#mouth and millicent

[tvshowscouples]

If you love Mouth&Millie (OTH) and you want reblog or like,this is the link of my reblog couples :)

thank you!

[starryeyesxx]

[tisdae]

“so are you leaving soon?” “no, i think i’m gonna stay a while” “really, why?” “because you shouldn’t be alone” 😭😭😭😭🤧❤️

[livinces2]

I was going to agree on the headline, but… "Vacuous, HYPERSEXUALIZED dolls"?? Oh, FUCK OFF! 🙄

[riddlesbunny]

rumors

summary: Mattheo and Theo put an end to the rumors they might be attracted to each other one drunken night, but not in the way you’d expect.

pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader x Theo Nott

word count: 1k

warnings: Explicit smut, Poly!Slytherins, oral (m & f receiving), MLM!!!, p in v sex, creampie, cum eating, squirting, 18+ MDNI

note: for my sweet angel @nemesyaaa <3

There was no denying that Slytherins loved to gossip– you had even found yourself engaged in a rumor or two. However, when it came to your boyfriend having the hots for his best friend, you were taken by complete surprise. You had even yelled at Millicent for implying such a thing. They didn't like each other like that, they couldn't... could they?

At first, you dismissed it. They were best friends, always together, always in sync. But then you started noticing things. The way Theo’s gaze lingered a little too long when Mattheo wasn’t looking. How Mattheo’s smirk softened whenever Theo was near. The fleeting touches, the stolen glances.

And then came that night.

It started as a joke. A drunk night in the Slytherin common room. The rest of the gang were out at Hogsmeade, but the three of you stayed back. You were sprawled out on the couch, Theo sitting beside you, Mattheo lounging across from you both, his usual cocky grin in place.

Someone—maybe it was you, maybe it was Mattheo, you can't remember —threw the idea into the air like a careless spark.

“What if all three of us… you know?”

The air shifted instantly. Theo went still. Mattheo’s smirk deepened, but his eyes—oh, his eyes—held something different. Something darker. Something real.

You expected laughter, maybe teasing. But instead, there was silence. A charged, heavy silence that made your stomach tighten. Then Mattheo leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes locked onto yours.

“Would that be a problem for you?” he asked, his voice lower than usual, almost testing.

Theo exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. His jaw was tight, his throat bobbing with something unsaid.

And that’s when it clicked. The rumors weren’t just rumors.

You looked between them—Theo, who suddenly wouldn’t meet your eyes, and Mattheo, whose smirk was still there but softer now, like he was waiting for your confirmation.

You had no idea what you’d just stepped into. But you were about to find out.

Now you’re on your knees infront of Theo, nothing new, except now you’re accompanied by his best friend. 

Matty takes the lead, his warm hand wrapping around Theo’s cock. He looks at you, a wicked grin on his lips. “I know how much you like to suck him off,” he states before gesturing towards Theo. That bastard must have been talking about you. Oh well, it didn't matter now.

You lick your lips as you lean forward, sliding your tongue along the tip of Theo’s cock as Mattheo continues stroking him. You wrap your lips around his tip, tasting a bead of precum that forms at the head. Matty guides your movements gently, slowly fucking your mouth with his Theo's cock. Your throat relaxes as Matty controls his pace, salvia pooling out of your mouth, dripping down your chin.

Theo’s eyes flutter shutas a loud groan erupts from his chest, pushing himself further down your throar, causing you to gag. Matty leans into you, whispering, “do you want me to take over?” 

Your heart races and wetness pools at your core as his words register. Nodding, you pull back, leaving Theo slick with your spit. 

Matty smirks at you, “such a good girl,” before taking Theo’s cock deep into his own mouth. His cheeks hollow out as he begins to suck hard, earning a ragged moan from your boyfriend. 

Theo is whimpering as Matty bobs his head, his curls bouncing up and down., you use your free hand to tug at Theo's balls.

Without any warning to Theo, Matty pulls away; a string of saliva connecting the two of them.

"I want to watch you fuck her" Matty tells Theo and you smile at him, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb as you sit back on your heels.

 "I guess we should give our boy what he wants,” you purr and Theo helps you to your feet, his gaze filled with lust. He takes charge, guiding you toward his bed with Matty close behind. With a gentle push, Theo lays you down, your body sinking into the soft mattres before hiking your skirt up and ripping your panties off.

"Spread those pretty legs for us," Mattheo commands, his voice hoarse with desire. Theo grips your ankles, pulling your thighs apart until you're fully exposed to them both.

Theo leans between your open thighs, pressing his throbbing cock against your slit. 

"So wet already, you like watching him suck me off, huh? Such a dirty girl," he groans, grinding against you, your arousal coating his shaft.

Theo guides his hardness along your entrance, teasing you with a few slow strokes. Then, with one fluid motion, he plunges into you, making you gasp as your body stretches to accommodate him.

Mattheo stands next to you in the bed, pumping his cock in his hand vigorously. Your gaze shifts towards Matty,, his grip tight and fast as he tugs himself. Theo slams into you hard, pushing you further onto the bed.

“Good boy," Matty moans and your eyes widen, “fuck her just like that.”

Mattheo's breathing hitches as he watches Theo slide in and out of you. The wet sounds of his skin slapping against yours fills the room, punctuated by your occasional whimpers of pleasure.

Theo's thrusts become more urgent, driven by an intense need to fill you completely. "Your pussy feels amazing wrapped around my cock," he groans, his pace quickening.

As Theo pounds into you, Matty leans down and claims your lips with his own. Your mouths mash together, teeth clashing briefly as you moan into each one another.

"Fuck, I'm about to cum,”  Theo grunts.

"Cum inside her," Mattheo groans.

As if the sound of Mattheo's voice turns him on, Theo lets out a final guttural groan as he spills into you, his pulsating cock shooting load after load deep inside your pussy.

As hefinishes, his cock twitching within you, Mattheo wastes no time to push him out of the way. Kneeling before you, he hooks your leg over his shoulder, revealing the hot, sticky mess between your thighs.  He dives in, his tongue lapping eagerly at your slippery folds, collecting the combination of your juices and his best friend's seed.

Mattheo's tongue flicks wildly, painting your inflamed clit with Theo's hot cum as he hungrily devours the remnants of your release.

As Mattheo feasts on your swollen pussy, you feel another orgasm coiling inside you.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, gripping it tightly as he licks you. Your hips buck uncontrollably as Mattheo sucks at your clit, his expert tongue sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You cry out, "Oh god, don't stop!"

The coil within you snaps and Mattheo pauses mid-lick, his eyes widening as he feels the sudden flood between your legs. The force of your orgasm sends warm liquid spurting across his cheek, wetting his face and filling his mouth.

Theo chuckles in awe, you watch him carefully as he gets himself dressed.

“See what a good girl she is?” He asks Mattheo— who is speechless, wiping your cum from his chin. 

[oth-caps]

[cherryslyce]

Amalfi Coast | Theodore Nott

Synopsis: The end of your years at Hogwarts brings about stirring changes: the unveiling of your betrothal to Theodore Nott and an all-expense getaway to Italy for alone time with your husband-to-be.

PAIRING: Theodore Nott x GN!Reader

WORD COUNT + NOTES: 4.5k. I am so weak for Theodore.

The shards of glimmering light that dance across the soft peaks of water distances away seem to speak to you as you drift into your thoughts. Crowded between cliff-hanging abodes and the frothing shore, you’ve never felt so insignificant until that moment. 

Your hand absentmindedly brushes against the fine grains of sand below you, the microscopic beads emanating a pleasant warmth against your palm. You hear a soft thud from beside you just as a comforting presence graces you, the uncomfortable stir of disorientation washing away with the drag of the waves. 

“The unit should be prepped soon. We can grab some food after Mitzy brings over our luggage.” Theodore’s smooth voice hums out, eyes clambering to drink in the sight of the sea as well. 

You smile softly at the mention of the boy’s house-elf, remembering how she had been keen to help you pack for the trip. Nodding, you unconsciously shift closer to the boy as you glance at him, “Sounds like a plan.” 

Theodore looks completely serene much to your confusion. A large part of you was grateful that Theodore was chosen to be your betrothed, but another chunk of your heart twinged painfully at the thought. It was no secret that Nott Sr. was a strict man, and you couldn’t help but spiral into a web of thoughts about how Theodore was likely forced into being with you. 

It had only been a few months since you both graduated from Hogwarts, but you distinctly recall how close Theodore was to Millicent Bulstrode. Your brain sifted through your memories of the girl, remembering her calculative eyes and pin-straight posture. 

You just hoped the girl wouldn’t hex you for swooping in and stealing her boyfriend. 

You and Theodore weren’t exactly close friends, but you both sought out each other’s company during exam season, enjoying the comfortable routine of silence that you both fell into during those days. Outside of the library, interactions with the boy dwindled into nods and occasional smiles. Despite the distance between you both during school, you held onto hope that your familiarity with one another would serve as a stepping stone towards a smooth relationship. 

Conversation with Theodore is sparse for the hours that follow, the both of you mulling over thoughts of pleasantries and faltering topics of chatter. The fervid wind settles the farther you trek from the shoreline, now teetering past assortments of clustered buildings, all mottled with bright colors. 

Your wand presses stiffly against your side as you tuck it into the waistband of your bottoms, concealing it from view as you both approach a swarm of people. Theodore keeps beside you, donning black sunglasses that keeps his searching gaze hidden as you both bask in the foreign environment. 

It was lively and bright, the antithesis to the perpetual gloom and blisters of humming that was encroached in every stone of Britain. White verandas and endless shrubbery adorned the collection of shops around you, catching your eyes every so often. 

“Here we are.” Theodore mutters, throwing you a small smile as your mouth drops into a vague o-shape. 

The restaurant is stretched open with white beams of wood streaming upward to a flat wooden ceiling, the entirety of the seating area is squared away by the side banisters instead of proper walls, letting in the cool wind and seaside view. Theodore steps forward to speak with the hostess, hand lifting up to tug off his sunglasses as a blanket of shade envelopes you both. 

You’re entranced by Theodore’s rapid-fire speaking, wondering if he had chosen Italian for his language lessons in order to strengthen his friendship with Blaise. With Theodore’s fluency and the restaurant’s expansive array of tables, you’re both seated in a matter of minutes. 

The speckless table cloth drapes past your legs like a waterfall, effectively providing a shield against the breeze as you take your spot across from Theodore. The boy plucks his menu up and shoots you an indecipherable look from above the booklet as you remain motionless, seeing as your elementary understanding of Italian begins and ends at Ciao and Grazie.

