoying it a little bit too much, Potter.” McGonagall replied, but there was no real anger behind her words.

“Awe, come on Professor. We weren’t even doing anything.” James grinned, turning his best puppy eyes on her.

McGonagall just huffed faintly, her expression fond. “Try to keep the pda to a minimum, would you?”

“Ah, but you see, Professor, then how would the world know how hopelessly in love I am with her?”

James was never one to be subtle, and every word that came out through his lips was filled with truth.

He was always very eager to prove to the entire world that you were his.

McGonagall let herself chuckle faintly, but did not falter in her sternness. “Yes yes, but do keep it to a minimum in the halls, hmm? Save the declarations of love for the privacy of the common room.”

“Of course, Minnie dearest. Anything for you.” James teased, removing his hand from your hip to give McGonagall a mock salute.

She rolled her eyes at that, looking somewhat exasperated, but her affection for the boy was still plain.

“Off with you the both of you.” McGonagall huffed finally, waving a hand at you both.

James flashed one last cheeky smile, before taking your hand in his.

“Come on, love. To the common room we go.” He spoke, before pulling you gently along the corridor.

You roll your eyes affectionately at James as you follow his lead, looking back over your shoulder to give a fleeting wave back to McGonagall. “Bye Professor!”

“Try not to look so happy, will you?” McGonagall huffed, though her expression was fond as she watched the two of you walk away, blinding smiles on your faces . God she had a soft spot for the two of you.

It truly was young love in its purest form.

And she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t endeared by every sight of it you so shamelessly displayed.

“You know, I’ve been thinking.” James spoke, swinging your hands in his as the two of you wandered down the corridor.

“Oh wow, now that’s a surprise,”

“Very funny, love.” James rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips.

“Anyway, I’ve been thinking.” He repeated. “You know that Hogsmeade trip we’re going on?”

“Mhm,” You nod agreeably, a gesture for him to continue.

“Well, I was thinking instead of hanging around everyone else, we go on our own.” His smirk grew as he looked at you, “It’ll be a date, just the two of us.”

You laugh shortly, tilting your head to the side with a small raise of your eyebrow. “Seriously? You’re gonna skip out on planning destruction so we can go on a date?”

“Aah, but it’s a date with you love.” He replied, lifting your hand up to his lips, “Besides, I’m sure the boys can cause chaos without me.”

He started to kiss your knuckles one by one, smiling against your skin.

“And it means I can spend some quality alone time with my favourite girl…”

A sharp laugh echoes across the courtyard, your laugh, right as McGonagall turns the corner, and she just barely catches the sight of James sweeping you off your feet through one of the alcoved windows to carry you back to the common room.

So much for limiting your pda.

But it was almost heartbreakingly endearing.

How was she supposed to get mad at that?

How could anyone possibly see such an unconditional display of affection and feel anything but endearment?

You were so happy together.

James was always a ray of sunshine, but his light only burned brighter whenever you were around. And that was evident to anyone who ever caught a glimpse of the two of you together.

[calamitoustide]

i'm thinking about eighteen year old Regulus being stuck in a time loop of the day he dies again and he spends months worth of time just letting the day pass him by because he's just a kid and he's so scared to die he goes to Sirius and he goes to James and he begs them for help, when that doesn't work he just goes to them to spend time with them. Sirius doesn't ever want to let him in but he figures out the best things to say so he can just sit by him even if they don't talk. James always forgives him and he always let's him in he let's him cry on his shoulder and cling to him no matter what. He knows he's selfish for it, but he can't help it, he goes time and time again because he's not ready to die.

He goes to Evan and Barty begging them to run away with him. He goes to Pandora and cries in her arms asking her to figure out a way out of this. He even finds Dorcas and she hardly hears him out every time he goes to her but tries again and again and again.

He breaks down to Dumbledore begging to be a spy. He goes to McGonagall even and Slughorn when that doesn't work.

He spends days lying in his childhood bed refusing to get up soaking the mattress with his tears because he's just a kid and he's not ready to die.

The day keeps repeating and nothing he does ever fixes it. He can fall asleep in James' arm warm and safe and wake up again in his childhood home alone. He keeps going anyway. He could spends years there even once he's given up trying to save himself. He just spends times with the people he loves instead. He sits silently with Sirius. He cuddles with James and asks him to talk about his dreams like he can actually have them. He laughs with Barty and Evan like they're still fifteen and nothing bad has happened. He sits with his head on Pandora's shoulder and breathes in the warmth he can hold.

Because no matter how badly it wears on him having to explain his situation every time he goes up to one of them it doesn't matter. He's not ready yet. The cave is inevitable and he has to die, but not yet, he's just a kid and he's not ready.

[pretty-little-mind33]

chaser!James Potter x chaser!fem!reader

Summary: James is threatened by how good you are at Quidditch which means he hates you. And what emotion is closer to hate than love?

Genre: Angsty Fluff, 'rivals' to lovers <3

Warnings: James is seriously a dick in the beginning, teasing, slight bullying, swearing, fighting, social class differences, reader is an only child, didn't really understand how Quidditch Captains are appointed but bare with me <3

~ finally finished this! loved this ask anon! thank you, my lovely! ~

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

James Potter is sprawled across the large, maroon, couch in the center of the Gryffindor Common room, his arms draped over the cushions as his legs lay across Sirius Black's lap.

Sirius, who would probably mind more if he wasn't as drunk as his best friend. 

"I mean, fuck me, she wasn't even that good and McGonagall saw her and still looked at her like she'd just hung the moon in the sky!" James exclaims, his ears burning as he recalls Quidditch tryouts that morning. 

He's pissed. 

"You're just annoyed that she just started and now has a chance at Captain because Mini liked her so much," Sirius points out, which earns him a harsh swat on the top of his head.

James's face sours and he restrains himself from whining like a petulant child. Sirius was right, he was mad because you gave him a run for his money and no one has done that until now. 

This was supposed to be his year. McGonagall loved him (mostly)! The Captain position was basically promised to him since his second year and now you've come around and ruined this for him! 