Theodore’s lips flicker up momentarily before he lays his menu down and shuffles it over to you, “Do you want pasta? Or salad? They also have pizza, if you prefer that.” 

Your lips split into a small smile of relief, a warmth blossoming in your chest as the stiff atmosphere around you both seems to wash away. Theodore reads off of the entire menu for you, eyes occasionally shifting to your concentrated face as you pedal between a few options.

When you finally decide on a dish, Theodore offers you a light hum and shining eyes, paralyzing you for a few moments. Perhaps, and to your relief, your relationship could work out after all. You just needed to clear the air between you both first. 

The meal continues on without a hitch, but you have to make a conscious effort to not stare at the boy in front of you when the sun begins to sink behind the basin of sea water. 

The swirls of orange and pink of the sky illuminate his sharp features, complementing his already striking complexion. A tamed buzzing of conversation wafts through the air, spurring you to word-vomit the thoughts that were plaguing you since your first joint dinner with Theodore and his father weeks before. 

“I’m sorry,” You begin, looking away from Theodore when he meets your gaze with furrowed eyebrows, “about our marriage.” 

Silence ensues after your vague words, and when you finally work up the courage to glance back at Theodore, confusion settles into the etches of your mind as you see his frown and penitent gaze. You had expected false platitudes of reassurance, or bitter resignation—hell, maybe anger—but certainly not the look he was giving you right now. 

Clearing your throat, you sit up and lean forward, “I mean, I know that you would rather not be betrothed to me, so I’m sorry. My parents are quite lenient people, so I should have fought against it since I know your heart belongs to someone else already.” 

“What?” Theodore wheezes out, reeling back to process your words. 

Feeling heat creep up your neck, you falter back with quiet words, “Maybe, if I had refused vehemently, my parents could have convinced your father to not force you. I just wanted to apologize because I don’t want any lingering awkwardness or expectations for each other.”

Before Theodore can respond, your waiter paces over, giving you a polite smile before turning to address Theodore. The boy in front of you distractedly answers the waiter, eyes flickering back to your rigid figure amidst his words. 

Once the waiter parts from your tableside, leaving behind a quaint black tray for your sum, Theodore seems to fall into a silent daze as he robotically composes himself and leaves the money on the tray. When he pushes his chair back, you follow suit, ready to play catch up if he swept away and down into the streets without you. 

To your muted surprise, Theodore stops by your side and holds out his hand for you to take. Hesitantly clasping his calloused hand in yours, you are only able to await his words with bated breath, distracting yourself by focusing on the feeling of his rings against your fingers. 

Theodore leads you yards away from the restaurant, only falling to a halt once you both reach a secluded area beside a blocked-off cliffside. The sound of crashing waves tangles into the air as Theodore’s eyes run around your face for a few moments. 

“Do you want to call this off?” Theodore whispers, eyes steely with resolution as his other hand moves to lightly grip your arm. 

You gape at his blunt words, swallowing thickly as your gaze falls to the ground, “If that’s what you want.” 

“But what do you want?” He mumbles, stepping closer to you as another chilly gust of wind flies around your unguarded figures. 

Peering back up to him, you frown before divulging, “I don’t want to call it off.” 

“Good. Me neither.” Theodore nods, eyes softening at your honesty. 

“But what about Millicent?” You mutter, head tilting with visible perplexion. The poignant reminder of her existence evokes a storm of doubts in your veins, and your head starts spinning with the culmination of the day’s events. 

Theodore cranes his head back to assess you as he plainly responds, “What about her?” 

This time, it’s your turn to survey his confused face with a mirrored look, “What? She’s your girlfriend? I can’t in good conscience do that to someone, arranged or not.” 

Theodore’s mouth parts as he stares at you, and for a moment you’re disconcerted by the thought that he perhaps only just remembered her, but then, the most remarkable thing happens—Theodore starts to chuckle. His shoulders quake faintly with every muffled sound, and after a few moments, he throws his head back to let it out toward the darkening sky. 

Before you have a moment to question the boy’s sanity, he turns back to you with a wide grin, “Is that what you were talking about earlier? You caught me from left field. I was worried that you were displeased because your heart belonged to someone already.” 

Seeing your inquiring eyes, he shuffles closer and shakes his head, “I’m not dating Millicent, silly one. Where’d you get that grand idea from?”

“You guys were always together, and all the rumors–” Your words come out borderline defensive, neck blazing from embarrassment. 

Theodore huffs and squeezes your arm, softly cutting you off from your spiel, “Just rumors. I wouldn’t have agreed to any sort of arrangement if I was with someone else, my father knows that much.” 

“Right, yeah. Sorry.” You nod, scratching at your neck to dispel the humiliation that would live on in your head until your last moments on Earth. 

“Silly.” Theodore hums, letting go of your arm to tap at your forehead, “Let’s head to our place before we freeze, yeah?” 

Your rental unit was quite spacious to your surprise, and you were almost too enraptured with touching every inch of furniture to notice that there was only one bed in the entire space. Almost. 

Theodore is cognizant of the same dilemma, clicking his tongue dryly as he murmurs quietly under his breath. 

“I can take the floor.” You speak up almost zealously, easily masking how the prospect of waking with a sore back was killing you on the inside. Theodore and you had barely started building a thin understanding for your relationship, and you’d be damned if a single bed would stir up tension again. 

Theodore swivels to look at you, “No need, we can share the bed. If you’re uncomfortable, I���ll take the floor.” His voice leaves little room for argument, and he runs a hand through his locks as he nods reassuringly at you. You’re touched by his consideration and understanding, glad that you weren’t in such a position with someone like Crabbe or Goyle, both of whom would likely grunt inaudibly and leave you to your ministrations. 

“Let’s share, then.” You concede, heart thrumming fervently in your chest. 

Theodore smiles softly at you and beckons you closer as he sits down on the bed, hand reaching out for you as you slowly tread forward. When you gently place your hand in his, he gives a faint tug, eyes darting down to the empty spot beside him. 

Once you’re snug on the plush mattress, you turn to him with a wry grin, “We’ve skipped pretty much every single conventional step to get here. From study partners to life partners.” 

“I suppose you’re right,” the corner of his mouth slants up, “from barely knowing my name to taking my surname, hm? Quite unorthodox.” 

Shaking your head, you flop back onto the bed, keenly aware of how Theodore tightens his hold on your hand as it begins to slip away. Peering up at him, you raise an eyebrow, “Who said I’m taking your last name, Nott? You’re taking mine.” 

“Hyphenating, it is.” He murmurs as his eyes trail toward the balcony ways off across the room. 

You chuckle and stare into the abyss of the dim ceiling, “Any excuse to have a ridiculously extensive name.” 

“Never as ridiculous as Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.” He muses, slowly lowering himself to lay beside you. 

A few tantalizing beats pass before your jumbled mind seems to take away any semblance of restraint from your mouth, “I never thought it would be you, to be frank.” 

“Yeah?” Theodore hums, head now turned towards you. 

Nodding, you run your free hand along the edge of the bed as you continue, “My parents had been considering Crabbe for a while. I mean, they know nothing about him, but I can just imagine how that dinner would have gone once they realized just who they were shipping me off to.” 

Theodore continues to study you, hand squeezing yours again before he mumbles, “I knew it’d be you.” 

Snapping your head to the side, your eyes widen at his hooded gaze, “Really?” 

“My father knew it too. That I wouldn’t have anyone but you.” His admission knocks the wind from your lungs, and you almost want to throttle yourself off the bed to ensure that you weren’t dreaming. 

“Yeah?” You ask dumbly, heart stuttering against your ribs. 

Theodore shifts to lean on his elbow, bringing his face closer to yours as he whispers, “Want to know a secret?” 

All you can do is nod, trying to blink away the dizziness coiling around your head from the close proximity. 

He hums and slowly retracts his hand, bringing a finger to trail the bedding beside your shoulder, “I was the one to ask your parents for permission to court you. Now, I’m going to wash up first, I promise I won’t be long.” 

Without a hitch, Theodore swiftly clambers off of the bed, leaving the mattress to gently recoil against your back as it expands to its original form. You’re only able to grapple for a coherent thought once the bathroom door shuts with a click, barring you from staring at Theodore in wonder. 

Once you hear the stream of the shower head emit from the bathroom, you slowly prop yourself up and trudge towards the balcony, swinging the glass doors open and allowing the whistling wind to zip through the newly exposed aperture. The biting breeze nips at your cheeks as you stare into the sky, surveying all the twinkling stars as you recount the day’s events. 

You aren’t exactly sure what you’re going to say to Theodore, or if you’re even going to be able to look him in the eyes once he emerges from the bathroom, but you supposed that the turn of events unfolded more pleasantly than you could have hoped.

The distant clamoring of partygoers ways away from the balcony lulls you into a loop of idle daydreams, and you aren’t sure how many minutes have passed since Theodore’s departure from your side, but the whirlwind of your elusive thoughts dissipates when a warm hand grazes your arm. 

“You alright? I’ve been calling your name for a bit now.” Theodore mumbles, eyes glazed with worry as he searches your blank expression. 

Blinking slowly, you nod and offer a faint smile, “Fine, just lost in my thoughts.” 

“It’s a bit chilly out here,” He glances to his right, evidently hearing the faint pulsing of music as well, “why don’t we head in?” 

“Yeah,” you whisper, smiling at him, “I’ll try not to wake you when I get out of the shower.” 

As you make your way to weave around the boy, body feeling weightless despite the fatigue drenching your muscles, you can feel his eyes following you until you’re swallowed by the shadows of the room. 

The numbing balm of the night’s wind melts away from your face as you peer up into the shower head. The swath of steam that swirls around your body, cloaking the mirrors and walls, seems to inhibit the taunts of your overactive brain. 

Your getaway would continue for another week before you’d begin wedding arrangements, already feeling the splintering headache emerging at the thought of sitting down and picking between a plethora of cloth samples. Unions between pureblood families were a big deal for the elite circle of families as the event would serve as the perfect opportunity for pretense and business transactions between different houses. 

When you crack the bathroom door open with a muffled pop, dismissing the rush of steam that flees hurriedly into the cool room, you vaguely make out the figure of Theodore propped up against the headboard. The hues of moonlight peek through the bare panes of your window, curtains swept aside, faintly illuminating the silhouette of the furniture. 

“Still up?” You whisper, padding over to delicately arrange yourself beside the boy. 

As you shuffle under the plush covers, dragging the edges under your arms, you turn to peer at Theodore’s profile, watching as his throat bobs down as he slowly turns to you. 

“Didn’t want to sleep without you.” He mutters, slowly sinking to lay down beside you. 

You suppress the tender smile threatening to peel across your face and nod, “I see. You’re not a restless sleeper, are you?”

“Are you?” He quietly intones, voice growing fainter as sleep begins to grip at his consciousness. 

“No, I’m not.” You hum, resisting the urge to sweep your fingers forward in search of his, “Goodnight, Theodore.” 

“Goodnight.” 

You both fall asleep facing one another, inches apart as the glow of the moonlight chases away the gulfs of darkness that slink in the corners of your room. It is in this position that your slumber is torn away from you mere hours later, moonlight now dispersing into small shards that nearly blend away against the white covers. 

The foggy film that clouds your senses and sight reel away as you hear a small grunt from beside you followed by incessant shifting. Blinking away your drowsiness, you slowly shift up to survey Theodore, slowly comprehending his distress. 

Theodore huffs out, a muffled groan blooming into the quiet atmosphere around you. Carefully reaching over, you shake the boy’s arm, eyebrows furrowing when he simply shifts again. 

“Theodore, hey,” You feebly call out, shaking his arm more frantically as he remains trapped in the desolate rapids of unconsciousness. 

Leaning down you bring your other hand to softly pat his cheek, you wait with bated breath as his ministrations quell before ceasing entirely. Eyes now accustomed to the veil of midnight darkness, you see his eyes slowly blink open, a light sigh escaping his lips as he begins to claw back into reality. 

“Hey, it’s alright, you’re alright,” You softly murmur, bringing your fingers up to gently card back his waves, any semblance of fatigue evaporating from your bones as you focus on comforting the boy. 

Theodore brings his hand up to yours, eyes beginning to sluggishly droop again, “Y/N?” 

“Hm?” You hum out, readjusting your position as sickly soreness jolts up your arm. 

“I guess I am a restless sleeper.” He mumbles, nudging against his pillow before he emits another sigh. His voice rumbles lethargically, and you sense that he is about to slip away into slumber again when he tightens his hold on your hand. 

“Hm. What’s up?” You whisper, moving to lay down as well. 

Theodore is silent for a few seconds before he tersely whispers back, voice nearly drowned out by the thumping of your heart in your ears, “Can I hold you?” 

You shift closer to the cocoon of warmth batting off of him, steadily bringing your arm to wrap around him, “Of course.” 

Theodore wraps his arms around you and drags you towards him, a content hum buzzing from his throat as he tucks you under his chin. For the few grand moments that pass afterward, you are left to contemplate the consequences your position would entail for when the sun rose, and you fervently hoped that no awkwardness would ensue. 

Your close proximity to Theodore allows you to hear the faint thumping of his heartbeat, now undeviating in its rhythm. Bringing your free hand forward, you tuck it in the nestle of warmth between your bodies, trying to conjure inklings of sleep as a dense pressure burrowed itself in your eyes. 

The lull of concentration fades into blind navigation in the crevices of your mind, and when your pulsing thoughts dwindle to incomprehensible echoes, slumber greets you once again.

When your mind blisters into stark clarity, it is with recognition of the orange hues flashing in your vision and the traces of aimless lines on your back. Your body instinctively pines for the cushion of bliss that mutely calls for you: a mixture of aftershave and pear. 

For a few moments, it is completely tranquil. Until you realize that your pillow had a heartbeat. 

The revelation is enough to jumpstart the discombobulated wires of your brain. Your eyes crack open to greet the rays of light that crowd your vision, an unpleasant stinging causing you to squint as you huff out. 

“Good morning.” Theodore’s voice is gravelly, barely above a whisper. 

“Hi Theodore.” You mumble out, remaining motionless against him. 

His chest vaguely rumbles and you feel him splay one his hands against your back, “Theo. Only my father and Blaise call me Theodore.” 

“Blaise?” You tiredly repeat, cheek squishing against his shirt. 

“At his insistence, honestly. He thinks it’s fun.” Theodore hums, and that reminder has your hazy brain blinking with a sudden memory. 

“Wait. Theodora, right?” You raise your head up, a wide grin plastered on your face as you remember the one night when Blaise dragged him away from your study routine using that nickname. 

Theodore blinks before he groans into the air, bringing one of his arms up to throw over his eyes as he grumbles, “Merlin, I was hoping you’d forget or even mishear that.”  

“Oh, I almost did, but Blaise’s ruckus was far more interesting than a Potions essay.” Theodore hums tiredly at the mention, and his reaction only spurs you on, “So, does he make it a habit to say Theodora, or is Dora better?” You say cheekily, shrugging innocently when Theodore peers down at you with a playful glare. 

“Enough about Blaise,” Theodore mumbles, poking your ribs with his fingers as he maneuvers to sit up, dragging you to lean into his side as he did so, “I have something planned for today.” 

“You’re being frighteningly vague, should I be worried?” You hum, muffling a low yawn. 

Theodore shakes his head and dryly huffs , “Actually, I was planning on testing a few levitating charms on you.” His fingers dance lightly against your back as his voice drops into a feathery tone, “Have some faith in me.” 

“I trust you.” You murmur, exhaling through your nose in amusement before you grow serious, “Anyway, did you sleep okay?” 

Theodore doesn’t answer you, and you slowly raise your eyes to meet his face in confusion, “Theo?” 

“Hm?” He hums distractedly, face craning closer to yours as he seems to almost stare through you. 

Your heart collapses into the void of your ribcage for a split second before it begins to thrust violently against your chest, spurring a sea of warmth up your neck and ears. Theodore’s eyes flicker across your face as his hands begin to absentmindedly draw patterns against your sides. 

You aren’t sure you’re breathing properly. Or at all. 

One of his hands trails up to your arm, sliding to rest on the junction between your neck and shoulder as he muses, “Before we get up and go on about our day, I have something for you.” 

Your eyebrows wrinkle at his words, eyes not straying away from his unwavering gaze. This time, it’s you who gives a small hum, patiently waiting for his next words. 

“Just a small gift,” He whispers, slowly slotting his other hand on the small of your back, “It’s been a long time coming, really.” 

His eyes drop down to your lips and that’s all you really need before you’re leaning towards him with anticipation, hands steadying themselves on his chest. Theodore’s lips part and he gazes at you for confirmation, jaw clenching imperceptibly as words become lost between you both. 

When you remain resolute, he swiftly connects his lips to yours, mouth moving feverishly against yours. His hands press against your body, keeping you grounded as he begins to lean over you, lips never ceasing in their frenzied dance against yours. 

Grasping the sides of his neck, you tug him impossibly closer to you as he hovers over you, one of his hands moving to run soothingly along your waist. 

A few more heated moments pass before the tug for air becomes too great to ignore, causing you to break away from him, head tilting to the side as your lungs tinge with a faint tightness. Theodore grunts at your escape, chasing after you as he tries to satiate his desire, only opting to leave heavy kisses against your cheek and jaw when you tap his neck. 

Closing your eyes, you bring your fingers to card through his hair as you attempt to halt the dizzying stars spinning across your eyelids. Amidst your fruitless efforts, a sudden tug has your eyes flying open, a bemused hum echoing through the air once you realize Theodore is guiding you to sit up. 

He remains silent as he glides down from the side of the bed, hand drifting to lace with yours as he pulls you to sit at the edge of the mattress. Reaching towards the bottom drawer of the white dresser, Theodore only briefly glances away as he fishes out a small velvet box. 

“Theo?” You mumble, eyes widening as he drops down on both of his knees. 

“Ring.” He answers quietly, deftly opening the box and pulling out a thin silver band. 

He drops kisses to your knees as he gazes up towards you, bringing one of his hands forward in muted questioning. Smiling softly, you place your left hand in his outstretched one, holding your breath when he slips the ring onto your ring finger with ease. 

His hand continues to hold yours, thumb rubbing against your skin as he stares at the band. 

“Thank you.” He finally says, lifting his face up to survey yours, his position leaving him at your complete mercy. 

Your hands instinctively reach out to cup his face, bringing him in for another kiss as a newfound contentment curls into your chest. Theodore remains on his knees as he leans forwards, hands chancing a light slide against your hips as he reciprocates your affection.  

“Fuck, how mad do you think everyone will be if we just eloped?” He grunts out before diving forward again to meet your lips. 

Pulling back with a small laugh, you shake your head, “My parents would have your head.” 

“I’m willing to pay that price, love.” He grins against your lips, nose nudging against yours. 

Patting his cheek, you narrow your eyes playfully, “Well I’m not, so behave.” 

“Yes, dear.”

masterlist

[tvshowscouples]

If you love Mouth&Millie (OTH) and you want reblog or like,this is the link of my reblog couples :)

thank you!

[starryeyesxx]

[mugiwara-lucy]

Brooke really would kidnap Haley’s baby 😂

And Brooke WOULD be a superstar who is PERFECT for camera!! 😤

And I can listen to Bethany Joy Lenz (Haley) sing all day!! 🥰

[blorger]

“That was a good meal. Fancy a walk after the coffee’s been brought in, Potter?” “Er, no, thanks. I thought I’d—” “It’s a nice night,” Zabini continues. “I thought we could—” “Sit uncomfortably and coldly on the Quidditch pitch stands, and have an awkward conversation?” Harry asks, which seems to throw Zabini. “I already did that today. With Parkinson.” “I see,” Zabini says, grinning. “Maybe I don’t need to bother, then. Did you do a good job, Pans?” Pansy considers this, a spoonful of fruit salad halfway to her mouth. “Adequate,” she says, and takes a bite. “I didn’t make Potter cry, but I think he suffered.” “Did you tell him that if that thing we were discussing becomes common knowledge, we’ll band together and destroy him?” “No,” Pansy says. Zabini turns to Harry. “Potter, if that thing we were discussing becomes common knowledge, we will band together and destroy you.” “Also, castration,” Millicent adds. And when everyone turns to look at her, she shrugs. “Just saying.” “All right, we’ll add that to the list,” Zabini says. “I mean, technically ‘we’ll destroy you’ already covers that, but I suppose it does no harm to be specific.” “You do know you’re having this conversation in public,” Harry says tetchily, pushing his untouched dessert plate away and refusing coffee from the house-elf by his ear. “This top-secret and frankly alarming conversation.”

from Written on the Heart by who_la_hoop

[bweeeb]

JEALOUS

Part one

Theodore Nott x Y/n Millicent reader x Mattheo Riddle

Friends to lovers

Summary: When S/n is pressured into acting out a scene with Matheo during a truth or dare game at her birthday party, Teodoro ends up having sex with the person who hurt his best friend, Anastácia Conde.

Warnings: Mention of sex, anguish, intense drama, cigarette use, communication difficulties, jealousy expressed through poor choices.