"She's seriously not even that good, it's infuriating," James lies and looks around the small gathering they're having. He knows everyone can hear him but he doesn't care. "And she's so fucking annoying," he sounds bitter, "she's always talking everyone's ears off— and have you seen her stupid hair? She wore those fucking space buns just to make herself look cute, I swear!" He lifts himself off the couch for a moment, his arms raising in exasperation, and then lets out a sigh. 

"That is usually the reason girls do their hair, James, yes," Remus interrupts from the floor where he's reading his book, his back leaning against the couch. 

"Shut up," James grumbles and slumps back down. "I don't want her on the team. She's a nuisance already." 

"Speaking of," Peter adds, his voice smaller as he glances towards the stairs to the girls' dorms. James whips his head around and his eyes narrow. You're walking towards the small gathering with some friends. 

You're dressed in a Quidditch sweater that is only slightly oversized as the sleeves cover your hands. You're blissfully unaware of how much James Potter hates you so when you see him staring, you assume he wants to talk to you. You liked his company during tryouts. He was funny.

You'd always found him funny. 

So, you walk over with a smile and James struggles to sit up. He's very obviously sloshed. 

"Hello, Potter," you say and your smile widens. "This is Jane and that's Gabrielle," you introduce your friends. "I enjoyed try-outs, you were amazing. If I'm honest, I've always admired you during games. You're so talented," you feel yourself rambling but you're smiling too much to stop yourself, "I'm so happy we're gonna be on the same team now! I think we should–" 

James cuts you off, a mean smirk on his lips as he looks at his friends and the students around you, "What did I say? A little chatterbox this one is," he quips, not completely unaware of how harsh his words are even in his drunken state. 

Your hands fall at your sides, and the wind feels like it's been knocked from your lungs at his words when you realize he's making fun of you. You look at your friends and they stare at James with pronounced frowns.

"Oh," you whisper, but then you add, "That's not very nice, Potter." 

A little surprised you'd had the guts to stand up to him, James retorts instantly. "Yeah? Is it now, Y/l/n?" He sounds mocking again and you don't understand why. 

Your friends pull on your sleeve. "C'mon, Y/n, he's a prick," they turn you around, feeling how hurt you are as they walk away from James and his friends. 

"Classy, James, real classy," Remus mutters under his breath. 

And as awful as sober James might admit it is, he feels like he'd won something against you. 

* * *

You can't understand why James seems to hate you as much as he does. 

You've never been mean to him or done anything to harm him— on the contrary, you've only ever spoken highly of him and you know you've made a point of showing him that you trust him as a player when you're practicing. You want him to trust you too. 

And still, James hates you and he makes that very clear. 

He turns anything into a competition when it comes to you and it's obvious he takes pleasure in making you feel like shit.

As the days turn into weeks, you feel hopeless and even now you find yourself sitting alone on the grass during breaks, adjusting your uniform so you look busy as you hold in your tears. 

You can hear James's cruel whispers about you to your teammates, purposefully creating rifts between you and them so you'll feel even more alone.

"She's so desperate," James's mockery causes another ache in your stomach and you chew on your lip so hard you're afraid you'll draw blood. You try not to listen to him as the whistle blows and the practice game starts again. 

You're not on James's team this time–which means he either ignores you completely or targets you over anyone. As he hovers near you, you realize this morning it's the latter. 

Maria Baker throws you the Quaffle and just as she does, you can sense James coming. You avoid his shoulder just in time and, with a huff, you score into the nearest hoop.

This just infuriates James even more and ups his game—which means the next time you have the Quaffle, he flies up to your shoulder again and pushes you hard to the side. He jabs his elbow into your ribs, purposefully playing dirty. 

You wince. "O-ow, James, that hurts," you hiss, focusing on staying in the air as James rough-houses with you.

Your anger builds now and you shove him back, almost slipping from your broom as you try and defend yourself.

The Quaffle falls from your arms as James hits your shoulder with his again and you gasp. You expect him to rush to the ball and continue the game but he's furious from you shoving him so he grabs one of your braids and pulls. 

You feel yourself fall from your broom as you cry in pain and you turn your body, clutching the end of James's uniform and, with a grunt from him, you're suddenly both plummeting to the ground. 

You roll onto your stomach, falling onto James's chest as his arms automatically wrap around your back and he groans, looking up at you as you practically straddle his lap. Your head is throbbing from where he'd pulled your hair, your left braid messier than your right, and pure fury flashes in your eyes. 

You lean over James, grabbing a handful of his curls and you pull. "What the bloody hell is your problem? How do you like it, hm?! You insufferable jerk!" 

James doesn't take too kindly to this and he grabs your wrists, flipping you over so you're the one under him. His mum had told him never to hit a girl but oh does he want to hit you right now. You're staring up at him with that look he hates—the one that makes him feel all fluttery in his stomach.

You're struggling against his grip, grass in your hair. James's cheeks must be just as covered in dirt as yours are and his shoulder aches from the way he'd fallen. 

"Potter! Y/l/n!" The whistle blows and the current Captain, Ines Clarke, runs up with McGonagall behind her. She'd seen the commotion from inside and seemed more than furious as she rushed over.

Some of your teammates follow, including Sirius Black who grips James's collar and pulls him off you. You hear Sirius hiss, "Prongs!! What in Godric's name is wrong with you?!" and then McGonagall pulls your attention to her. 

Ines helps you up, looking concerned but then turns her attention to James. McGonagall walks over and when she sees the mess James has made of you, she frowns. "Are you alright, Miss Y/l/n?"

You nod, your lips pressed tightly as you see a bunch of your teammates have gathered around James as he rolls his shoulder. You look at your broom, which lies broken on the grass, and your eyes water. McGonagall senses your distress and she glances at James. 

"James Potter!" She suddenly snaps her dainty fingers and James is next to her in seconds, both hands gripping his only slightly damaged broom. 

It had been better quality than yours anyway. 

His nervous eyes dart from McGonagall to you as he takes you in. You stare at him, unable to look away from how messy you've made his naturally tousled hair and you wonder if grass and dirt stick to your cheeks just as they do to James'. 