This may be pure drama on both sides, but I hope you enjoy it

Being someone who held onto grudges was never Y/n Millicent's thing, in general, the Millicent family never kept grudges. Y/n's mother always said that resentment would cause wrinkles on her forehead, and the wrinkles would drive clients away. So, they always resolved things before any trace of hatred could linger. Believe me, no one liked having grudges with the Millicents because when they held a grudge, you would be unlucky until the end of the next generation.

In her fourth year, Y/n dismissed the wrinkles and consequences, harboring the deepest possible resentment in her heart against Anastasia Conde.

— Why do you even want to invite her? I don't see any benefit in her coming tonight. Daphne crossed her arms irritably, exasperated by the boys' idea.

— My parents have become friends with hers...

— Since when do your parents tolerate Gryffindors? Mattheo asked.

— Her father was in Slytherin and was even friends with your father. Draco replied, causing an immediate scowl on Riddle's face.

— They want me to try to integrate her into Slytherin. But I don't know, man. Anastasia seemed pretty normal when I talked to her at a charity dinner in London. He sighed, almost indignant at the silent accusations Pansy was throwing at him with her eyes. — I care about Y/n, allright? If things get out of hand, I'll just tell my parents she's just another insignificant Gryffindor.

— Seriously? Are you stupid or what? Pansy grumbled at Draco, who shrugged from the other side of the breakfast table.

— She’s changed, Pansy! Even Theo agrees. Draco countered, starting to feel bad when he saw Y/n walking toward the table.

— It's her birthday, Draco.

— It’s all good now. We’re not kids anymore. Theodore assured, but Pansy, with a scowl on her face, sulked.

— She's your best friend, Theodore. Are you really going to let the girl who made her cry for over a month come to her birthday party?

— Relax, Pansy. I told you, it’s all good! She’s talked to her therapist about it; the Millicents don’t hold grudges.

— It’s not all good, are you too dumb or too blind to see that it’s not?

— What’s all good or not all good? Y/n approached the table, smiled at her friends, and turned to look at Theo, who was seated and had saved a spot next to him.

— Hey, beautiful. Mattheo smiled at Y/n, who laughed at her friend’s flirtation and sat down after smiling and rolling her eyes.

— Ah, you and... Draco began to speak but was interrupted by Pansy. — Our outfits for the party. A mischievous smile appeared on Y/n's lips as she turned to Theo once again.

— By the way, thanks for the dress. She thanked him, and Theo hoped the trace of confusion on his face wasn’t noticed by the girl in front of him. He didn’t want to disappoint his best friend by saying the gift wasn’t from him.

— Yeah, sure.

— You didn’t have to buy me anything; my birthday is only next...

— Week, I know, principessa, I just... I just wanted you to look pretty tonight. Theodore wanted to strangle himself when those words left his mouth, and the fact that he hadn’t bought anything for Y/n made things worse. However, he knew that after telling Y/n the truth, he would buy her every dress she wanted.

— What color is the dress, Theodore? Mattheo’s sudden voice broke their little world and made them look at Riddle.

— If you don’t know, you’ll see tonight. Theodore snapped with a scowl on his face.

— I bet it’s white; our girl looks sexy in that color, doesn’t she? Y/n was already used to Mattheo’s occasional flirtations, and given their long-standing friendship, she laughed nasally, amused by how Mattheo teased just to annoy Theodore.

— Shut up, man. Theo growled, and noticing the tense atmosphere at the table, Y/n nudged her friend with her leg and placed it over his thigh, intending to make him look at her.

— It’s only seven in the morning, Merlin. Daphne sighed and turned to Pansy with a worried look. Neither of the two girls agreed to invite Anastasia to the party they planned to throw in the Slytherin common room, nor did they see the purpose of it. — Could we go to Hogsmeade before we start getting ready, please? I need to do some shopping. Daphne looked at Y/n and Pansy beside her, who agreed excitedly.

— Sure, plus, we better go because you need to help me understand the History of Magic before lunch. Pansy said, grabbing her friend’s arm and pulling her away from Theo.

— You didn’t understand the History class, Parkinson? Mattheo looked at the black-haired girl with a mocking look, to which she rolled her eyes dramatically.

— I don’t know if you know, Riddle, but I’m great with my hands, not with memory.

— Ouch. Mattheo pretended to feel pain in his chest as Pansy made a face at him.

— Hey, bella, are we still on for Italian lessons tomorrow? Theodore held his best friend’s hand, who looked at him and smiled brightly.

— If we’re still alive, yes.

— Let’s go, let’s go. Pansy grumbled, pulling Millicent out of the hall.

§∆

Around seven, Pansy, Daphne, and Y/n were finishing getting ready when the room was invaded by the four boys with their shirts unbuttoned, cigarettes lit, drinks in hand, and a dubious bottle in Mattheo’s grasp.

— All set, I think tonight we need to get drunk. And the first one to drink has to be the birthday girl. Mattheo did a little dance and gave a cheeky smile to Millicent, who was in her short, slightly see-through white dress, accompanied by a silver mesh adorned with sparkling diamonds. Her thin, silver heels hit the carpet, and Mattheo gestured for her to open her mouth. She did, and he poured the alcoholic liquid into her mouth, which she swallowed, smiling.

— Good girl. Mattheo murmured and moved away to approach Pansy and Daphne. Y/n saw Theo coming toward her with a pack of cigarettes in his mouth. He passed it to her, and she took a drag, blowing the smoke in his face.

— Good girl, who the hell does this guy think he is. Theodore groaned irritably, and Y/n laughed loudly.

— He loves to provoke you, and that reaction is exactly what he wants, Teddy.

— Uhm.

— And you guys are my best friends, so stop it today, please.

— Tutto quello che vuoi, amore mio.

— Wow, you look so hot, girl. Pansy appeared behind Y/n and hugged her.

— I think we should go down already. Blaise said, getting up from the bed where he was sitting, and Draco agreed, taking the cigarette from Theodore's hand.

§∆

Slytherin parties were always the most crowded and definitely the most anticipated by the students because either everything went right... or everything went wrong. It was always a surprise to see how the party would end.

By eleven, most of the students were already drunk and high on wizard herbs, and meanwhile, a group had formed around the sofas in the Slytherin common room with a bottle in the middle.— Isn’t spin the bottle a kid’s game? The voice made Y/n turn her gaze to the figure behind Theodore. Anastasia Conde raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms authoritatively.

— If you don’t know how to play, it is... Y/n murmured, and Draco nudged Pansy.

— See, they’re fine.

— I think I want to play. The redheaded girl, the only redhead from Gryffindor that Y/n swore had come straight from a hole in hell to earth, was sitting next to Theodore, and with all her anger, she hoped Anastasia wouldn’t ruin her night.

Draco spun the bottle once and ended up kissing Pansy on the first round, and everyone there could swear they saw Blaise’s eyes burning with fire at Malfoy for the first time. As the game continued, Daphne did a lap dance on a Hufflepuff guy, Blaise made a seventh-year boy admit to being a virgin, Theodore was forced to take off his shirt and dance while Mattheo poured dragon whiskey on his body, and when the bottle stopped for the first time, giving Y/n the choice of truth or dare, she chose: — Dare.

— That’s my girl! Daphne shouted, and Pansy clapped her hands in anticipation.

Draco didn’t go easy, and he wouldn’t go easy now that he found it satisfying to make Theo jealous of his little dolcezza. — I dare you to act like you’re having sex with Mattheo right here.

— You fucking bastard.

— Should’ve picked truth, principessa. The wrong accent made Theodore’s face turn as red as a pepper, and his anger worsened when he saw Mattheo’s satisfied smile aimed at the Italian in front of him.

— Come here, baby. Mattheo teased, and Y/n smiled at Riddle’s mockery. She stood up, lifted the silver, diamond-adorned part of the dress, and sat on Mattheo’s lap as if there wasn’t an audience watching them. She leaned into Riddle’s ear as if she knew what she was doing and whispered: — I don’t know what to do. Mattheo’s astonished look fell on Millicent’s figure, who laughed nasally, embarrassed.

— Damn, baby. I didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth. Mattheo smiled and grabbed the girl’s waist, moving her back and forth. — Just act naturally, princess. You know what to do. Riddle murmured while planting wet kisses on his friend’s neck.

— Come on, Y/n! Are you going to let him control you? Y/n heard Draco’s provocation and rolled her eyes, followed by: — Go to hell, Malfoy.

Angrily, Y/n pushed Mattheo down, causing his back to hit the floor. She then straddled his hips and moved quickly on his lap. — Now I see what I was expecting.

— Fuck. Mattheo's hands gripped Millicent's hips harder as she felt his cock harden beneath her, apparently, it was working then.

Attempting a fake moan that turned almost real, Y/n threw her head back, her curls falling to cover where her dress should have been, but it had ridden up to her waist. When she thought she had finally given everyone what they wanted, Y/n got off Matheo, who looked stunned, and went back to her usual place next to Theo, who had a scowl on his face. — Are you okay?

— Why wouldn't I be? Theodore responded without even looking at her, it was obvious to Y/n that something was wrong.

— Teddy? It was the dare... She pointed out breathlessly.

— I don't care, Y/n, I don't care, really. When she was about to say something else, the bottle stopped on Anastasia and Y/n. She never wanted the bottle to land on her as much as at that moment.

— Truth or dare? Anastasia asked in a tone that made Y/n doubt if she was really a Gryffindor and not a Slytherin.

— Truth.

— Is it true that you've never slept with anyone because you caught diseases from that flea-ridden cat of yours that was killed? Silence fell over the circle, and Y/n cursed her for decades in her head.

— Fuck you, Anastasia.

— Wait, a better question, is it true that your flea-ridden cat was killed because it caught diseases from you?

— Anastasia. Draco called the Gryffindor's attention, showing that she had crossed the line, and the redhead looked at the blonde with a mocking smile on her face.

— What?

— Let's continue, guys... Blaise said, spinning the bottle again and continuing the game without the same vibe as before.

Two more hands joined the game, and two rounds after Anastasia's questions, her friend spun the bottle and dared her to kiss someone in the circle.

— I think I'll go with Teddy Bear.

Y/n Millicent had never wanted to vomit as much as she did at that moment. Seeing her best friend and her worst enemy kissing right beside her made Y/n get up from her spot, her eyes full of tears of rage, and run after a cigarette to calm her nerves. — Fuck it. Her friends knew that wasn't the problem; she wouldn't react so badly if it were anyone else, but it was Anastasia.

After twenty minutes sitting on the stairs, Pansy's presence beside her made her look up, disheartened, and blow the smoke from her cigarette.

— I'm sorry about Theo, love. Pansy hugged her friend by the shoulders and pulled her closer to take a drag from her cigarette.

— He's going to fuck her, isn't he? Y/n asked, already knowing the answer by the tone of disgust in her voice.

— Probably.

— Stupid. Men are so stupid, and you know what? I'm tired of being stupid too. The girl got up angrily, making Pansy follow her movements.

— What do you mean, Y/n?

— You should fuck Blaise, Pans. He really wants to fuck you. The sincerity in Millicent's words made Parkinson choke on her own saliva.

— Excuse me?

— And me? I should had sex.

— With Theo?

— You know I love him, Pansy, but he doesn't feel the same, so if I'm not going to fuck him, I'll fuck my other best friend. Quickly descending the stairs, Pansy grabbed her arm and made her look at her briefly.

— Theo loves you too, dear. You're drunk and upset...

— No, Pans...actually, yes, but he doesn't love me like I love him. Maybe I'm being stupid or overly dramatic too, but screw it. She broke free and went downstairs toward the sofa where Mattheo was sitting with Draco beside him and Blaise on the chair in front.

— Remember what I said. Y/n said, glancing at Blaise before settling onto Mattheo's lap and noticing his erection pressing against her butt.

— Hi. She wrapped her arms around Riddle, who gave her a drunken smile.

— Hi, baby.

— Do you remember what I said earlier? That i didn't know what to do; what do you think about teaching me? Hmm? Mattheo's carefree look remained, as if he didn't believe what the girl in his lap was offering him.

— Mattheo! She slapped Riddle's chest, and he laughed in response.

— What?

— I'm serious.

— About what? — I want you to fuck me. As soon as the words left the girl's mouth, Mattheo straightened up on the couch with her in his lap.

— Really? He asked.

— Really. She confirmed. With this mutual agreement, Millicent's lips fell on Mattheo's neck, making him gasp and lift his hips to meet hers.

— Fuck, Y/n.

— Take me to your room, Matt. Y/n panted, and Mattheo, without thinking much, got up from the couch with her and guided her to the boys' dormitories, where upon reaching his door, his steps halted, and the hand not holding hers rubbed his face.

— Fuck. I really want to fuck you, baby, but Theo's in there... — Mattheo turned to face her, looking into her eyes.

— Get him out then.

— You want revenge, little one, I get it, let's make that bastard regret it then, baby. Mattheo said, laughing and kissing her lips before banging on the door. — Theodore. — He called his friend by name, and it didn't take long for the door to open halfway, revealing Nott with messy hair and, if seen well, regretful eyes, but Y/n tried not to notice.

— What? The boy's accent hit Y/n's ears, and she lowered her gaze to her hand held by Mattheo's.

— I need my fucking room, bro. You've already fucked, now leave. Mattheo was more rude than usual and pulled Y/n closer.

— Okay, got it, wait a minute. The door closed, and Mattheo turned to look at the girl behind him.

— Are you okay? — Nothing will change between us, right, Matt?

— We'll still be friends, Y/n. We'll just strengthen our friendship. He laughed, satisfied to see that he had made her laugh.

The door opened, and Theodore came out with Anastasia behind him. As soon as his gaze met Mattheo's and Y/n's behind him, holding hands and with her dress slightly lifted, Theodore felt the ground pulling him and leaving him breathless, suffocating him as the door closed. He knew what was happening inside.

Mattheo's hands roamed Millicent's body as they both took off their clothes. — You look so hot in that outfit, baby. — Mattheo grunted — And I knew it would look perfect on you, but I have to see you without it.

The boy laid her delicately on his bed and kissed her neck with wet kisses, provoking moans from. Y/n. — Did you give me the dress?

— Yeah. Theodore is a liar, he knew she was coming too. Anastácia, stupid. Mattheo didn't even notice what he was saying about Theo, but after speaking, he realized he just wanted to make her forget a little.

— Ugh. Son of a bitch. She moaned, feeling Mattheo sucking her neck at a specific spot.

— You like it here? Mm-hmm, you like it. Mattheo murmured and moaned in response to the girl's moans beneath him.

— Matt. She moaned.

— I know, princess. Mattheo agreed, rubbing against her. — I'm going to fuck you so well. So well, princess. He repeated while taking off the remaining clothes. — I want you to sit on me like you did earlier, so I hurt you less, princess. And I swear I'll make you feel so good...

— Matt...

In the end, Y/n could affirm the rumors were true. Mattheo Riddle knew how to use his dick very well.

____

Requests are open, message me if you have any ideas💞

Read part two here

[columba1234]

Hey Ben and Holly fandom, I need some help describing the show's Fairy Magic System please? I'm in the process of doing my Future AU and I need to properly understand it. I know it has:

An introduction post about the magic system in Ben and Holly's Little Kingdom

- Soft magic: It doesn't have much rules, but fairies need wands to cast spells, the wands can be sick and not waterproof, and no magic in No Magic Day. Moreover, the only magical limit I've seen is the number of spells the caster knows (which can be improved by further learning and practice).

- Appearance: Magic in Ben and Holly appear as white sparkles of light (can be compared to white glitter). In the winter or space, fairy magic would change into neon colours to stand out (which is a design choice that I love:

- Transformative: The characters use magic to transform something into the other. Eg: frogs, cats, other animals, etc.

- Unpredictable: How many times the magic went wrong in the series? I've lost count of it.

- Effects on the caster: Fairy toddlers have trouble controlling their magic, which makes it go haywire. Fairy kids and inexperienced casters have to use cast spells verbally, whereas experienced and adult fairies can cast them non-verbally.

- Spells and how to cast them: Rhyming and hand control are the most important aspects of a spell. A spell needs the right rhyming, clearcut meaning, and right hand gesture, or else it would go wrong. And all incantations is temporary, their effects will be worn off at some point.

- Wands: Strangely, the elves are the one who make the wands, and the general structure consist of a 6-pointed star head with faces, and a stick made from the fairies namesake plant, like this:

The internal structure of the wand consist of cogs and springs, truly a master of elven engineering to accommodate something as opposite and unpredictable as fairy magic. Inside the head has the structure that resembles that of a watch, with the faces eyes and mouth controlled by clockwork and magic (presumably from the wooden stick, since it needs to be specially grown). A spring in the stick's centre probably channels the wood's magic to the head, where it is used to control the cogs, then the wand's emotions, and being dispersed outside, in the form of fairy dust. (This is me attempt to explain wand mechanics, and for anyone who studies actual mechanics, please correct me for anything wrong). The internal structure looks like this:

Each fairy has a specific theme colour and has their clothes and wands in that palette and it does not have to be the same colour as the flower/fruit/plant, as shown by Holly (who should be red/green) and Rosie (anything but turquoise). In the reign of Vlad and Sharon, Millicent and Victor, (aka Granny and Grandpapa), the wands used to looked much bigger and crazier (with the exception of Mrs. Fig, whose wand looks normal). From King Thistle's reign to the present, all wands look like the model above, but with different colours and sizes depends on the fairy and their age.

- Healing properties: Fairy magic can cure anything but the common cold.

- Related to plants and life: the fairies' wands' handle is made from specially grown plants, which the fairies are named after). I think this is related to the transformative and healing properties of fairy magic, since plants grow and transform their appearances, and many of them are used medically. Plus, plants are life, and magical objects are sentient (Nanny's cookbook, the wands, etc) so it connects the plant/ life theme I guess 🤷‍♀️. Other observations from canon such as why the wands has faces, etc is in this ask by the blog @ben-and-holly-headcannon-blog (now deleted ;((()

This is the most I that I convey into words (my observational skills are not that good yet) . If you can describe it in more detail, please reblog me!

(Edit: I've accidentally made an introduction post about the magic system in Ben and Holly's Little Kingdom 😅)

[wisteria-blooms]

sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader) (5/??)

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST: @badgerqueen07 @superduckmilkshake @k-k-merlin @kisskittenn @pluiesdefleurs@lilianelena39 @bathwater101 @evilunicorns4minions @noah-uhhh-what (Let me know if I missed you, or if you want to be added!) A/N: Thank you guys for the sweet comments! I love reading them and they make me write faster, apparently, haha. Let me know if you have any predictions! I'm super curious. ;)

CHAPTER 5: You get a lot more than you bargained for when Charlie shows up at dinner. For one, how does he manage to make politics, sexy? (4.7k words)

CHAPTER 5: ELECTRIC POLITICS

You were cloaked in warm and well slept-in sheets. You nestled yourself in that comfort for another moment before turning onto your back and cracking an eye open. Above you was a familiar tall and white ceiling. Yep, you were definitely back in your bed. It was always in the earliest of mornings that for the briefest of moments, your mind was inclined to forget what had happened the night before. As your lucidity grew, figments of last night came to you slowly. 

You were at a bar with Charlie, talking about plans…

…That he shredded.

Right, that happened.

But had it all been a dream? Maybe it was still the morning after that disastrous dinner and your subconscious had plotted out the past couple of “days”. 

You pulled your covers off and stared at your naked kneecap. There was a light bruise, a pale spot of red, from when Charlie was trying to ‘gauge’ your limits or whatever he’d called it.  To think he’d left a mark by just casually holding your knee in his hand, not even intently putting pressure on it. To think if he’d done anything with intent… 

“Get a grip on yourself,” you chastised, fanning away thoughts that were too lewd for the morning. You were growing annoyed with yourself after losing every shroud of strong-headedness you had. Charlie was just attractive and confident. But so were thousands of other men in the world, so why did he get to control your narrative last night?

You exhaled, resolving to think about it later, then walked over to the closet to dress for the day. 

Narcissa was the only one in the sunroom when you arrived. It looked like your father and Draco had already had breakfast and gone off to do whatever the day asked of them. 

“Good morning,” you greeted, slipping into your chair.

“You got in late last night,” Narcissa responded.

You shrugged. “It was Friday, and I’m young.”

There was a wrinkle of disapproval on her mouth. By now, Lucius would’ve told her about Charlie and about your little scene last weekend at the cafe, and she would’ve filled in your whereabouts last night with that information.

She looked out the garden and then back at you. “What does your schedule look like in a month’s time? Say, the second Sunday of October?”

“I imagine it’s free.”

“You best keep it open, then,” Narcissa continued. “My monthly book club is inviting a prolific author for tea. I would like you to join us.”

“Oh?” She’d certainly piqued your interest. “Who?”

“Madame Millicent,” she said. “She’s been praised as the face of female empowerment in the literary world.”