"This," McGonagall points in between you both, "isn't how we do things here—you know this better than anyone, Mr. Potter. Your behavior is unacceptable." she reprimands him sternly and then looks at you, "and Miss Y/l/n, no matter how other teammates provoke you, you don't have the right to lay your hands on them either."

"But–" 

"No. No more buts." McGonagall ignores both your protests as she looks down at your broom. "You need to learn how to behave like a team."

She thinks for a moment. "Tomorrow morning, you'll travel to Hogsmeade so Miss Y/l/n can replace her broom. Mr. Potter, you'll help her without any complaints, and neither of you better step foot on the pitch again until you've worked out whatever this feud is." 

Your eyes widen. You want to tell McGonagall you cannot buy a new broom right now, but she clearly doesn't have anyexcuses about her new team bonding exercise. This means, much to your dismay, you end up waiting for James early the next morning, hugging your arms around you as you pick at the wool on your sweater. 

James is ten minutes late. You want to kill him. 

"Oi," his voice calls from behind you, irritatingly nonchalant. You turn and see he's also wearing his Quidditch sweater—which means you're now unintentionally matching—and a pair of casual trousers. James sends you a lopsided smirk, pushing his hands into his pockets as he sways on his feet almost awkwardly. "Why so gloomy, newb?" he mocks, the nickname rolling cruelly from his tongue.

You scrunch up your nose and spin around, walking in front of him as you clutch your purse. You don't want to give him a reaction and have him mock you the entire way into town. Instead, you both walk in silence, taking in the morning air and the sound of the birds.

Occasionally your purse will hit James's hip and he'll frown, opening to say another snarky comment until he sees a keychain; the one you have of Olive Gnats, a famous chaser from the Montrose Magpies.

"Oh, Gnats, I like her too—" he finds himself admitting before he can remind himself he hates you. 

You startle and clutch your keychain, wanting to hide it from him but then you look down and then back up at James. "O-oh, yeah, she's my favorite player. Her technique is incomparable."

"Seen her match last year?"

"'Course," you say, your tone less on edge now that you're talking about something you clearly love, and the rambling you do so much kicks in, "I would watch her every game ever since I was six years old. Have around ten posters in my room at home, some are old now but—I- I studied her moves when I would play around with my mum and dad—they also played in school—that's how they met—" You cut yourself off, James's earlier taunts ringing in your head. 

Your rambling is ignored as curiously overpowers him and James asks, "You have no siblings to play with?"

You shake your head. "Nope. Only child."

James's hazel eyes soften and he feels a funny feeling in his chest. "Oh, m-me too. Has its perks and its downfalls, y'know?" he whispers as he looks at you from the corner of his eye. His heart pounds.

The sun hits your skin just perfectly and your hair smells like cinnamon shampoo. James feels drawn to you again—just like he had in the beginning—and he wants to stop himself but when you laugh at his comment, he feels like an arrow has just shot his heart. 

"Oh yeah, it certainly does," you sound guarded again and James can't even be upset.

It's his fault you're like this around him.

He opens the door for you when you enter Quality Quidditch Supplies and the little bell rings. Instantly, you're drawn to the newest broom—displayed with polished wood and improved flying qualities—but you turn your head, knowing instantly you can't pay for a broom like that—

"Hey, look at this one," James's excitement tugs at your heart and you walk over, standing beside him as you can't help but admire the broom up close. "It feels amazing," James says as he runs his hand over the smooth wood. He's grinning. "This is the one, isn't it?"

You bite your cheek. You want it to be.

"I don't know, I–haven't seen the others," you whisper, avoiding James's eyes.

"What? What are you talking about? This one is the best by far, you aren't gonna find a better broom."

"I want to look around," you whisper, looking at the price of this broom, and your heart sinks.

"Y/n, this is ridiculous—"

"James, stop," you snap, very clearly annoyed. You can't tell if he means well by being persistent since he's only just now started to show you any form of kindness and this still feels like some cruel joke he's playing on you.

"I can't pay for this one—and the truth is I can't pay for any of these so—I- I think—" you pause, clutching at your purse desperately as you hold in tears of embarrassment. "I should tell McGonagall I couldn't find a broom I liked and I'll borrow an older one from my parents—

—plus, if I buy this one you'll just have another reason to hate me," you finish. 

Your words hit James hard as he takes in what you mean. Shame sneaks up on him instantly as he knows exactly why you would think that. It suddenly hits him just how threatened he's been and as silly as it sounds the only image in James's head is the disappointed look of his mother if she knew he had taken out his own insecurities on you. 

If Euphemia Potter knew how much of a dick he's been to you, she'd be horrified.

He looks at you closely, taking in how embarrassed you look. During tense moments with his friends, Remus had sometimes told him he was a spoiled rich boy—unaware of real struggles — and he'd always brushed him off.

Only this time, he can't unhear Remus's jab as he realizes how foolish he had been to assume anything about you.

"Oh," he whispers.

You look away at the other brooms. "I- I honestly didn't realize how expensive new brooms are. My mum and dad had gotten the other one for my eleventh birthday—I should have been more careful—" You sound sad and James's heart sinks. 

"Hey, listen, it's my fault your broom is broken. I- shouldn't have been so rough on you like I was. I'm sorry," he speaks up, sounding sincere and you look up at him, expecting a better explanation than that. 

"It's no excuse but, the truth is, I was incredibly threatened by you. You're so good, better than me even, and I really want Captain so—"

"I don't want Captain," you say instantly. "I just wanted to be on the team—"

At that point, James remembers what you'd said that night when he was piss-drunk in the Common Room. 'I've always admired you during games.' It dawns on him that you just wanted him to like you and, instead, he'd gone and seen you as an enemy. His chest hurts. 

He has never felt more like an ass than now. 

"Okay, well, um," he whispers, rubbing his nape, "Let me make it up to you then. I'll buy you the broom." James means well, he truly does, but it only makes you feel more embarrassed and you shake your head. 

"No. I don't need your pity," you say instantly as you stare at him, eyes narrowed. 

"I'm not pitying you! I'm fixing my mistake," he exclaims, his voice strained.

You open your mouth to protest when he adds, "Please."