Female empowerment. This was exactly what you needed after you let Charlie throw you around like a rag doll, falling docile to his every touch and word. Hm, maybe having tea with this Madame Millicent wouldn’t be so bad.

The problem was that you hadn’t even heard of her. “What should I read to prepare?”

 “That’s up to you,” Narcissa advised. “Choose a title of hers that interests you. She has three titles out now. I have everything in the study.”

You nodded. You had about a month which gave you more than a week to clear each book. 

You had your coffee and pastry with a side of small talk, chatting with your mother about mundane topics like what her book club was reading this week and what she was doing this weekend.

Before you knew it, it was Friday afternoon, the day before the dinner. This day in particular, you found comfort in sitting on the couch in Fred and George’s flat with free use of their owl, writing letters to Charlie. This old rickety couch was now your favourite creative outlet, you supposed.

You hoped Charlie wasn’t fickle in his decisions, so you had to confirm he would be present tomorrow. 

Hi, Charlie We’re still on for tomorrow? 

Of course. 

What are you wearing

Just then, a loud explosion sounded outside. Your jerky response drew out the 'g' in your sentence. You set the quill down on the coffee table, walked to the main door, opened it, and looked to the room adjacent to the flat. 

“Are you alright?” you called out into the abyss.

You saw a thumbs up against a plum of black smoke, so you retreated back to the couch. When you returned, the letter was gone along with the owl. Minutes later, the owl returned with another letter. 

I don’t have to tell you how improper that sounds, (Y/N). I’m saving this letter for a later date. 

You wrote back with a reddening face.

You know I mean for this Saturday. And burn it, please.

The same old thing I always do. Is that okay?

An attire of a jean jacket thrown over a comfortably worn t-shirt would make your classist father curl with rage. It was perfect. 

Of course. Remember, we’re at 8 Estates Lane and dinner starts at 6 p.m. If you end up at 6 Estates Lane, you may encounter Cecile, a widow, who’s just getting over her late husband. She’s still healing, so best to leave her alone. 

Got it. See you at six tomorrow, (Y/N) darling.

In the time it took to read Charlie’s letter, Fred had tiptoed in and peered over your shoulder. 

“Why don’t you just talk to him in person?”

“Because,” you sighed, turning around to poke him in the face with a quill, “You make fun of me when I come over now, and Charlie doesn’t seem to like to play by the books.”

“What do you mean?”

“He shredded my script last Friday.” 

‘And touched me in places he shouldn’t have, and nearly kissed me, and made a fool of me in retrospect,’ you thought. But you wouldn’t tell Fred that was why you were nervous to see Charlie in person: because of whatever spell he’d put on you last time. 

“It wasn’t good anyway,” Fred remarked honestly. 

You furrowed your brows. You poured your heart and mind into that thing! “What do you mean?”

“You were writing lullabies. I almost fell asleep listening to them.”

“This is the least I can do to ensure some consistency,” you argued. “I won’t convince anyone at dinner if I act just as shocked as my parents.”

“Charlie isn’t going to be boxed in by whatever the rules are. He just does what feels right to him at the time, and his intuition is often correct.” Fred threw his arms up in defence after seeing your increasingly perturbed expression. “But don’t ask me, Bill knows him way better.”

“I’m sure, seeing they’re, what, two years apart?”

“They’ll tell each other everything, anything,” Fred added. “Actually, you should ask Bill if you need any blackmail material to keep Charlie in line.”

You were about to agree, but that thought was interrupted by an owl flying into the open window and pecking at you. You stared at the animal quizzically. Unless Charlie was continuing your pretty much finished conversation, then who was this for? You slit the ribbon and unfurled the parchment. Immediately, you noticed the penmanship was different. Neater. Crisper. Like it was written by someone who needed their numbers and figures written crystal clear, say, someone whose profession might be that of a bank official…

(Y/N), Charlie is wearing a black sweater and grey sweatpants. I heard you were curious as per your last letter.  Sincerely,  Bill Weasley

Noticing your mortified expression, Fred was quick to snatch the letter out of your hands. Immediately, his braying laughter filled the room.

“I told you they tell each other everything!” he boasted. 

For the third time this week, you were sure you were parading about a sinking ship.

Tick, tick.

5:58 p.m. on Saturday evening, Lucius crossed one leg over the other, looking expectedly at the circular driveway that wrapped around a marble fountain outside the main entrance. He set his cane aside and adjusted his tie, a black piece in his suit of all black.

5:59 p.m., Narcissa tapped her fingers on her stocking-clad legs. She, too, took to a dress of all black. The only colour on her body was an emerald brooch.

6:00 p.m., a wave of nausea overtook you. You fiddled with a button on your white textured cardigan that you slipped over a black pleated dress.

6:01 p.m., Draco, dressed like his father, let out a scoff at your expense. Pitiful was the sound and wounded was your ego.

“So,” Lucius’s voice cut through the tense air. “Where is Charlie?”

You blanched, at a loss for an explanation. He’d promised you he was going to be here. You had written proof, but it would have no standing in your father’s court of law. 

“Well?” he urged.

“Probably weaving his way through the forest,” you excused with as most conviction as you could muster. “It’s not easy to find such a remote location, especially a mansion on Estates Lane.”

Draco looked at his silver watch on his wrist and let out a sound of competent. “He’s already five minutes late. But I wasn’t expecting anything more from a Weasley, anyway.” Then, he suggested something you didn’t want to hear. “Father, how much longer should we wait before we call off this dinner? You and I have more important things to deal with anyway.”

“I’ll give it—”

Lucius was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of the front door opening. A few seconds later, Dobby came running.

“Who is it, Dobby?” Narcissa asked, standing up. 

“It’s Ms. Cromwell and Mr. Weasley.”

“Ms. Cromwell?” Lucius repeated. 

The four of you, Malfoys and all, shared the same confusion as you scurried to meet your guest—plural, you corrected, guests.

At the entrance of the door, Cecile Cromwell stood with Charlie. She was the heiress you mentioned in your letter. The grieving heiress you warned him not to bother. Her late husband, Chuck Cromwell, held a large fortune in his name before passing last month. Cecile looked polished as always, layers of diamonds and silver looped around her twill dress. Wrapped in her shawl, she looked like the face of elegance and especially juxtaposed to Charlie…

Charlie, who was not wearing what he said he was going to. In fact, he complemented Cecile perfectly. 

He’d slicked his hair back and tied the longer strands up. His blouse boasted some frilly lace that looked like it belonged on Genevieve’s wedding dress rather than his broad chest. The blouse sleeves were long, and the same frilly material poked out at his wrists. He wore a red undercoat that clashed heavily with his purple overcoat which was embroidered with gold stitches. Perhaps the most terrible thing was that his pants cut off past his knees. But his legs weren’t bare, absolutely not. He chose some sort of silk stocking to run down his legs before they were swallowed by his buckled shoes. 

“My apologies for the delay, Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy,” Charlie said. “And to you, my lovely (Y/N).”

You were relieved that Lucius and Narcissa’s gazes were so zoned in on Charlie that they couldn’t even spare you a glance. Because your face was a clear tell that you weren’t expecting this at all. Whatever happened to his promise of a jean jacket and slacks? 

“I’d expected him to dress like this, something reflective of his character,” Draco whispered from beside you. “A circus act.”

“Bugger off,” you warned, giving him a push away.

“It was a rather circuitous route through the dense forest and trees,” Charlie explained, dusting off a twig that was stuck in the loopy lace of his blouse. You wanted to scream. “Luckily, I had Ms. Cromwell to guide me to safety.”

“Cecile is more than fine, Charles,” Cecile assured, smoothing out his suit for him. “As we discussed on the way here.”

“And Charlie is fine, as we discussed,” he added. 

“You didn’t have to walk all the way here, Ms. Cromwell,” Lucius said rather hastily. “It’s rather chilly. Let me have the house elf escort you back.”

“Nonsense,” she deflected, only giving Lucius a moment of her time before fixing a strand of Charlie’s hair that a branch must’ve unstuck. “Walking keeps me youthful in my old age. And meeting Charles, I mean Charlie here, was the sunshine to my gloomy day.”

“I couldn’t have assumed you were over fifty,” Charlie commented.

“Oh, you,” Cecile said with a loud giggle. You’d never seen the heiress act like a fifteen-year old.  “You remind me of my late husband so very much. Same name, just as handsome, and you’re dressed like him when we met as teenagers. Any lady would be lucky to have you.”

Well, at least someone in the room thought he looked charming in those dated robes.

“Men these days don’t possess that same sense of charming style. It’s always the same shades of black and white.”

Lucius and Draco both silently peered down at their suit of all black before Lucius said: “I fear that a storm could break any moment now, you best get going,” he insisted, nudging Dobby to take the heiress’s hand.

“I’m happy to provide direction anytime, Charlie,” Cecile reminded as Dobby guided—very gently pulled—her to the door. She shot him a wink. “You know where I live.”

Charlie stepped forward. “Of course, Cecile. Have a pleasant evening.”

Then, the door shut leaving the five of you in silence. 

“How nice it is to be able to meet your neighbours, Mr. Malfoy, despite the circumstances of my delayed arrival,” Charlie said. “It doesn’t impress well upon me. I hope I can be forgiven for the gaffe.”

It took Lucius longer than usual to register Charlie’s words. It was apparent he was embarrassed that Cecile Cromwell was cognizant that Charlie Weasley was invited to his mansion for dinner. And was dating his daughter.

“Of course,” Narcissa answered in lieu of her frozen husband. “Shall we proceed to the dining room?”

She took Lucius’s hand and gave him a less-than-gentle nudge towards the hall. Lucius walked like the troll that had somehow stormed its way into Hogwarts in your third year. Still unable to speak, he walked along with Narcissa. Draco scampered behind your parents. All you could do was stare at the chaos Charlie caused by merely arriving. 

“Come on then,” Charlie spoke in a low tone next to you. He took you by the hand as well.

“Where did you get these robes?” you asked, referring to his costume.

“It was my great-aunt’s father’s, or something of that sort. Mum wasn’t clear. It really was stowed away in the attic, and I wore it against better advice.”

“Why?”

“I’m a classy man,” Charlie boasted. “What more can I say?”

Dobby rushed back just in time to pour the wine. You were seated next to Charlie, Draco in front of you, and your parents on each side of the table. 

“How is work, Mr. Malfoy?” Charlie asked through a polite sip of red when it settled.

“It’s been keeping me busy,” Lucius responded almost robotically. 

“September is never a quiet time for the Ministry, as both my brothers and father say.”