James looks determined as he rummages through his robes for any spare change he can use and then he curses. "Shit, I didn't bring enough money," he mumbles and lifts his head, looking up at you with his puppy-like brown eyes. "I promise I'll buy it for you, Y/n. Okay? I'll make this right," he adds again and your expression softens. 

"Sure, James," you whisper, not entirely sure if you believe him. 

* * *

He did buy you the broom.

James had it wrapped neatly with a small letter signed J.P accompanied with the words, "I'm sorry," scribbled onto the parchment. 

Since that morning, he didn't ignore you anymore, he included you with the other teammates, and he played fair with you—even complimenting you sometimes. McGonagall had seen the change in dynamic and so had Ines, which she'd praised you both for.

"Good job, Y/l/n," Ines grins as she packs up her bags, "you and Potter seem to be getting on much better now." She winks and her comment passes over you as you focus on untying your ponytail, rubbing your scalp. 

The rest of the team has fallen in front of you, laughing and chatting as they walk back to the dorm. You're lost in the moment, struggling with holding your bag as you run your hand in your hair, the tightness of the ponytail was causing you a headache. 

Suddenly, you suddenly squeal when you almost trip over James—who had bent down to tie his shoes and had been separated from the group. 

He grunts and stands up, turning around and catching your arm as he steadies you. 

"Oh hey, Y/n," he grins, and then he glances at your poor bag hanging from your arm. Swiftly, he takes your bag and holds it over his other shoulder, not even commenting on the gesture. 

"Want some company walking back to the Common Room?" he asks casually.

You blow some strands away from your eyes as you look up at him, grateful for the momentary relief from your bag as the pain in your scalp subsides.

"Sure," you say, reaching for your bag but James holds it up and away from you. 

"Let me be a gentleman here," he teases.

You roll your eyes with no malice. "Hero complex much, Potter?"

He chuckles as you walk inside the school, side by side. James winks at you. "On the contrary, Y/l/n, I am the hero. Don't need a complex when you are one, y'know?"

You laugh, hearing the joking infliction in his voice as your heart feels lighter. Much to your better judgment, you've actually been enjoying James's company these last weeks, and talking to him alone like this has been even more fun. "I think you think much too highly of yourself, James." you tease him back. 

"I am wounded, Y/n." He fakes hurt as he puts a hand over his heart. 

"It's true is it not?" you say with a smirk and James narrows his eyes as you turn a corner, getting closer to the Common Room. You shrug, catching yourself. "Nothing wrong with some confidence." 

James grins, his eyes sparkling playfully as he gently nudges your side with his elbow. "You could learn a few things from me, eh?"

You frown. "Are you saying I'm not confident?"

James hums, smirking, "'M just giving you some advice, love. You have the skills now, you gotta trust yourself." You both approach the entrance and you mutter the secret word to the Fat Lady Painting and the door cracks open. You push it further with your palm. 

"Since when are you giving me Quidditch advice to make me better?" 

James turns around once he's inside and hands you your bag. "Since I realized if you can't beat them, join them," he jokes with a smile, "We're a team now, Y/n. I know I was a real dick in the beginning, but I look out for my teammates. You're my teammate, so now I look after you."

Your shoulders relax and a small smile tugs your lips. "Thanks, James," you say honestly and rest your bag higher on your shoulder, tucking some hair behind your ear as you smooth the knots a little. "I really appreciate that."

"Anytime," James whispers as you walk up the stairs to the girl's dorm. Sirius whistles from where he's sitting on one of the couches, his head leaning against the armrest as he watches you and James. Once you disappear from view, James spins around, his eyes narrowing at his best friend. 

Sirius winks and looks at James's sneakers. "This is the third time this week you've used that stupid shoelace excuse, Prongs. At this point, just stay back and ask her to walk with you, you chicken."

James's cheeks turn crimson and he walks over to shove Sirius, "Shut up." 

Sirius just laughs loudly. 

* * *

You've never felt so nervous in your life as you clutch the wood of your new, expensive, broom. The wind has picked up and everyone can tell the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor seekers are having a hard time finding the snitch. You're breathing heavily as you look around, seeing Maria—the third chaser—throw James the Quaffle. 

James easily catches the Quaffle, avoiding the Ravenclaws on his right as he swoops lower. Your adrenaline is pumping and you think you know what he's doing. You hope. You fly closer and higher to the hoops, letting James know you're open.

Your memory flashes to the beginning when he wouldn't pass you the Quaffle under any circumstances, even if it cost the team the point. He can be so headstrong and your body is buzzing as you watch him closely.

What if he doesn't throw it to you? You have the perfect shot. 

James looks at you from the corner of his eye, shoving a Ravenclaw with his shoulder to disorient them.

He could want the score for himself—but he's surrounded, he could miss.

The sound of the crowd is drowned out when you see his arm raise and he's communicating with his eyes. You nod, jumping into action as you fly closer and avoid the Ravenclaws as you catch the Quaffle and throw your arm back, throwing the Quaffle directly into the middle hoop. 

Just as you score, Oliver—Ravenclaw's seeker—catches the snitch and the whistle blows. Gryffindor was leading already and you glance at the board. It didn't matter that Oliver caught the snitch, your goal had helped secure Gryffindor the win. Cheers erupt around you and you find yourself in a trance as your feet hit the ground and you clutch your broom.

"Y/n!" Someone calls your name as the ringing in your ears dies and you feel hands wrap around your waist, hoisting you up in the air as you twirl around. A gasp escapes your lips as you clutch onto the culprit's shoulder, the cheers continuing to echo around the pitch.  

"You did so amazingly," James's excitement shines as he slowly lowers you back onto the ground, your chest brushing against his as your hands find themselves wrapped around his neck. You stare into his eyes, feeling his proximity and you suddenly feel warm and dizzy.

Has he always been this handsome?

"James." His name is the only thing your brain can think to say as he refuses to let you go. He also looks breathless and his cheeks have turned a faint shade of pink as his eyes roam over your features. 

You want to tell him a thousand things. How good he was, how you're so happy the team won, how honored you are he trusted you enough to throw you the Quaffle to make the score. You want to ask if you were more confident this time and if he's noticed your effort—but instead, any attempt at words is drowned by his lips meeting yours. 

You don't kiss him back for a moment, your hand faltering behind his neck as your fingers find the baby hairs on his nape. He feels so close and your lips part a little, kissing him back carefully as your eyes shut. 

James's hands squeeze your waist and for a moment the crowd and the team are completely forgotten until James pulls away, and the sound of cheering returns as the realization of what happened dawns on you both. 

"I'm sorry," James mutters, stepping away but he keeps a hand on you. 

"You're sorry?" you ask, your voice small. 

James hesitates, looking at you seriously and then he shakes his head. "No. I'm not sorry."

Your lips curl upwards and, still ignoring everyone around you, you pull him down by the collar of his shirt and kiss his lips again. James grins against your mouth, his heart thumps in his chest as all he can think about is you.

"Oi, no PDA on the pitch, you pervs!" Sirius's teasing voice suddenly shouts out from somewhere beside you but you're almost positive no one else is worried about you and James considering everyone's celebrating on their own.

James must feel the same because he throws up a middle finger with the hand that leaves your waist and you laugh into his mouth, reaching for his arm to stop him.

"Prick," James mutters to Sirius, "You're annoying," he adds with some playful bite. 

He turns to you and his gaze softens. "But you're lovely," he whispers, earning him the prettiest smile he's ever seen and he's never been more proud.

tags: @mischievousmoony, @sayitlikethecheese

[drarryspecificrecs]

H/D Kidfic Fest 2024 : (fics only)

@hd-kidfic-fest || official masterpost || AO3 || ∑ = 15 works The Mods (4) + Banner © : @littlewinnow's Sweet Distraction

---

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Harry and Draco love their son, who has just turned seven. He hasn't shown any signs of magic yet, and their friends are concerned. But Scorpius is healthy, and they're sure there's nothing wrong with him.

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[...] As Christmas draws near and plans change, Teddy must confront his own ideas about the definition of family and what it might mean for him and his loved ones.

11. A Wizard’s Guide to Co-Parenting with Your Ex-Arch Nemesis by @thecouchsofa [T, 38k]

Harry had expected a few things when returning for his Eighth Year. [...] His list of certainties definitely hadn’t included McGonagall’s shake-up of the curriculum, which tasked the Eighth Years with the responsibility of parenthood for three weeks. Caring for a baby Transfigured from a sack of flour would have been alright if: 1) Malfoy wasn’t Harry’s assigned partner, 2) Their baby’s one goal in life wasn’t to spite Harry, and 3) Malfoy wasn’t infuriatingly good at fake parenthood.

---

✔ other fests in 2024 ✔ fests in other years

[dufferpuffer]

Longbottoms boggart wasn't Snape.

I mean you'd think this would be obvious enough - but people who hate Snape bring it up as their sort of trump card. "He was so bad he was a 13yr olds biggest fear!" No. He wasn't. Boggarts don't quite work like that. Boggarts are not themselves your worst fear - they make you FEEL your worst fear. Hermione isn't actually scared of McGonagall. (I'm sure alot of first years are scared of her though I mean she is strict and stern and a little scary at first.) Did she have some irrational fear of suddenly failing all her classes? Yeah, maybe a little bit - but it is BECAUSE she is scared of not being good enough. From the first book we see her struggling to fit in with her peers. She is muggleborn, she learned she was a witch so suddenly that she poured herself into being the most perfect witch she could.

Professor McGonagall, a stern and strict witch she respects, telling her she isn't good enough despite all of her best efforts makes her FEEL her worst fear. It has nothing to do with Minerva personally - honestly it could probably be replaced with Dumbledore or someone... its just she has far more interaction with Minerva.

SO - Longbottom and Snape: How do I know that Snape isn't his absolute worst fear? Because he still attends Potions every fucking week!!! Do you think RON could attend Charms if it was run by a spider?!? He can pass Snape in the hall, he can sit in the same room as Snape, he can even be teased and bullied by Snape. His parents were tortured to insanity by Death Eaters. Severus Snape is NOT his worst fear, that's stupid. Snape just makes him FEEL his worst fear - like McGonagall makes Hermione feel hers. SO what is Neville worst fear? I think the clue comes with him quickly saying that he also wouldn't want the Boggart to turn into his grandma. Inadequacy. Neville has never been good enough. He has low self worth. The tiniest bits of praise overwhelm him. He never wins any house points and losing some devastates him. He got his magic late, his family kept trying to tease it out of him, thought he was maybe a squib. He has a proud legacy to uphold and he is terrified he cannot. He is the worst potions student Snape has ever had.

Snape makes Neville feel inadequate. His grandmother makes him feel inadequate. But mix them together... and suddenly these two very scary people that seem to have such control over his life... look a little ridiculous.

DO you think Lupin is LITERALLY scared of the moon...? Or does the moon make him feel powerless and dangerous and inhumane? DO you think Harry is LITERALLY scared of Dementors...? Or is he scared of how powerless he is against the horrible way they make him feel - the trauma they bring up from the deep recesses of his mind?

Snape was not so horrific, so awful, so scary, so mean - that he as a man became Nevile's worst fear. He, like his grandma, makes him feel inadequate.

[adhdduckie]

candy grams. g.w. x reader

my masterlist

music choice; dandelions by ruth b

word count: 2.7 k

pt 2

synopsis;

you've been in love with george for almost as long as you've known him.

that makes 6 years. and for the last 5, you've been in love with him.

valentines' day is around the corner. and you think it's a great idea to send him a candy gram anonymously. a/n - no valentines this year so i thought id finally lock in and give some of yall a treat! hope u enjoy + pls interact!

George Weasley is one of your favourite people ever. He's sweet, funny and kind when he wants to be. So, many girls you know have a crush on him. So do you. It's kind of a pain, most of the time. He's your best friend, you're so integrated into his family, the burrow is your second home. Molly loves you, and so does the rest of the family.

George and Fred are both large parts of your daily life. You're one of the only people who are able to tell them apart. They look exactly the same, but you're able to tell a difference. You're not even entirely sure how you know, but you just know.