Lucius was half-focused on conversation. He’d recovered from the Cecile incident, but there was another enemy: he couldn’t keep his eyes off Charlie’s hand that was doting touches on your arm and waist. Truthfully, neither could you. Charlie’s fingers squeezed sporadically and you thanked the wine glass for absorbing your squeal. 

“Of course not, which is why we look forward to the summer. Speaking of, where will you summer?” Lucius asked. You nearly rolled your eyes at the uppity way he worded the question. Arthur had once asked you the same, but in a direct way: ‘Where are you going this summer?’

“We spend a day or two at some of the beach resorts in Romania, or dip into Greece, but there is one spot I’ve been dying to visit,” Charlie said.

“Where is that?” Lucius pressed. 

“Your brother Theodore’s new estate in Paris.”

Lucius mouth paused mid-retort. Narcissa’s red lip was stuck, pressed against the wine glass.

You, on the other hand, had to fight the thunderous laugh rising in your chest. 

“I’m sorry,” Lucius said, shaking his head with a slight laugh of disbelief. “I didn’t catch that. Where is this?”

“(Y/N) was telling me about how tremendous your brother’s Parisian estate was,” Charlie clarified, his words full of air and cheer. “I can imagine how big it is compared to this mansion. And I hear he hosts a wickedly good game of golf, which I’d be happy to partake in.”

“It’s good enough for Paris,” Lucius said. “But—”

“See, you and I are similar in that regard,” Charlie interrupted, raising a finger. Lucius’s frown grew steeper at how Charlie was now lumping them in the same bracket. “Living in the shadows of our perfect older brothers and being constantly compared to them.”

Lucius scoffed. “My parents knew better than to do that.”

‘Yeah, right,’ you thought. Your grandfather, Abraxas, loved to pit his two sons together, like they were animals in a ring. And like an unbreakable tradition, Lucius imposed that on you and Draco, and you knew you weren’t as wonderful as the perfect little Malfoy next to you. 

“I would be pleased to meet your brother one day,” Charlie said. “Maybe next summer. After all, (Y/N) has met most of my extended family and there’s nothing that ties a partnership like family.”

“We’ll see what our plans are for next summer,” Lucius said. “It’s a little premature to be thinking of that already.”

“Of course,” Charlie conceded. “My apologies for being so rash.”

“Will you be returning to Romania?” Lucius asked. “Is it possible for you to have time off during summer with your job, anyway,?” 

“It’s hard to be thinking about the summer already,” Charlie repeated with a smile, taking Lucius’s line and stuffing it back in his own mouth.

“So, what will you and (Y/N) do to see each other?” Narcissa quickly piped in with a wife’s intuition that her husband was going to cause a scene about the manner of Charlie’s response.

“Well, I’ll try my very best to make it back to England when I can for the holidays,” Charlie promised. “But (Y/N) is also intent on visiting Romania for weeks on end if there are time constraints.”

Narcissa was startled. “And she’ll travel herself?” 

“Yes, I will,” you confirmed. Charlie glanced at over you, his expression proud and thoroughly impressed at your improvisation. You gave a small smile back. 

“All that travelling does take a toll on the body, especially that of a young woman,” Narcissa warned. You redirected your attention to your wine, evading her glance over. 

‘Oh, mother, thank you for always being so cognizant of the state of my reproductive organs,’ you thought.

Narcissa dug further into Charlie. “Have you considered settling down in one place?”

“Not in the next couple of years,” Charlie said. He was so convincing that you could see your future reflected in the polished glass in front of you, full of Romanian castles and mountains. “Nothing like travelling when we’re young, right, (Y/N)?”

You nodded. “Absolutely. We should take all the time we need.”

“Have you thought about marriage? Children? Wouldn’t it better for a family to remain in one place, too?” Narcissa asked, oblivious to Lucius’s eye that had just twitched. The thought of you and Charlie producing off-spring might’ve been revolting for him to forget about dinner altogether. 

Charlie looked solemn. “That might not be in the picture.”

You quickly looked over. This was far from what you would’ve wanted him to say, but Charlie squeezed your knee to silence you. You almost kicked up at the table. 

“It’s a shared decision, is it not?” Narcissa asked.

“Yes, of course,” you added breathlessly. Best to just play along with Charlie. “And I think, I think… the same.”

“We’ll re-evaluate in ten years,” Charlie assured.

“Ten—!” Lucius finally spoke for his wife, before cutting himself off.  “And you’ll be how old then, Charles?”

“Thirty-nine,” Charlie responded. Rubbing salt on the wound, he reminded your parents: “And (Y/N) will be thirty-three.”

Now it was Narcissa’s turn to look as white as a spirit. She had you when she was twenty-four, and Draco at twenty-six. Comparatively, thirty-three was geriatric. 

You bit down to quell the laugh that was trying to escape your lips. Charlie knew how to make your parents tick and hit each box perfectly, like he was scoring points on the Quidditch field in his prime years. In your little ‘lullaby’, you and Charlie were having ten kids, but having none was clearly the better option. You did prefer your mother over your father and hated to make her upset, but the constant reminder on you and never Draco to be married, to bear children, to be a mother yourself, was a lot. 

“Draco will obviously carry on the family name should my decision remain unchanged.” You nudged Draco with your foot. Your tone was devilish; it was time for Draco to bear the burden of everything. “Won’t you?”

Draco growled back. You both loved offloading familial duties onto each other.

“What is your reason, Charles, if you don’t mind me asking?” Narcissa asked. 

“Seeing how much my parents had to sacrifice and give up for themselves,” Charlie responded, a tinge of sadness coating his voice. 

Again, if Charlie Weasley needed a second career, acting wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility. 

“Well, when you make the decision to have more children than you can afford, that seems like an unavoidable issue,” Lucius said hotly. 

“They struggled, but I wouldn’t trade any of my siblings for anything in the world.”

The air of the room was clouded with confusion. Lucius was set out to hate Charlie, but Charlie was acting the part of a perfect, coiffed gentleman (save for the remarks about Uncle Theo’s bigger estate and inviting himself over). Narcissa, though milder than Lucius, would’ve preferred a different man for you than Charlie Weasley, but she was upset you weren’t set out to have her grandchild(ren) anytime soon. Draco, always in the mood for a snarky comment, didn’t know whether to laugh or continue to live through the horror of a conversation your parents were actually invested in. 

“Very well,” Lucius said, leaning back. “It’s a shame Kingsley’s new policies have made it harder for the working class to have children.”

You groaned internally. Even Draco, who was always on his father’s side, rolled his eyes at Lucius’s favourite topic: blaming every bad thing in the world on the current Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. It was easier for him to have sway over his predecessor, Cornelius Fudge. Well, before Fudge was forced to resign over some controversies in his office. 

“Undoubtedly,” Charlie backed him up with a nod. Lucius looked at him with surprise; he hadn’t expected him to agree. But you didn’t think Charlie was going to, based on the crafty smirk on his face. “It’ll take decades to undo the damage Fudge put forth in his years in office, draining funding from things like childcare and parental leave and putting that money in the pockets of his friends instead.”

There it was. 

Shadows appeared on Lucius’s countenance. “Fudge did no such thing.”

Draco slammed his face into his hands. 

Lucius continued. “He’s only ever introduced good policies, like the potential reintroduction of dragon domestication.” 

“Having spent a decade near them, I can say they’re absolutely not suitable for domestication,” Charlie pointed out. 

“The earliest of Malfoys have been domesticators of dragons,” Lucius stated. “And they did very well, before the Ministers of Magic intervened.”

It was a touchy topic for your father indeed. Centuries ago, Malfoys did the unfathomable: they domesticated dragons and the only way to do that was to really hurt the beasts. And hunted them for sport. The same terrible creatures that had power to burn down cities, the same creatures that people staked their lives to tame. But ethics and politics shook down on the practice, and dragon domestication reflected once again in a bad light. 

Or that was what you’d read. Lucius preferred to say that those in power were gleeful to finally shake down on Malfoys. Maybe it was just transgenerational shame. You knew Malfoys hated being told what to do. 

“For good reason. The fatality rate of those trying to domesticate dragons was beyond any acceptable threshold, and vice versa.” Charlie’s voice was now lower, more serious than you’d ever heard him. His lovely bass notes reverberated in your ear and sent a chill down your spine.

“So, what exactly is the point of your job?” Lucius asked hotly. “Don’t you, on a technicality, domesticate them?”

“I study and work with them, Mr. Malfoy,” Charlie corrected. In a battle for authority, Charlie was winning. “You can call it taming, if you’d like, so they’re less destructive to the environment and wizardkind. I can make them pliable for transport as well.”

Your eyes darted back and forth between Lucius and Charlie. 

Behind Charlie’s cool and collected demeanour, you had to wonder if he was affected by your father’s words. You knew he cared deeply about dragons, never even taking more than a week off them in the past decade. He wouldn’t ever fathom hurting them for personal gain.

“Let’s have some dinner, shall we?” Narcissa said quickly. No one wanted to see Lucius riled up over politics.

The rest of dinner proceeded without a hitch, in your eyes at least. In between courses, Charlie pulled you close and whispered in your ears. You were sure this was for show because you didn’t understand anything he was saying, or maybe it was because you were too busy gazing into his deep blue eyes and studying every freckle on his cheek.

When the clock struck nine, and the last drop of coffee was had, Charlie excused himself to leave.

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy for such a delightful evening,” Charlie remarked at the door. “And for such an insightful discussion on dragon domestication, Mr. Malfoy.”

Charlie was tempting war.

“I would be happy to discuss this topic anytime, Charles,” Lucius responded icily. 

Charlie hummed in agreement. “Of course.” Then, he turned to you. 

In a flash, all you could see was a mouthy smirk that had definitely sunk ships in past lifetimes. 

His right arm reached out to take you by the waist to spin you around. You expected him to only bid you goodnight but you were way off the mark. His lips remained silent. His left hand did all the talking by climbing to the back of your neck to position you how he wanted. He tilted your head back and inched closer and then—

His lips landed on yours. 

You might’ve been flustered or pushed him away under normal circumstances, but this was no normal circumstance. Unsure of what to do, you lay immobile in his arms, like that rag doll you promised you weren’t going to be. Except you were, again. He was playing you like a marionette puppet and his hands were the strings. His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into the fabric of the dress until you could feel each one. His lips stuck on yours like honey, like a fruit lolly from Honeydukes on a hot summer day. His eyelashes brushed against your eyelids as he tilted your head down further to deepen the kiss.

Patches of muscled torso pressed against the front of your body. Warmth seeped from his hand to the back of your neck as his palm caressed your skin while his fingers tangled themselves in your hair.

He deepened the kiss once more before pulling away. 