Classes with the two are entertaining, you sitting between the two on a bench, stifled giggles can be heard throughout the classroom, and are a constant in every class you have with the twins. You're closest with George, having become friends in first year when you were placed next to him in potions after snape had enough of the twins sitting together.

Although it wasn't till second year before you realised you cared about george beyond a friend should. A constant figure in your mind, and a constant figure in your life, he invaded every moment of your life.

it wasn't like he did it on purpose. he was just everywhere you turned. In the hallways, laughing with fred while they made fun of Ron, next to you in classes, sitting across from you in the great hall at feeding times, and during the holidays when he'd send you constant letters on updates of things he and his brother made in their room. You were invited over a lot, but obviously you had to spend some time with your family before you went over to the burrow.

You had lived with these feelings for years, not many knew. Fred didn't, so George didn't. Hermione seemed to be the only one that knew, and it was only because of her intelligence was she able to figure out. 5th year was honestly the worst. Your O.W.Ls were coming around, and you had the stupid pink toad umbridge for a teacher. she was a pain in the ass, constantly punishing students for practically no reason.

Because McGonagall understood how everyone was in low spirits, she introduced the muggle idea of candy grams. There were some students who found them stupid since they derived from muggles, but you wanted to try it. So, on the fourteenth of february, you bought one. Sent it to George. left it anonymous, because you just wanted him to know someone out there liked him.

you regretted sending that damn candy gram not even 20 minutes later, the moment he came bounding into the common room with a pesky grin on his face, yelling out your name.

"what?" you said as you looked up from your book.

he shoved the paper under your nose, effectively poking you in the eyes with the corner of the paper. "look! someone sent me a candy gram." he grinned at you.

"congrats?" you say, trying to keep your cool, hoping that he couldn't tell that you were the one that wrote it. You didn't want to lose his friendship. It really meant too much to you, and you'd probably rather die than lose him.

"do you not get the significance of this moment?" he clutched his chest dramatically.

"i refuse to believe someone actually has a crush on you. You're such a menace to society." you tell him, rolling your eyes, trying to keep yourself together and not end up screaming and running away.

There's a knowing glint in his eyes that you don't seem to notice, but he doesn't respond or comment on anything. He shoves the note under your nose again, forcing you to read it.

"Dearest George,

I hope this note finds you well. I couldn't keep these feelings hidden any longer, but I must remain anonymous for now. Over the years, I've cherished our friendship more than words can express. But it's evolved into something deeper, something I can't deny.

You've become the light of my life, and I can't help but feel a love that goes beyond friendship. If one day, you discover who I am and feel the same way, I'll be waiting, ready to take a chance for us.

Until then, I remain in secrecy.

sincerely and with love,

a secret admirer"

he reads out by heart, as if he's memorised the entire thing already. you gape at him, not knowing what you're actually supposed to say right now. nothing has prepared you for this moment.

"well?" he demands, plopping his weight down on the cushion next to you.

"well what?" you ask him, slightly flushed from having a love note you've written read out to you by the person you like.

"what do you think? who do you think it is?" he questions you, bombarding you with several questions when you're still trying to process what possessed you to send him the candy gram in the first place.

"man, i don't know." you tell him, shrugging, turning back to your book, trying to move the topic on.

"oh come on y/n! help me out here! I'm your best friend..." he whines, dropping his head in your lap. It's a common habit of his, invading your personal space, but let's be honest, you don't mind in the slightest.

"what do you want me to do?" you sigh. He always has a way of making you crumble. He beams instantly, Sitting upright again, almost head butting you and giving you a lovely little concussion.

"help me find out who it is!" he responds with a cheeky grin.

"why, george? are you going to make fun of them or something?" you sigh tiredly, really wanting him to give up on this, but you know how he is. once he starts, it's hard to get him to stop.

"because, what if she's hot?" he wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you can't help but crack a smile at his simplicity.

"just because she might be hot? What if she's super ugly? What will you do then?" You tease him, but you do want to know what he's going to do when he finds out it was you, and crushes his hopes of it being Angelina Johnson.

"I know she's pretty." he responds in retaliation.

"how do you know?" you challenge, raising your eyebrow at him as you question your own sanity for liking someone like him.

"It's a gut feeling." he shrugs his shoulders, before standing up from the couch, offering you his hand to pull you up. you set your book down with a sad sigh, accepting his hand as he pulls you up. His hand envelops yours easily, as if they fit together, and his hands are a nice kind of warm, warm enough to make you feel happy, but not warm enough to make you clammy and sweaty. the perfect balance.

he's a lot stronger than you give him credit for, and he pulls you up easily, till you're standing almost chest to chest, well more like head to chest, since he's so much taller than you. If you looked up at him, you would be close enough to kiss. His smell envelopes you, a rich smell of freshly upturned grass and the smell of smoke and a Christmas fire.

you clear your throat abruptly, and the pair of you spring apart. you're avoiding eye contact with george, but if you looked at him you would see how the tips of his ears are red enough to match the colour of his hair.

You get a strange look from the other people in the common room, and fred, who's been close enough to hear the entire conversation, grins at what he's just realised.

He lets out a light chuckle, and you turn to look at him, raising your eyebrow. He shrugs and grins. George's deliberately avoiding eye contact, looking everywhere but you. Fred laughs louder, to the point where he needs to lean on the edge of a couch to prevent himself from falling over.

George pauses, looks at you, before he grins. "You can start helping me tomorrow." He says, before bouncing away, out of the portrait hole. Fred laughs even louder. You turn to him again, before frowning.

"what?" you ask him. It sets him off again, he only stops laughing when he starts coughing.

Fred holds up his finger, and you wait till he regains his composure. He takes another look at you before it sets him off again. You groan.

"I think i know who sent my dear brother the candy gram." He says, wiping a tear away from his eye with his index.

"oh yeah? who?" you ask. Your heart's thumping in your ears, but you're trying your best to seem calm and collected.

a smile stretches across his face, and he looks like he's planning something. "oh, my dear y/n. I do indeed. It seems the girl and i are quite close." he purrs, pulling you close into a hug. You sigh, wrapping your arms around fred.

"please don't tell him." you whisper, hiding your face into his chest. he smiles. He's viewed you as a little sister since the beginning, and he's glad you feel the same way for his brother as his brother does for you.

"i wouldn't dream of it. Unless.....?" he starts, but drifts off, not finishing the sentence.

"fred!" you whine, irritated.

"okay, okay." he laughs, pulling back from the hug, resting his hands on your shoulder, staring deep into your eyes. suddenly he goes serious, the smile dropping off his face quick.

"but seriously. If you never tell him, i'll do it eventually. You can't stay secret admirer forever, and i'm most likely going to die of frustration just watching you two." He finishes. Stepping back, plopping down onto the couch

"i shouldn't have done it fred! i don't know what i was thinking." you groan, hiding your face in his shoulder, plopping down next to him.

"well i think it was a good idea." fred says, throwing an arm carelessly across your shoulder. you groan in response, closing your eyes with a sigh.

the next couple of days are strange, to say the least. George actively seeks you out more than usual, the only topic he speaks of is his secret admirer. It's quite strange, having the object of your affections constantly speak of a romantic gesture you made toward them without them knowing. It's nice, but quite scary, to say the least.

there's the constant fear of being discovered, and when discovered, you're afraid that george is going to be disappointed that you were the one that sent it to him and not Angelina Johnson.

but whatever, you need to act as inconspicuous as possible, right? fred certainly isn't helping, constantly giggling to himself whenever the topic is brought up, while george flashes him a questioning side eye.

one day after potions lesson during lunch, you and george remain behind in the classrooms, cleaning up as a form of punishment from professor snape.

you're kneeling on the floor, cleaning up a spill from some third years. without magic. if it wasn't obvious that snape hated you beforehand, it is now.

you don't even remember what exactly it was that you did, but here you are anyway. george, who somehow got the easier task, is just sitting on a chair as he scrubs at some of the tables in the room.

"this is all your fault, george." you blame, rubbing at the persistent stain on the floor.

"how? you were the one giggling too loudly." george throws back at you. very maturely, you throw the rag you're using at his face. he blocks it, instead of hitting his face, it hits his arm with a wet 'thwump'.

'hey!" he complains at you, throwing it back at you. you duck out of the way, and it hits the wall behind you with another wet sound.

you turn to stare at where it went, and you look back at him, before you burst out into giggles together.

suddenly, you hear the sounds of footsteps, and knowing snape, you stumble to get the rag and go back the stain, rubbing at it with the best of your ability.

you hear the sound of the door groaning on its hinges as it slams open, revealing a disgruntled and angry prof snape.

“i thought. i heard laughter.” he drawls in his cold and distatched tone, the corner of his mouth turning down in distaste.

“no, professor. we wouldn’t dare. Perhaps it was Peeves running through.” you answer, in your best imitation of a innocent student, and professor turns his eyes onto you, glaring at you with distaste.

“i’d hope not. if i hear another peep out of you both, it’s 50 points from gryffindor. each.” he teels you, before swishing around in his ridiculous cape and exiting through the door.

you both turn to each other slowly, before doubling over in silent laughter, clutching your stomach insanely.

once you’ve both managed to contain yourselves, you get back to the work you’re supposed to doing, letting the silence pass between you comfortably.

you hear a little sigh leave george’s mouth, and you turn to look at him, noticing that he’s already looking at you.

“what?” you ask him, raising your brow at him.

he flushes a red that makes his freckles stand out, and you wish so desperately to count them all at some point.

you will manage to do that at some point if you’re lucky..you’ll probably have to disguise it as some kind of friendly activity…

he avoids your eye contact and he sighs, before looking back up at you for a second, before he asks, “are you sure you don’t know who wrote the candy gram?”

your heart stutters in your chest, a little part of you feeling an intense need to run as fast and as far as possible.

“yeah. sorry, george. I promise I asked around.” you so blatantly lie, and he just kind of stares at you, and he doesn’t look impressed at all. you swear his left eye twitches a little.

after a beat of you avoiding as much eye contact with him as possible, by looking somewhere else, anywhere else from him, because he honestly scares you a little and honestly any thing to do with your emotions so obviously displayed is quite terrifying.

another moment passes by you, and you try to turn your attention back to the stain you’re scrubbing at. you begin to stand up, about to go get some more soap to make sure the stain really does get out, when you hear george call your name.

‘….you do realise I can recognise your handwriting, right? we’ve been friends for ages.” he tells you, and your head whips to him so fast, you get whiplash.

“what?” you respond, ever the poet.

“your handwriting. I know you sent me the candy gram.” he mutters, standing up to match you, stalking forwards with his eyes set on you. “why are you lying?” he asks you, stopping right in front of you.

you can’t respond. you’re frozen, mouth wide open as you gape at him. he’s very close to you now, and you feel your heart thumping in your chest. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you lie, walking sideways as he follows you, while you try to face the door to escape.

“i know, for sure, that it was you who sent it to me.” He asserts again, following you, not to closely as to make you uncomfortable, as he is ever the kindest soul you will ever know.

you know that you are not ready to have this conversation right now, so you feign that someone is calling your name, and make a run for it. “oh. is that someone calling me? oh yes it is. Yes I’m coming!”

george tries to stop you, by putting an arm out to block you, but you duck under, sprinting out the door as quick as you can.

you’re swearing as you run, and you hear him call out your name, once, twice and then silence.

pt 2

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a/n -> this has been in my drafts for much more than a year so im glad i finally got it out...

pls pls pls pls interact and comment i love reading comments

[moonysweetheart]

and they were only friends...

summary: a cutesy game of bicycle between yn and remus led their friends to tease them again ☆⋆ MASTERLIST ☆⋆

pairing: fem!reader x remuslupin

word count: 1,275

warnings: none, all fluff and cutesy

“What you guys doing?” asked Sirius with his brows crunched. He and James had just entered the dormitory, having come back from another detention with McGonagall. Peter was studying in the library with Mary Macdonald, since recently he was trying to impress the girl and passing most of his time in detention with the boys would not help him much.