You stumbled upwards as he withdrew himself. Your fingers ghosted over your flushed lips in disbelief, but again, no one saw. In this moment, no one cared about you. 

When the stars faded and vision came to be, the first thing you saw were the agape mouths of your parents. But they weren’t going to chastise Charlie over the improper way he said goodbye; there were no words to be had.

“Have yourself a wonderful evening,” Charlie said in a manner so unaffected that you didn’t understand. He had just given you the most electric kiss you’ve ever had, and in front of your parents and brother. “And many thanks again for having me.”

NEXT CHAPTER>>

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

[oth-caps]

[wingedhallows]

i got my eye on you - four; marauders

pairing: marauders (sirius black x reader) | 2k words plot: albus reaches out to you to keep the marauders save, to not have them die, so you join them in their seventh year. authors note: i hope you're well, love u! If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!

navigation | part one ; part two ; part three ; part four ; part five

You had left Sirius’ room when the others returned from hogsmeade. With kisses and little miss you’s, you left him alone. The walk to your room seemed longer than usual. You stopped outside the corridor, the moonlit night had a calming effect.

You pushed a stick between your lips and lit it with a tap from your finger. You let your gaze wander, though nothing much could be seen in the dark.

Something caught your attention or rather someone. Four figures argued with each other. You couldn’t make out three of them, they were hidden by the dark but the fourth one, you were sure, was Peter.

Your eyebrows furrowed, unsure what to think of it. You didn’t know Peter as well as the others, not like Sirius. He probably had friends apart from the marauders. You made a mental note to keep an eye on Peter, for his own sake.

Before you were able to accompany Sirius and his friends to breakfast, Albus had waved for you. Sirius didn’t have a chance to argue before you aparated away.

“What’s the matter, Headmaster?” The old wizard swatted his arm, signaling for you to take a seat. You didn’t argue and sat yourself down, the lighter which you stole from Sirius’ bedside table between your fingers.

“You have a little sister, am I correct?” You sighed and nodded your head.

“Millicent Fox, I believe.” You were well aware that your parents had another daughter, although you’ve met her maybe once or twice.

“She’s small, we’re almost twenty years apart.” You answered.

Albus nodded and plopped a lemon drop in his mouth. “Fourteen years to be accurate.” You diverted your gaze and dropped a small “whatever” in the process.

“She’s to enroll for her first year here in Hogwarts.” You looked at him, eyebrows furrowed. “How generous of our parents.” He didn’t answer and gave you a small smile.

“Maybe you could look out for her and the first years.” A small smirk found itself on your lips. “Yet another task, Albus?” 

“Don’t think of it as a task, I heard she only speaks in the highest tones of you.” You shook your head, face in a scowl.

“She’s a kid.” He nodded.

“Exactly, so help her and the others stay kids, we all know what’s happening nowadays.” You didn’t answer the old wizard.

“Was that everything you wanted to talk to me about?” He shook his head.

“Not exactly.” You waited for him to continue. “I wanted to forward my praises.” He paused.

“For-”For exceptional execution of protection. The incident at the last Quidditch Match was a horrible incident which you defused in a short time. For a brief moment your relationship to Sirius Black stated a problem but seeing how you execute your work erased that worry.”

You were dumbfounded.

“My relationship?” He gave you a smile.

“I know everything, Miss Fox.” You cringed at your last name.

“One issue I do have, I’m afraid.” You once again didn’t interrupt him and waited for him to continue.

“I must plead to you that punishment of students in any form is to be executed by a teacher of this school, vigilantism is something I don’t want to see in these walls again, Miss Fox.” You nodded and excused yourself.

With a cigarette between your lips you wandered the school grounds, deep in thought.

You hadn’t seen Millie since she was a toddler, not that you knew her very well. Somehow you felt bad, bad for the little girl who had to grow up in the same awful household you had to. You’d give her a chance, you thought.

Give yourself a chance, maybe.

“Are you my sister?” A girl with big brown eyes started up to you, her hand grasped your coat with an iron grip. You looked around, eyes wide. “Miss Y/N?” A house elf you knew too well stood in front of you. “Esmy.” You spoke, your voice barely a whisper.

You crouched down, your arms already around the elf’s shoulders. “Where has Miss Y/N been? Esmy was greatly worried.” She tried. Esmy has been more of a mother than your own has ever been. 

She cared for you when you were sick, wiped your tears and played with you when neither of your parents paid you any mind.

“Miss Y/N is Miss Millicent’s sister.” Esmy spoke, pulling the little girl forward.

Your sister threw you a big smile and threw her tiny arms around your shoulders.

“I knew, you’re my prettiest best sister ever.”

She said, her pigtails hitting your face in the process.

“Esmy showed me photos and told super stories.” You gave her a small smile and grasped her cheek.

“Is that so?” She nodded and played with your hair while you spoke to Esmy. “How is she at home?” Esmy shook her head. 

“Not as strict but not kind either.” She said and you sighed.

"Millicent? Where are you child? Millicent?!”

Your eyes widened. “I gotta go, Millie.” She frowned and sniffled as she stared at you. “

No, I don’t want you to go.” “Take care of her, Esmy.” Esmy nodded and grabbed Millicent.

“I love you, Millie.”

You spoke before you aparated away, desperate to get away before your parents arrived.

“Love, here you are.” Sirius pulled you out of your thoughts, his bag slung over his shoulder.

With one hand he took your cigarette from you and with the other he pulled you closer, his hand buried in your neck. He pressed a hot kiss on your lips and smiled at you.

He took a drag and looked at you.

“What’s the matter?” You sighed and leaned over the railing. “Dumbledore knows of us.” He chuckled and threw an arm over your shoulders, another kiss pressed to your cheek.

“Does he have an issue with that?” Your lips broke into a small smile. “Not really, since I saved your ass a while ago.” He chuckled and took another drag.

He looked at you once more before intertwining his fingers with yours. “That’s not everything, is it?” You shook your head, a sigh left your lips.

“My little sister will come to Hogwarts soon.” His eyebrows furrowed.

“Sister? I thought you were an only child.” You shook your head.

“She’s fourteen years younger than me, she’s barely a child. I don’t even know her.” You grasped his hand to take a drag yourself.

“Albus told you that, why?”

Your hand found his brown locks. “He wants me to look out for her and the other first years, with everything that’s going on.” He sighed but rummaged in his pockets for his pack. With a flick of his lighter, the next cigarette was lit.

“Then we’ll look out for them together.” You gave him a smile and pressed a kiss on his cheek.

“Let’s grab a bite, huh?” You nodded and took the cigarette from his lips.

Sirius poured some pumpkin juice in your cup and went to grab your plate but you stopped him.

“I’m not hungry.” You protested, your head still swinging with all the thoughts and worry.

“You’ve got to eat something, Y/N.” James had to laugh as he grabbed his cup.

“What’re you laughing at, Potter?” Sirius glared at him. “Oh nothing, Black. Just, hilarious to see you acting all love sick.” Sirius straightened up quickly and threw a biscuit at him.

“I’m not.” James and Remus chuckled.

“Do you want some Pumpkin juice, my love.” James reenacted the previous event.

“Yes please, Sirius.” Remus joined in. “I do not at all sound like that.” You protested.

“Whatever you two, we’re hanging out in the yard later, you comin’ too?” James asked, his question directed at the both of you.

Sirius looked at you, his answer totally laid with you.

“Sure-” Your answer was interrupted by a sudden poof as your house elf, Suki appeared.

“Miss Y/N.” Marlene was so badly startled that she dropped her pumpkin pasty with a yelp.

“Suki, what’s the matter?” You watched the elf trying to not step on any plates or knock something over. 

“This letter arrived for Miss arrived just now. Suki hurried to deliver it.” You took the letter from her tiny hands and thanked her before she disappeared again.

To: Y/N Fox.

From: Millicent Fox.

“What is it?” 

You didn’t answer as you opened up the envelope. The paper was slightly crumbled, maybe she hesitated to send it.

Dear Y/N,

I don’t know if you remember me but I am your little sister, Millicent. I’m about to enroll for my first year at Hogwarts, School of Magic. Your house elf, Suki, has visited me. She let me know that you would be there too, though she didn’t tell me what for. I can’t imagine you as a teacher.

Don’t punish your house elf for talking to me, mother punishes Esmy for every little mistake. I hope you’re nothing like her, hopefully.

I’m excited to meet you, I hope you’re as kind as I imagine you to be.

With kind regards,

your little sister, Millie.

You closed the letter and pushed it back into its envelope.

“Who wrote you?” Sirius asked, pouring some milk into your cup of coffee.

“My sister.” He nodded and stirred the liquid some more. “Here you go.” He paused and placed a biscuit on your saucer. “Just this.” He spoke, puppy eyes forcing you to comply. After you took a bite of the biscuit Sirius had given you, Lily turned to you.

“You have a sister?” You nodded and took a sip from your coffee.

“A very small one, yes.” Sirius placed his hand on your back and spoke again. “What she say?” You grasped his hand and intertwined your fingers.

“She’s very excited to meet me.” Sirius nodded, taking a bite of his food. “That’s good, right?” You nodded, a small smile on your lips.

“I hope.” 

“So, are you two official yet?” Marlene asked, the table stilled. She furrowed her eyebrows.

“Oh please, you two hold hands, smile at each other all the time. I’m not even going to begin to imagine what you lot did while we were at Hogsmeade the other day.” 

James stared at his friend and then at you.

“You two, I thought you were joking?” Lily had to chuckle.

“You really are blind, Potter.” You cleared your throat, a small smile on your lips.

“He hasn’t asked me yet, so no, not official.” Sirius let go of your hand, eyes wide.

“We kissed!” He threw in. “Boys.” Marlene sighed while shaking her head.

“Oh and how we kissed, my dear Sirius.” You paused.

“But until you ask me to be your girlfriend, I’m not.” He sighed and took another bite.

“Do you-”Not like this, Sirius.” Marlene threw in.

“Not over the dinner table, you neanderthal.”

“But how?” She smirked at Sirius.

“That’s for you to figure out, love.” You smiled before you lit yourself a cigarette.

Sirius stayed quiet as his thumb caressed the back of your hand, his head visibly smoking.

“Idiot.” Marlene commented.

“I really don’t know what you see in him, honestly.” You blew some smoke. “He’s not just a pretty face, Marlene.” She huffed a chuckle as she took a sip of her drink.

“Whatever you say.” You threw her a smile and felt Sirius relax. The letter in your pocket weighed a ton, your head was full of thoughts.

You didn’t know if you were prepared for all that but there was something you were absolutely sure about.

These kids would stand by your side and Sirius would be closest.

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