“We’re playing, duh” said yn, smiling like it was obvious. Both yn and Remus were playing a bicycle game, lied on Remus’s bed, with their legs up, feet touching and moving them as if pedalling a bike. Giggling as they moved their legs from back to front. Looked like two kids, James thought.

“You two look like a couple,” continues James, coming out of the bathroom he barely enter and looking funny towards Sirius direction, both boys sharing a knowing look.

“I agree” said Sirius.

“Bullshit” pronounce Remus, feet never stop moving while yn giggled more. “Yeah, bullshit!” voiced yn, laughing.

Every time Padfoot and Prongs interrupted, Remus pretend to be bothered, making an upset expression. Inside, he was genuinely disturbed, even if it was a bit. He could lie to others, but he and the wolf inside him knew how much he craves for these moments alone with yn. Usually they were always with their friends, if not the boys, certainly with the girls. And Lupin knows best than to tried intervene a chat between yn and them, especially Marlene and Lily. His upset face would quickly disappear as fast as it come when yn pushed her feet further and laugh more. Her laugh was music to his ears.

Both boys exchanged looks again. James had changed his shirt and now was looking for a hoodie. “Dude, how long do you think it takes until they start to making up and we’ll be denying of entering our own room,” whisper Sirius, the tip of his lips rising. “Poor Peter hasn’t made a move to his girl yet, won’t be able to ask for a place to stay. He will be left in the corridor with us until further instruction. His girlie will come back to be second priority again,” he chuckles. “I believe they’ll take less than two weeks, padfoot, and at least we’ll be together. Peter is a bit of a coward but he’ll be with us in difficult, different from a certain someone that chooses a girl over his mates”

“Hey!” exclaim yn “I’m not only any girl out there! I thought we were a hecking team, all friends” her face turned to the boys. She was making an angry face, but clearly was feigning it. Her face tilted to her right, since she was near the end of the bed. James was on the doorframe of the bathroom and Sirius on the wall aside him.

“And you’re on the team dove, but when you and our dear moony assume your relationship, we’ll be left to the leftovers, to the rags, easily forgotten. You two will spend all day doing nerd things together”

“What a drama” exclaimed yn, coming back to her game with Remus.

“Knowing that, I bet three days Prongs, two galleons” he extended his arm to James, who happily clast his hands on his “Deal” said Potter “Deal,” mimic him Black, shaking James’ hands.

“We’re listening,” shout Remus from his bed.

“You lot are two idiots,” said yn “I’ve many things to say about that but I’ll not lose my time”

“I say the same yn” continued Lupin.

“We’re visioners,” reply both boys in unison, chuckling together after noticing their synchronicity.

“You lot don’t say nothing back because it’s true. Simple as 2 plus 2,” pronounce James.

Remus low his feet and yn dramatically pushed her head towards the pillow behind her, complaining about the game had been interrupted due a dog and a stag that don’t know how to stop talking. Moony tossed the closest cushions at the boys. The first one hit Sirius’ face and the second landed on James’ shoulder, as the last boy tried to dodge the cushion.

“Ouch moony, you once were more delicate with us,” said Sirius, faking a pouty. James chuckled, holding his hoodie on his forearm.

“I was never delicate with you all,” his gaze change to yn. “Well, never with you boys,” he continued, smirking.

“Moony has gone completely doolally for yn!” singsonged Sirius, sprinting towards the door before receiving another cushion on his face.

“Haha, look! He is all gooey-eyed over her!” continued James behind Sirius.

Remus groaned, palms on his face. “Can you two just shut up and leave?!”

Yn laughed a bit, but ceased after the door was locked again. She seated applesauce on his bed, caressing his calves. “Hey, look at me Remmy”

Lupin peaked between his fingers. “They’re two dorks. Will you really let their teasing end with our afternoon?”

The boy beamed, palms coming to the bed while he seated like her, one in front of the other, “You’re right darling, let’s walk a bit, shall we?” asked he smiling with his hands gently squeezing hers.

“Sure, was waiting for you to ask since they entered here.” They both grinned like idiots to one another.

Yn gets off his bed and, before he does the same, she quickly turns to Remus again. “It looks like will start snowing soon. Could you borrow me your sweater, Remmy?” He nodded, smiling.

“Sure dove, you can choose whenever you want,” “Thanks love” said Yn as she went to search on his truck.

“Gosh, He’s lost the plot, and she’s the main character now,” said Lily gazing into some tree’s direction

“What?” asked Marlene.

“Look they two,” the red-haired pointed.

Under the tree near the lake, one could see a very pleasant Remus receiving caressing from Yn, the girl’s fingers playing along his curls. His eyes closed, but they both were talking. Some books gathered around them, clearly forgotten some time ago. He was holding the other hand — the one which was not on his head. Here and there, he kissed her palm absently. She smile even further to him and he peeked out through his eyes to watch her smile, only to close it back and they come back to talk.

James tsk a bit before calling Sirius, who was talking with some Ravenclaw in a not so distant pillar.

“What’s up mate?” he inquire while quickly squeezing the girls’ shoulders as a greeting.

“Look up there,” James pointed.

“Ew, still in deny?” James nodded as a response.

“You know, I really think they haven’t done anything at all,” she pronounced the last sentence smoothly, the words flowing like music from her tongue. “They are too slow, but… You know, it’s Yn and Remus we’re talking. It’s expected.”

“Yeah, I agree with you, red one. Let them be. One day, they’ll take action. Even if it’s on the graduation day’“

“Now you were mean Mars,” said Sirius, grinning.

“Nope, I was honest Black” They both smile to each other.

“So… we don’t try to push or help? We let them be? Like, taking their own time?” inquired Peter, a confusing expression taking on his face.

“I think we should help,” said James confidently.

“No, we shouldn’t” interrupted Lily and Marlene together, Sirius a bit behind.

“I actually think it’ll be funny to follow their path, watching their doing their own thing,” Finished Sirius grinning, a proud expression on his face.

Hi! Hope you lot have enjoyed the reading.

I write this near midnight, so if it has any mistake, my former apologies.

If you want to be on my taglist, please let me know!

kisses to all, bye!